My daughter Lively is four, almost five. This morning she was so excited to wear her little heart-shaped glasses—and as she put them on, they snapped right down the middle. To her, in that moment, the whole world caved in. What she can’t see from her vantage point is that her dad knows exactly where to find another pair for two dollars. She’s blinded, in the sweetest way, by the problem right in front of her.
That’s most of us in a storm. Two nights after Jesus fed five thousand people, His disciples got in a boat to cross the Sea of Galilee, and the wind came up hard. They’d seen Jesus do the impossible less than 48 hours earlier—and still, when He came walking toward them on the water, they were terrified. This story is about the everyday miracle of learning to recognize the One who’s already coming to meet you.
Losing sight of Jesus is human. His hope is that you’ll be quick to find Him again.
You’re Not Alone in the Struggle
“When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them.” (John 6:16–17, ESV)
Notice when the trouble hits: the disciples are doing exactly what Jesus asked. They’re mid-obedience, and the darkness closes in anyway. Ever felt that? Like the moment you try to do the right thing, something presses back against you. In those moments feelings lie to us—we feel unseen, unheard, alone. But feelings aren’t the same as truth, and they have to be kept in that order.
Scripture gives us solid handles to grab. In Exodus, when God’s people cried out, the text piles up verbs: God heard them, God remembered His promise, God knew their pain. A chapter later He says of Himself, “I have surely seen… I have heard… I know their suffering, and I have come to deliver.” That’s who God is when His people are hurting. You are not alone. He hears you, He sees you, and He knows what you’re carrying.
Don’t Let the Problem Blind You
“The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were frightened.” (John 6:18–19, ESV)
They should have been relieved—but they were scared, because they were staring at the wrong thing. All they could see were the waves. Not the shoreline that meant safety, not the Savior who could settle the whole thing with a word. And here’s the quiet trap: whatever you give your attention to grows. Stew on a crisis long enough and it swells far bigger than it actually is.
The remedy isn’t pretending the storm away. It’s deliberately turning even your most feeble focus back onto who Jesus is—because the moment you do, you remember He’s bigger than the thing in front of you. Like my Lively and her broken glasses, we so often can’t see past the problem to the Father who already holds the solution.
You Can’t Save Yourself
“Then they were glad to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going.” (John 6:21, ESV)
The disciples rowed three or four miles and got almost nowhere. Their best effort couldn’t rescue them from their worst moment. Our culture loves to tell you the strength to overcome everything is somewhere inside you—but that’s not true, and deep down you know it. There are storms that no amount of self-help or willpower will carry you through. Don’t call on the universe. Don’t call on your own energy. The universe can’t deliver you; only a good God can.
That’s not bad news—it’s the best news. There’s a Savior whose whole nature is to reconcile, to bring things back into alignment with how He designed them. “On earth as it is in heaven” is the prayer: in your body, in your family, in your work, as it is in heaven. So when the water’s rising, don’t flail and make it worse. Surrender instead of fighting, and call on the One who is mighty to save.
The Bigger Story
The deepest thing the disciples missed was simply who was walking toward them. When Jesus says “It is I,” the Greek carries the weight of “I AM”—the holiest name of God, the name Moses heard at the burning bush. That single declaration is what turned their fear into peace. His word still does that. Not dessert, not a favorite podcast, not a self-help book—those things are fine, but they don’t save and they don’t bring the peace He promises. His word calms the storm because of who’s speaking it.
And here’s the promise to carry out the door: obedience doesn’t prevent storms, but His presence is guaranteed. Jesus didn’t grab the rudder and take over—He climbed into the mess with them and got them exactly where they were headed. He knows where you are no matter how far you’ve drifted, His word has the power to settle your soul, and if He’s called you somewhere, He will deliver you there. Smooth sailing was never the promise. His presence always was.
Share This With Someone This Week
Someone you love is rowing hard against the wind right now—exhausted, scared, convinced they’re alone in it. This is the reminder they need: God sees them, His word brings real peace, and they don’t have to save themselves. Send it to the friend who’s been white-knuckling a storm. Pointing someone back to the One already walking toward them is a genuine act of love.
What Are You Going to Do About It?
Read John 6:16–21 slowly, and then sit honestly with one question: where are you rowing your hardest, trying to get above the waterline on your own? Name that storm out loud to God today—not the polished version, the real one. Then, instead of reaching first for your usual comfort, open His word and let “It is I; do not be afraid” be the thing you hold onto this week. Take the small step of calling on Him quickly, before you try to fix it yourself.