Luke 5:1-11

Seaside miracles

Jesus does much of his ministry at, around, or in the Sea of Galilee. He teaches from the back of a boat, he overfills nets with fishes, he even walks on the water. He demonstrates his strengths for all to see and believe. But only a fraction of folks join him. It must have been astounding, yet only a few respond to such powerful deeds.

I can testify as to how challenging it can be to sustain a faith once proclaimed. Across a lifetime. Thickenings and thinnings. My dear mother once said all relationships go back and forth on a continuum. Even our relationship with God.

As to seaside miracles, I have one of my own.

In the early 1950s, my family lived in Southern California. We were near enough to the Pacific Ocean to go there on the spur of the moment.

My father’s favorite last-minute jaunt was to Newport Beach, where massive stones formed a breakwater to calm the sea for incoming vessels.

When I say massive stones, these are house-sized rocks that look like a failed Jenga effort, dumped there to form an irregular string.

Daddy liked to walk to the sea across them. My mother and brother loved hopping from one big rock to another, despite the enormous chasms that sometimes had to be breached.

On one particular trip, the stones seemed larger than ever and the gaps between them wider and deeper.

As the three of them bounced on ahead, I froze in place at the first major chasm.

It was awhile before they noticed, and were horrified to realize I was not with them.

Daddy ran back and reached down to me, his arm outstretched, his hand open.

I squirmed. I cried. I  looked down through the big space to see water roiling below, then up to see Daddy’s arm still outstretched.

That seaside “rescue” comes to mind today. It’s a precious memory of my father—and, more currently, a beautiful metaphor of how near God is at every moment—and how willing to help.

Mary Patricia Trainor