CHAPTER 20
Matthew 14:22–36
LISTEN to the Story
22Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. 23After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone, 24and the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.
25Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. 26When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.
27But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
28“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
29“Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”
31Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”
32And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. 33Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
34When they had crossed over, they landed at Gennesaret. 35And when the men of that place recognized Jesus, they sent word to all the surrounding country. People brought all their sick to him 36and begged him to let the sick just touch the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed.
Listening to the Text in the Story: Exodus 14:24–31; Job 9:4–12; 26:11–12; 38:16; Psalms 65:7; 69:1–3, 13–18; 77:13–20; 89:8–9; 107:23–32; Wisdom of Solomon 14:2–4; Sirach 24:5–6.
Most miracles make sense. When Jesus heals a paralytic or feeds hundreds of people, we nod our head in approval because we expect nothing less from this man of mercy. “That’s just like Jesus,” we say to ourselves, knowing that he came to help the helpless. But when Jesus walks on water to get to a boat where his disciples are having difficulty crossing the Sea of Galilee due to stiff winds, well, we can’t help but scratch our heads and wonder, “Why?” There seems to be no good reason for Jesus to perform this miracle. It’s not like the disciples were in trouble, as in the previous boat story (Matt 8:23–27). At that time, they feared for their lives because the storm was so bad the boat was taking in water. So, when they woke up Jesus and cried to him, “Lord, save us!” we can easily empathize with their plight. Yet that’s not what happened here. The disciples were not about to die; their lives weren’t in danger. Sure, they were having a hard time sailing their boat against contrary winds in the middle of the night. And boating in the dark of night could be a little intimidating. But, they weren’t afraid—that is, until Jesus shows up walking on the water (14:26). Then they were scared out of their minds, convinced he was a ghost (phantasma), at which point Jesus had to calm them down with reassuring words (v. 27). That’s quite a reversal of what we usually read in Matthew’s Gospel.
Typically, things get better when Jesus shows up. But not this time. Instead, Jesus’s weird miracle tempts Peter to get out of the boat—where he is safe and sound—to “test the waters” literally. Then the fool nearly drowns trying to walk on water too. Of course, the winds die down once Jesus is in the boat with the Twelve, and they finally make it to their destination (vv. 32–34). So, is that the purpose of the story, to show how Jesus can stop contrary winds to ensure smooth sailing? But Jesus didn’t have to walk on water to stop the storm. He could have calmed the winds and waves like he did before (8:26). But he didn’t do that this time. Instead, it looks like he was trying to set up something else. Notice how he had to convince his disciples to get in a boat without him (“Jesus made the disciples get into the boat,” 14:22, emphasis added) to cross the sea despite contrary winds. He knew his disciples would have a hard time. So, was this a bit of theatrical staging? Did Jesus set up the scenario so that he could walk on water to them?1 If there was ever a time when it seems like Jesus was trying to show off, this is it. (“Hey, look at me! I can walk on water.”) It certainly had the desired effect: “Then those who were in the boat worshiped him saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God’ ” (v. 33). After Jesus calmed the wind the first time, the disciples wondered, “What kind of man is this?” (8:27). Once he walked on water, they had no doubts about his divine nature: this is the first time they confess that Jesus is the Son of God (14:33).
Is that why Jesus walked on water, to finally convince his disciples of his unique identity since God is the only one who can walk on water (Job 9:8; 38:16)?2 Such an idea certainly shows up in casual conversation today. Talking about a person who is extraordinarily gifted, someone will say sarcastically, “Yeah. But can they walk on water?” Doesn’t that tell us something? Of all the miracles Jesus performed, that’s the one we speak of dismissively. We don’t say, “But can he feed five thousand people?” or “But can he heal the sick?” It’s almost as if, revealed by the common vernacular of everyday people, we know this miracle is rather fanciful, even Superman-like. Come to think of it, if Jesus could walk on water, why didn’t he fly around like Superman? Since he needed to get somewhere fast when his disciples were having trouble, why didn’t Jesus fly to the boat? I realize it sounds irreverent to compare Jesus to Superman (and yet, we do that all the time, treating Jesus as if he were our own, personal superman).3 But I’m pressing hard to understand why Jesus thought it was necessary to walk on water in the middle of the night when his disciples weren’t in danger. There are other ways for Jesus to convince the disciples of his divine identity (resurrection!). It just seems a little embarrassing for him to do it like this.4 Honestly, I would like the story better if the disciples were drowning so that Jesus could save them.5 But they weren’t going to die; Jesus knew that. Instead, this seems to be a story about tough sailing—that is, until Peter got out of the boat. Then Jesus saves.
EXPLAIN the Story
Matthew has made it clear that as long as the disciples had Jesus with them, everything would be all right. Climb a mountain with him, and he will give rock-solid words to build your life upon. Get in a boat with him, and he will calm the storm when the torrid waves of life’s troubles threaten to drown you. When the righteous accuse you of breaking their sacred rules, he will defend you. When everyone else is puzzling over his teaching, he will explain it to you. Do what he says, and he’ll treat you like family. Follow him into the desert, and you’ll never go hungry. It’s no wonder, then, that Jesus had to convince his disciples to get in the boat without him (Matt 14:22). The only time he had sent them away, he gave them lengthy instructions about how they would face difficulty but that he would eventually come to them and reward them for their faithfulness (10:1–39). This time, he simply told them to “go ahead of him to the other side” of the sea (14:22). Then, after sending the satisfied crowd away from him, Jesus retreated to a mountain to pray (v. 23). Obviously, Jesus wanted to be alone, perhaps to have time finally to grieve over John’s death or perhaps to contemplate his own fate. Whatever the reason, Jesus had spent most of the night in prayer when he decided to go looking for his disciples, who had sailed the boat “a considerable distance from land” (vv. 23–25). Both Jesus and the disciples had endured another long day, followed this time by a sleepless night. To say they were tired, perhaps even a little foggy headed due to exhaustion, may help to explain the strange sequence of events that we take for granted because we know the story. No wonder the disciples were scared out of their minds, thinking Jesus was a ghost. We all see strange things at night, especially when we aren’t able to sleep. Is that why Peter acted like such a knucklehead? We could certainly attribute his impulsive behavior to a lack of sleep. Speaking of sleep, is that why Jesus went walking on the water to begin with, because he was so tired he wanted to get to the other side of the lake as soon as possible? Sleep deprivation creates all kinds of confusion and can lead to strange behavior. Yet, once this crazy night is over, with the dawning of the morn, everything will become a little clearer in the light of day: “Truly you are the Son of God” (v. 33).
Jesus Is Immanuel
Matthew begins his Gospel with the claim that Jesus is “God with us” (1:23). At the end of the Gospel story, as the resurrected Messiah sends his followers away to make disciples throughout the whole world, the last thing Jesus says—the very last line of Matthew’s Gospel—is, “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (28:20). Even in his absence, Jesus will be present with his disciples. From the beginning to the end, we as readers get to see the story unfold, not only how Jesus became “Immanuel” to his disciples, but also how they came to learn the lesson that even in his absence, Jesus is present with them always, no matter what. And so, smack dab in the middle of his Gospel, Matthew tells this story when Jesus seems to prepare his disciples for this mysterious paradox. In fact, both boat stories appear to function that way, as training exercises in their discipleship development. The first time, Jesus was present but “absent,” asleep while the boat takes in water during a life-threatening storm (8:23–27). In this boat story, Jesus was absent but “present,” coming to them on the water during a sleepless night of sailing against contrary winds. After the first boat episode, the Twelve puzzle over Jesus’s identity: “What kind of man is this?” (8:27). At the end of this story, they worship him as divine (14:33). Yet, when they first saw him, they thought Jesus was a ghost (v. 26). That’s quite a haphazard leap, going from “who is this man?” to “he’s a ghost” and ultimately to “truly you are the Son of God.” In fact, their confused confessions are very telling: as long as Jesus was in the boat with them, the disciples could marvel over the Lord as “Immanuel.” But alone, in the middle of a sleepless night, when life is hard, his ghostly presence did more to scare than comfort them. But who could blame them? It’s not every day you see a man walk on water.
Let’s put ourselves in the boat with the Twelve. It is about eight o’clock in the evening. We’ve been trying to do what Jesus told us to do: take the boat across the sea. But contrary winds have made obeying this simple command a nightmare. We try to sail our boat, using the force of the wind to push our vessel along, tacking in a zigzag pattern across the lake. Now it is midnight. Not making very good progress, we drop sail and decide to bring out the oars, fighting hard against the waves. Everyone’s tired and frustrated. Those not paddling snack on the leftovers we brought along from the miraculous feeding. Now it is two o’clock in the morning. Rowing in shifts, we keep steering the vessel into the wind, knowing that will be our only compass in the pitch-black darkness. We can’t see the shoreline—neither where we came from nor where we are headed—so we have no idea how far we have to go. Now it is five o’clock in the morning. Howling winds, arms growing heavy with fatigue, frustrated crew—a one-to-two-hour trip is taking all night. Then, just as the early glimmers of the dawn make it quite evident to everyone that we’re in the middle of the lake, someone cries out, “It’s a ghost!” Turning to see the phantom, some drop their oars paralyzed with fear; others start paddling like crazy. Malevolent powers are known to traverse the waters, seeking foolish sailors for their eternal keep.6 Some of us are resigned to the fact that we’re going to die. Maybe others wonder, “Where is Jesus?” Then we hear the ghost say in a familiar voice, “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid” (v. 27). Are we relieved? Are we confused? Could this be a trick? Is that really Jesus? Who can tell? All we see is a shadowy figure walking on the water. He looks like a ghost, but he sounds like Jesus. What do we do now? Well, like any reasonable person who’s had enough sleep to think clearly, we wait until Jesus gets to the boat. Then we’ll know for certain it’s him. But Peter can’t wait. “Lord, if it’s you . . . tell me to come to you on the water” (v. 28). And the phantom says, “Come.” Then Peter did the most bizarre, crazy thing he’s ever done: he gets out of the boat and walks on the rough waves to see if what we heard is true (v. 29).
We don’t know how far Peter walked on water (but I have an idea; see below). Was it only a few steps? Did he make it halfway? Or was he so close to Jesus that from the vantage point of those in the boat, because it was still dark, they looked like two ghosts walking on the water? However far he went, when Peter began to sink it would be easy for those in the boat to think, “The wind spirit got him. It was a trick after all. The voice sounded like Jesus, but everyone knows the only thing that could walk on water is a ghost—something lighter than air. Poor guy, he’s crying out for the Lord to save him. How sad is that. We’re in the middle of the lake, and Jesus is back there on land where we came from.” But then, the unimaginable happens. The ghost saves Peter from drowning. “Wait a minute,” they must have thought, “evil powers don’t do that!” Then the ghost and Peter start walking toward their boat. At what point did the boated disciples realize it was Jesus? When he saved Peter? Was it the way he walked, his familiar gait? Or, did they finally recognize him when he got close enough to see his face? Whenever it was, we can only imagine the waves of relief that washed over the disciples once Peter and Jesus were safe and sound in the boat with them. It’s one thing to hear him say, “Take courage. It is I. Don’t be afraid.” It’s quite something else to see him do what only he can do. Jesus saves because he is Immanuel.
Peter Is a Rock
The purpose of Peter’s little stroll on the water is difficult to figure out (it’s missing from Mark’s version; see Mark 6:45–52). Was it a good or a bad thing that Peter tried to walk on water? Is Peter the model believer, a person who proved he could walk on water while the rest of his shipmates stayed hunkered down in the boat where it was safe and dry? Or should Peter’s escapade serve as a cautionary tale, warning doubters what happens to them when they take their eyes off Jesus and focus on the waves of despair that threaten to overwhelm them? Moreover, what about Jesus’s role in the story? Since it wasn’t Jesus’s idea for Peter to walk on the water to begin with, did he grant the absurd request to teach Peter a lesson, that Jesus’s word of encouragement (“Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid”) should have been enough? Remember, when they saw Jesus, they cried out in fear, “It’s a ghost.” Jesus tried to calm them down by reassuring them of his presence, knowing they would believe his word. Sheep are supposed to recognize the voice of their shepherd, but that wasn’t enough for Peter. He had to see if what he heard was true. So, the presumptuous disciple issued a challenge: “If it’s really you, I should be able to walk on water too.” But then Peter eventually lived up to his name, sank like a rock, and Jesus had to bail him out of danger. That’s why the Lord chastised Peter for his “littlefaith” (oligopiste), doubting that it really was Jesus. The moral of the story: Peter should have taken Jesus at his word.
But would Jesus really do that, set up Peter for failure? Throughout Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus has been teaching his disciples how to follow him. Isn’t that what we have here, Peter’s attempt to follow Jesus?7 Let’s not forget how it happened. Peter didn’t impetuously hop out of the boat and head for Jesus. Rather, he knew the only way he could come to Jesus was if his Lord commanded him to come (Matt 14:28). That’s the only reason Peter would get out of the boat; he believed the word of the Lord. Jesus said, “Come,” and Peter walked on water—for a while. Sure, Peter nearly drowned when he took his eyes off Jesus. The fierce wind created doubt in his mind. But at least he got out of the boat and tried to walk to Jesus in faith. Furthermore, even when he was about to drown, he knew Jesus was his salvation. In fact, Peter’s desperate plea, “Lord, save me!” (v. 29) is the model prayer for all of us who face uncertain times and cry out to Jesus, knowing he’s our only hope. How many times have we felt the strong arm of the Lord reaching down to lift us up when we nearly drowned from sorrow or sin? Who doesn’t need a helping hand from Jesus? Remember the revivalist hymn so many of us used to sing?
I was sinking deep in sin, far from the peaceful shore,
Very deeply stained within, sinking to rise no more;
But the Master of the sea heard my despairing cry,
From the waters lifted me, now safe am I.
Love lifted me! Love lifted me!
When nothing else could help,
Love lifted me.8
To many, then, Peter is a hero. A flawed character to be sure—who isn’t?—but a hero nonetheless. The man who skipped on the water like a rock teaches us all that we can walk on troublesome waves as long as we keep our eyes on the Savior.
When we puzzled over the purpose of the first boat story (8:23–27), we noticed how scholarly opinion tended to divide along theological lines. Some saw a christological purpose in Matthew’s version of the stilling of the storm. The point of the story was to reveal the divinity of Jesus. Others thought Matthew focused more on the reaction of the disciples than the authority of Jesus. The entire episode revealed an ecclesiological purpose: the boat (i.e., the church) is the place where Jesus turned fishermen into disciples, teaching them to overcome their little faith during the storm. So, here we are again (14:22–33), sitting in a boat with the disciples and wondering, “Is this a story about Jesus or the Twelve? Are we supposed to marvel over Jesus’s ability to walk on water? Or should we take a lesson from Peter?” Maybe both. For as Davies and Allison write, “So often the First Evangelist, while addressing christological issues with his right hand, is at the same time delivering teaching on discipleship with his left. And so is it here.”9 Indeed, Matthew’s message comes into clearer focus the more we read his Gospel: Jesus’s lordship is revealed by our discipleship. The better we see him, the better we understand who we are. Indeed, these two sightlines converge at the climax of this story when Peter “cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ ” and then “immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. ‘You of little faith,’ he said, ‘why did you doubt?’ ” (vv. 30–31). That very moment, when Jesus grabbed Peter and asked him, “Why did you doubt?” dramatizes the intersection of Christology and discipleship. Note that Peter never answered the question. Rather, Matthew seems to have left it up to us to infer the answer.
Why did Peter doubt? Or better yet, what did Peter doubt? That’s what really puzzles me. Did he doubt the voice he heard? Perhaps. Did he doubt that Jesus would save him? Maybe. But I think we can infer conclusively what Peter didn’t doubt: that he could walk on water.10 That’s what we typically hear. Jesus was berating Peter for doubting that he could walk on water—that the sight of the large waves made him lose faith and sink. But that doesn’t make sense. Peter knew the waters were rough. He saw the fierce waves before he got out of the boat. He had already proven he could walk on water. So, what did he doubt? Why did he sink like a rock? I think the key to understanding Peter’s doubt is inferred from the line, “immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him” (v. 31). That Jesus could reach out “immediately” and grab Peter implies a certain proximity between them. In other words, before Peter went down he was standing right next to Jesus, close enough to see that it really was the Lord walking on water.
Remember, it was still dark when Jesus came to them. The disciples thought the shadowy figure was a ghost because they couldn’t see well. Jesus tried to calm their fears by shouting to them, “Take courage! It is I” [The Greek text actually reads egō eimi, “I am,” the covenant name of the God of Israel! See Exod 3:14.] Then Peter tests the waters to see if what he heard is true. The fact that he could walk on water wouldn’t settle the issue: evil spirits have magical powers too. So, as Peter is walking on the water, neither he nor his shipmates would know for certain it was Jesus—that is, until Peter got close enough to Jesus to see that it really was him. That’s when Peter doubted, when he could see with his eyes that the ghost was Jesus. Ironically, Peter was able to walk on water because it was dark. But as soon as he could see with his own eyes that it was Jesus, he took his eyes off him and looked around at the waves. Then, I think, it must have dawned on him: now there are two men walking on water. And that’s when he sank like a rock. I imagine the whole scenario from Jesus’s perspective. You see Peter walking out slowly, getting closer and closer to you. You can barely make out the look on his face, perhaps complete astonishment or utter shock. When he finally reaches you, his wide-eyed, openmouthed, awestruck face slowly changes to a look of recognition. You look at him, smiling from ear to ear. He looks at you, then the waves, then to you with a look of horror—as if he had seen a ghost. He sinks. Cries out to you for help. Because he’s so close, all you have to do is reach down and grab him. You both know what happened. He didn’t doubt he could walk on water until he knew it was you. “Oh, littlefaith. Why did you doubt that it was me?” It reminds me of what the psalmist prayed:
Save me, O God,
for the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in the miry depths,
where there is no foothold.
I have come into the deep waters;
the floods engulf me.
I am worn out calling for help;
my throat is parched.
My eyes fail,
looking for my God. (Ps 69:1–3, emphasis added)
That sounds like an apt description of what happened to Peter: his eyes failed him. Except in this case, it was because he looked at a man and didn’t realize he was looking at God—that is, until they all got in the boat: “Truly you are the Son of God” (Matt 14:32). So when the entire village of Gennesaret showed up to welcome Jesus with their sick, it must have dawned on the Twelve that these people had no idea who they were dealing with (v. 35). Sure, they wanted to reach out their hands and touch the hem of his garment to be healed (v. 36)—the disciples had already seen that. But when a man who walks on water reaches out his hand to grab you and pull you from the jaws of death—well, that’s an entirely different kind of miracle, one that is hard to explain because it never happened again.
LIVE the Story
Where do we find ourselves in this story? Are we supposed to follow Jesus and walk on water too? Should we want to be like Peter and get out of the boat of our comfort to challenge the stormy waves of life? Or is Peter the poster boy of presumption, pretense, and doubt—a lesson on what not to do? And what about the rest of the disciples? Aren’t we supposed to see our reflection in their faces, tirelessly trying to do what the Lord commanded, knowing he promised them that they would see him “on the other side”? Was this a training session for just the Twelve, or are we supposed to take a lesson from this bizarre story? Moreover, what are we to make of Jesus after a story like this? Admire him for his superhuman ability to walk on water? Worship him as the Son of God? Or endlessly puzzle over why he did it, meditating on the mystery of this strange convergence of deity and humanity? Any of these approaches could yield rich insight into how we might “live this story.” Yet, rather than direct our attention to the main characters of the story—Jesus, Peter, and the boated disciples—I want to focus on the elements within the story that created tension in the plotline: the wind, water, and darkness.11
The wind made it difficult to obey Jesus. For some reason, we often get the impression that doing what Jesus commanded should be easy. After all, he wouldn’t tell us to do something unless it could be done. Besides, with God on our side, shouldn’t the Lord make our paths straight, put the wind in our sails, make life breezy? And sometimes that happens, when it seems like God removes every hindrance, when circumstances come together so well, when everyone is cheery in their work. He can take a few loaves and fish and feed a multitude. At that point, a peaceful calm hovers over our frenetic activity. Like a well-oiled machine, things get done in a timely manner. Smooth sailing makes for a happy crew. Everyone can see that God is at work among us. He’s making this happen. But think about what happens when we’re told to sail our boat into the face of contrary winds. Zigzagging our way to where we’re trying to go can be incredibly frustrating. “Are we making any progress?” Fighting against the waves of opposition, we can’t help but wonder, “Is God for us or against us?” At what point do we drop sails to take another tack and throw our oars in the water to paddle fiercely so we can make some headway? Trying to make things happen by trying harder, pushing against the prevailing “wind” (pneuma) sometimes feels like we’re working against the Spirit (Pneuma). “Aren’t we wasting time?” Sometimes doing what Jesus commanded is hard work—perhaps the hardest thing you’ll ever do. It takes courage to carry on when everyone is tired of rowing—at which point someone in the boat might pray, “I wish he were here with us.” Then we hear his reassuring words, “Take courage. It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
The waves made it difficult to get to Jesus. You’ve done what he told you to do, but now you find yourself in the middle, navigating the waters when you’d rather find your footing on solid ground. Indeed, life “in between” can be unsettling—between the places of origin and destination, between the times of his presence and his promise. Jesus sent us on this journey of faith with a promise he would meet us on the other side. His absence means he’s coming. In the meantime, we can’t help but search the shoreline for his return, hoping to catch a glimmer of his presence, our destination. Yet during his absence, sometimes he shows up in unexpected ways. The miracle of his presence inspires us to walk on water, to run to him, to be with him. He bids us to come. Walking on faith, skipping across the waves of doubt and despair, we find ourselves in the middle once again. Only this time we know it’s a journey we have to take by ourselves. It can be a lonely feeling, trying to walk on water while others watch from the boat of their reliable habitation. We may falter, our feet failing us when we take our eyes off Jesus. Yet, even then we know he will reach down with his strong arm of salvation when we cry out in desperation for him. Jesus saves because he knows he’s our only hope. That’s all we want—to cross the great divide and be with him. And, one day all of us will be with him, when he comes to us, the captain of our vessel, and boards the ship of our company, bringing us safely to the other side. So we pray in the middle of our journey, in between the times, “Maranatha” (“Come, Lord!”).
The night made it difficult to see Jesus. I think about how different things would have been if this episode happened in the middle of the day. “Oh look. I think that’s Jesus coming to us, walking on the water. Hey, look guys! It’s him. (Laughter and high fives.) Wow, isn’t that astonishing? He never ceases to amaze. First, he feeds five-thousand men with five loaves and two fish, and now he tops that miraculous feat by strolling on the water. (More laughter leads to jesting; someone mentions the time Elisha made the ax head float.)12 Hey Jesus, let’s see if a rock can float on water too? Come on Peter, get out there and show us what you’ve got.” What a difference the night makes. It’s easy to celebrate Jesus when we see clearly in the light of day. But God made the darkness before there was light. Of course, the best way to get through the night is to close our eyes. Daily troubles, however, often lead to sleepless nights, and with eyes wide open in the darkness we try to make sense of what we can’t see. It’s especially then when Jesus’s ghostly presence is more troubling than reassuring; the cross of his death doesn’t look like good news. Why death? Why heartache? Why God? Why does it have to be so hard? But then, Easter’s morning light, the dawning of the day, brings clarity after a dark night of the soul. If he could walk on water, if he could still the storm, if he must carry a cross, if he has indeed defeated death, then praise be to God! Praise be to God! Praise be to God! Truly he is the Son of God. Night and day, that’s all I need to know. I must see Jesus in the darkness, in the difficulty, in the meantime.
We’ve just finished chapter fourteen; we’re halfway there.
1. Jesus assumed a role that the Old Testament reserved for God (Keener, Matthew, 406; also Turner, Matthew, 373).
2. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:504.
3. See David B. Capes, Rodney Reeves, and E. Randolph Richards, Rediscovering Jesus: An Introduction to Biblical, Religious, and Cultural Perspectives on Christ (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2015), 222–23, 231, 234.
4. Scholars struggle with the relevance of the story as well; for example, see Luz, Matthew, 2:322–23; Bruner, Matthew, 2:74–75.
5. I marvel over how many times believers conflate the two boat stories when I’ve asked them to summarize the episode of Jesus walking on the water. Try it sometime. Ask them, “Why did Jesus walk on water?” and most of the time you’ll get a response like, “Because their boat was sinking,” or, “Because the disciples were about to drown.”
6. France, Matthew, 569.
7. Keener, Matthew, 407.
8. James Rowe and Howard E. Smith, “Love Lifted Me” (1912). Public domain.
9. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:512–13.
10. Garland, Reading Matthew, 159.
11. “Water, storm, and night are symbols of distress, fear, and death, familiar to the church primarily from the language of the Psalms” (Luz, Matthew, 2:318).
12. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:500.