In the Gospel of John, the signs of Jesus are not random miracles, they are carefully chosen revelations, windows into who he is. In our last episode, the crowd watch Jesus feed the 5,000 on the hillside. But in the very next scene, John shifts from the masses to the few. The next sign Jesus performs is not for a people who followed him for bread, but for those he is forming into his own people. This time, Jesus does not reveal his power through provision, but through his presence. He walks toward his disciples in the dark through the storm on the waves. What they see that night is not just a display of power, but a glimpse of his eternal identity. Here's Pastor Harry Barens with today's teaching.

Hello and welcome again to the takeaway. Today we're continuing in John chapter 6, looking at verses 16 to 21, one of the most intimate and overlooked moments in this gospel. In the previous scene, Jesus fed the 5,000. He tested his disciples with a question about bread, revealed himself as the true giver, and quietly began to form a remnant while the crowd misunderstood the sign. Now the focus shifts. The crowd is off stage. The hillside is behind us. Jesus turns his attention to the men he has chosen, and he does it in a way that will mark them for the rest of their lives. The second sign in John 6 doesn't deal with hunger, it deals with fear. It doesn't just show that Jesus can provide, it shows that he is Lord in the very place where his people feel most helpless. Let's walk through this together, starting in verses 16 and 17. It says, 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. Evening comes, the disciples go down to the sea, they get into the boat, and they start across. Imagine the scene. That does not mean he forgot them. It means he is not there yet by design. The delay is part of the lesson. Before he reveals himself on the water, he lets them feel the weight of obedience in the dark, so that when he comes, they will know the difference his presence makes. Now many of us know what that feels like. We step into something because we're trying to honor the Lord. We take the job, start the ministry, have the conversation, stay faithful in hard places. And instead of instant blessing, things get cloudy. The temptation is to think, did I miss him? But John is showing us something else. Sometimes Jesus Himself sends his disciples into the night, not to abandon them, but to prepare them for a greater revelation of who he is. Now looking at verse 18, it says, The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. Now the Sea of Galilee is known for its sudden storms. What begins as calm and still can shift in moments. Warm air rising off the water meets cool air rushing down from the surrounding hills, and without warning, the lake and the sea turns violent. John doesn't linger on these details. He simply states, the sea became rough. The strong wind was blowing and everything changed. Now imagine the disciples in that moment. They are rowing into darkness, the shoreline behind them, swallowed by night. The wind beats against their bodies, cold and relentless. Waves rise and slap the side of the boat, sending water over the edges until their clothes cling heavy to their skin. Each breath tastes like water. Each stroke of the roar of the oar feels weaker than the last. Their arms burn, their backs ache, their hearts pound somewhere between fear and determination. And through it all, one reality hangs over them. They cannot see the shore. They cannot see Jesus. All they can do is keep going in the direction he told them to go. Now that tension is familiar. You obey what you know, you do the right thing, you follow the command you were given. And yet life seems to grow harder, not easier. The winds rise, the waves build, the path becomes darker, not clearer, and deep inside a quiet question surfaces. If I were really following Christ, wouldn't this be smoother? Easier, or better? But John is teaching us the opposite. The storm isn't proof they are lost. It is proof they are exactly where Jesus sent them. They are not suffering because they disobeyed, they are suffering because they obeyed. Storms do a kind of heart work that calm days never could. They strip away the illusion that we are in control. They reveal how quickly our strength runs out. They expose what we trust in when familiar landmarks disappear, and they prepare us to see Jesus in ways we can never see him from the comfort of the shore. In the dark, in the wind, in the exhaustion of obedience, the disciples are being brought to the end of themselves. And that is precisely the place where revelation is about to break in. True believers know this place well. We know what it is to follow Jesus with sincerity, to obey what we believe he has spoken, and to step into something simply because we trust him. But we often stumble, where we often stumble is in assuming that obedience should make life easier. We imagine that the clarity of God's command should lead to the smoothness of our path. But Jesus is never concerned with ease. He is concerned with forming a faith that can withstand the wind. And he is concerned with teaching us to be satisfied in the storm, not simply delivered from it. Every one of us knows this tension. We have all made decisions, taken steps and entered seasons or walked into commitments because we believed with the information we had at the time that what we were honoring, that we were honoring God. And then later, sometimes months, sometimes years, we discover that what we knew wasn't all the information. There was a storm on the horizon. There were winds we didn't see coming. And let's be honest, had we known what we know now, we would have never taken that step. Not because we're faithless, but because we are human. This is why Jesus commands us before we have the full picture. He knows that we would choose what we would choose if we walked by sight. He knows the flesh would tighten its grip. He knows we would avoid anything that threatens our comfort. So he leads us by his word, not by our understanding. He gives just enough light for obedience, but not enough light for control. Only later, when the storm rises, when the wind opposes us, when the journey becomes impossible, does he reveal why he sent us this way? He lets us feel our weakness, not to shame us, but to save us from trusting in ourselves. He brings us to the end of what we can do, so he can show us what only he can do. And this is exactly what we are about to see next. In the storm, Jesus will reveal something the disciples never could have understood on the shore. He brings them to the end by his design, so that he can bring them into life by his grace. Storms are not always the result of bad choices. More often they are the result of faithful obedience, obedience given with the limited sight we had in the moment. And what we will discover is this grace is not given to make up the difference. Grace is given to accomplish what we never could. So now we're ready for what happens next. In verse 19, 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. Now by this point, they've been rowing for hours. John tells us they have gone three or four miles, about halfway across. They are nowhere near land. It is dark, the wind is still against them, and at that point of exhaustion, they see something they have no category for. Jesus walking on the sea, coming toward the boat. John's phrase is important. In Greek, it is to walk upon the sea, not along the shore, not through shallow water, not hovering above it, but walking where no human feet can stand. This is not just an impressive stunt. For any Jewish disciple who knew the scriptures, the image would call to mind passages like these, Job 9.8, who alone stretched out the heavens and trampled the waves of the sea. Psalm 77 19. Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters, yet your footprints were unseen. In the Old Testament, God alone is the one who rules the sea and treads its chaos underfoot. When Jesus comes to them walking on the water, he is not just helping them survive a bad night. He is quietly placing himself in the role of Israel's God. The one who multiplied bread is in his hands, is now trampling the waves that threaten his disciples. John also tells us he was coming near the boat. Now that matters. Jesus isn't standing at a safe distance, calling instructions from the shoreline. He walks straight toward the place where their fear is greatest. The storm doesn't draw him away, it draws him in. Their reaction is exactly what you would expect. They are terrified. At first their fear was about the storm. Now it shifts to the one they see on the water. They sense they are in the presence of someone who is not just stronger than the wind, but in command of it. Verse 20. But he said to them, It is I, do not be afraid. In the middle of their fear, Jesus speaks. Now that phrase, it is I, is literally I am in the Greek. It's the same covenant name God gave Moses at the burning bush. I am who I am in Exodus 3.14. Jesus is not merely saying, It's me, your rabbi. He is quietly invoking the divine name. The God who parted the Red Sea is now standing on the sea, speaking to his disciples in the dark. And notice the order. Revelation first, it is I, and then comfort second, do not be afraid. Understanding comes before relief. Jesus doesn't calm the storm yet, he calms their hearts by revealing himself. The same pattern holds in our lives. We want peace first and clarity later. But God often reveals who he is before he changes anything around us. Peace doesn't come from the waves settling. Peace comes from knowing the one who stands above the waves. And it's at this moment in the story that many listeners naturally wonder why doesn't John tell us about Peter walking on the water? Matthew records it, Mark hints at it, but John stays silent. Now there's a reason, and it doesn't diminish the story. John is not hiding Peter's faith or failure. He is highlighting something different, the revelation of Jesus more than the reaction of the disciples. John's gospel is laser focused on one thing, showing the glory of Christ. In his telling, the spotlight stays on Jesus, his identity, his presence, his words, not on Peter's moment in the water, which you'll hear about in a moment when we turn to Matthew's account. So John keeps the camera on the I am standing on the waves, because that is the truth he wants burning in our minds before we see anything else. Now in Matthew's account, once Jesus has identified himself on the water, Peter responds with a mixture of boldness and weakness that feels very human. In Matthew 14, 28 to 31, we read, And Peter answered him, Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water. He said, Come. So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink, he cried out, Lord, save me. Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, O you of little faith, why do you doubt? Now Peter doesn't step out on a whim here. He asks for a command. Lord, if it is you, command me to come. When Jesus says come, Peter actually walks on the water. For a moment the same sea that terrified him is under his feet. But then his attention moves from Christ to the wind. The waves look larger than the word that called him. Fear rises and he begins to sink. The command has done what God's commands always do. It has exposed the limits of human strength. Peter's obedience is real, but it cannot carry him all the way. From that place of failure, Peter cries the simplest and most important prayer, Lord, save me. And Matthew tells us Jesus immediately reaches out his hand and catches him. Jesus doesn't let him sink as a lesson. He doesn't wait to see how far Peter can swim. The same Lord who gave the command now supplies what Peter cannot. That little exchange shows us the pattern we see all through Scripture. God commands, our weakness is revealed, and his grace sustains what we cannot fulfill. John emphasizes the glory of Christ on the waves. Matthew lets us see grace at work in the life of one failing disciple. Together, they show us a Savior who calls us out, catches us when we falter, and then does more than just return us to survival. In John 6 21, we read, Then they were glad to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land to which they were going. Now John moves the story forward with one simple sentence. The disciples welcome him into the boat, and immediately the boat is at the shore. That word immediately is easy to skip over, but it completely reshapes the scene. These men are only halfway across. They have been fighting the wind for hours. There is no natural way they are suddenly at land. The miracle is not only that Jesus walks in the water, it's that once he steps into the boat, the journey is effectively over. They do not complete the crossing in their own strength. He brings them where they could not bring themselves. That is a picture of how his grace works in our lives. We row, we strain, we make decisions, we act. But in the end, the reason we arrive where God has called us is not because we were strong enough, but because Christ was present with us. The same Lord who sent the disciples into the storm is the one who carries them through it and brings them to the shore. Now, as we look back over the scene, a pattern begins to come into focus. On the hillside, Jesus revealed his kindness by feeding the crowd. On the sea, he revealed his majesty to his disciples, and his mercy when he walked across the waves to meet them in their fear. He sent them into the dark, allowed the storm to rise, came to them in a way only God can, spoke his divine name, lifted Peter when he began to sink, and then stepped into the boat and brought them safely to the shore. Meanwhile, the crowd remained behind. They slept through the storm, they woke up looking for more bread. They never saw the glory the disciples saw that night. And that raises a question we all need to consider. Are you still on the shore of unbelief? It's possible to be close to Jesus, to be around his people, to taste his provision, to enjoy the blessings of his presence, and yet never step into the place where faith is formed. The crowd stayed where it was comfortable. The disciples went where it was costly. A lot of us live in that boat picture. We know what it looks like to obey Jesus and still feel like the wind is against us. We know what it is, what it's like to row through exhaustion, trying to hold a family together, trying to carry a calling, trying to navigate grief, or pushing through pressure no one else can. Some listening today feel like Peter. You stepped out in faith. You met every word. But somewhere along the way the waves looked bigger than the one who called you. And you began to sink. If that's you, I want you to hear this. The same Jesus who sent them into the boat is the Jesus who walked onto the waves to reach them. The same Lord who said, Come to Peter is the one who immediately caught him. The same Savior who stood above the storm is the one who stepped into the boat and brought them to the shore. You don't earn that presence. You don't row your way into his favor. The Christian life is not your proving you can survive the sea. It is you learning to look up and say, Lord, save me. And trusting the one who has already stepped onto the ways for you. Wherever you are today, tired from rowing, afraid you're sinking, or staring into a horizon you can't make sense of. The scene is an invitation. Lift your eyes from the wind and the water. Fix them on the one who comes to you in the storm and says, I am. Do not be afraid. Let's pray. Father, thank you that you do not leave us, that you do not leave your people alone in the dark. Thank you that the storms we walk into are not outside of your control, and that every wave that frightens us is under the feet of your Son. Help us to see Jesus more clearly in the middle of all our fear. Teach us to trust his presence more than we fear our circumstances. For those who feel like they're sinking, give them the courage to cry out, Lord, save me, and the faith to believe that his hand is already reaching for them. Bring our hearts to rest in the one who not only walks on the sea, but steps into the boat and carries us home. In Jesus' name. Amen. Now in our next episode, we're going to move from the sign to the explanation. The crowd will find Jesus again and they're going to ask questions. They'll talk about Moses and Manna, and Jesus will begin to unfold what the bread really meant and why the works of God are not what we do for Him, but what He does in us through faith. Now I hope you'll join me next time as we enter the bread of life discourse in John 6 and see how Jesus turns miracles into invitations to trust him. Now, before you go, if today's episode stirred something in you, a question, a passage you'd like to hear more about, or even a situation you'd like prayer for, you're always welcome to reach out through the text us link in the episode description. Many of you listen quietly, and that's completely fine. I'm grateful you're here. But if you ever feel led to share a thought or ask a question, I would love to hear from you. Your messages help me understand how to serve you better as we walk this journey of faith together. God bless, and we'll see you next time on the takeaway.