Then Peter called to him, “Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you, walking on the water.” (Matthew 14:28)
Relate: Lord, if it is really You, tell me to come to You walking on the water. It is three AM. I don’t like being up this late but because there is an 8 hour time difference with everyone back in New York, it does happen more than I would care to admit. I was chatting with a friend a bit and that led to reading up a little more on CAIR. A podcast is playing with the fiery, anointed, but not always accurate John Gray is getting me all shaken up on the inside. Next thing I know I am reading up on the prophesies fulfilled by Jesus. I really should be sleeping and am about to shut it down for the night when I realize I haven’t written tomorrow’s devotional yet. If I am up this late now there is no way I will be able to be back up in three hours to give it the time these things deserve and have it done before church.
So it is three AM and I am reading Genesis 44 and 45. Then I skip over to Matthew 14. As I am reading this I feel God asking me, “Why haven’t you asked me this?”
That is not a fair question. I sold or gave away everything I own, paired my life’s possessions down to 100 pounds total divided into three suitcases, and hopped on to a plane not truly knowing where I would land to follow Jesus. I pretty much did the same thing again in moving from a safer Istanbul to here in Gaziantep this fall. I am watching as fewer and fewer Americans remain and even the ones willing to do so are being deported or barred from reentry. I have spent sleepless nights wondering where and how I will have funds to eat and leave the house every morning wondering if today is the day I will be noticed by the wrong polis or bureaucrat and am packing my bags to leave Turkey (or sitting in a jail cell for months like a friend in Izmir).
This is the laundry list I give to God but he just turns around and says again, “Why haven’t you asked me this?” I have no answer, but yet… I am incapable of asking. I am afraid if I do, “He will say, OK. Come.” That terrifies me.