Two posts disturbed me this week. One was about going to Mary for comfort and the second was a post from the LDS church pointing the reader to look to the Temple. You should seriously question a religion that points to anyone other than Jesus. So I wrote a short story to illustrate how neither a human Mary nor the stone Temple can bring us Salvation, comfort, or care. Enjoy.
The wind frightened the disciples. The storm brought large swells in the sea of Galilee that lapped over the sides of their boat. They scrambled to keep the boat from capsizing. Peter clutched the sides of the boat until his knuckles went white. He observed how the night looked as black as Hades. The last time they crossed the sea and a storm came upon them, the Lord slept in their boat. The Lord was not here. Earlier in the day, Jesus went up on a mountain to pray and bid them to cross the sea without him.
The wind raged like a demon, almost howling as it whipped around them, teasing up giant waves that brought their boat up to a crest, and slid them down into a canyon. The rest of the disciples struggled to keep the boat pointed towards their destination. Peter kept staring from the bow into the murky darkness.
What was that? He squinted his eyes, blinked, and used the back of his hand to wipe the water from his eyes. His tunic stuck to him like second skin. Something pale walked toward them between the swells like those casual walks to the temple under the bright sunlight. The storm didn’t make the ghostly apparition flinch or struggle.
“It’s a ghost!” Screamed a disciple.
“It’s a demon! We are doomed.” Another sobbed.
“Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.” The familiar sound of Jesus’ voice reassured them.
“Lord, if it be thou, bid me to come unto thee on the water.” Peter longed to be near his Lord even though the storm made him question his own foolishness.
“Come.” Jesus called, and he stopped walking, standing between the swells like a traveler between two canyon walls. Jesus waited.
Peter fixed his gaze on Jesus as he stepped over the side of the boat. His feet made contact with the sea while his hands gripped too tightly the side of the boat which continued to heave. Peter released the boat and stood up straight. He could feel the power of the sea pulsating beneath his feet as he took one step, then two. The water lapped over his sandals as if Peter walked through a shallow creek. The wind berated him. His wet tunic whipped around his legs, stinging his skin. He felt fear, and looked away for a moment to see the giant swells of the sea around him.
Peter felt the water rise to his knees and he looked down. He was sinking! “Lord, save me!” He screamed, looking again at Jesus.
Jesus was suddenly next to Peter, stretching out his hand, and catching Peter from falling into the dark sea. “O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?”
And the sea stopped raging. The wind went silent. The black sky began to sparkle again with stars and a crescent moon. Jesus walked Peter back to the boat where the rest of the disciples stood slack jawed at Jesus’ power over the waves and the wind.
One moved forward and fell to his knees. “Of a truth, thou art the Son of God.”
Peter knelt with the others and worshiped Jesus.