Ever have one of those pivotal moments in your life on which the very outcome of your destiny hung in the balance?  Mine centered around the high dive at the local civic center pool.  It was around the summer of ‘79 and I ventured down to the local watering hole with my friends to stave off the onslaught of the dog days of summer.  As usual a line had begun to form at both the low and the high dives as fellow adventurers looked for ways to add a little excitement to our aquatic escapades.   The low dive was usually reserved for those that wanted a quick splash or perfect the mechanics of their cannonball, can-opener or coffin to achieve maximum splash radius.  For the most part I had always confined myself with that happy end of the pool, yet as many can attest to there comes a time when the machismo of every young man is tested.  Would I be brave enough to tackle the high dive? 

Now a couple of notes should be highlighted at this point.  There was the standing rule handed down through the ages from lifeguard to lifeguard that once a swimmer begins his ascent up the slippery cold steel of the ladder there was no turning back.  Failure to follow through could slow the whole procession to a crawl and have adverse effects on the tanning process.  Also those that made it onto the actual diving board and had a change of heart opened themselves up for public ridicule and would be forever branded for the rest of their lives, or until the pool closed, whichever came first.

So this fateful summer I found myself standing in line for the high dive.  I’m not quite sure why I stayed in the line, but before I knew it I found myself staring the the polished chrome rungs of the ladder.  The next few moments are a blur as for some reason I found myself climbing up the ladder, passing through dense cloud cover as I went.  There, once I had sufficient clearance from air traffic control, I approached the end of the board to prepare for my descent.

In the span of mere seconds I began to calculate the various outcomes of my life.  I wondered how loud the sound would be if I should happen hit the water with a belly flop.  Would they be able to identify my remains?  Would I be able to have children of my own some day?  Is water going to go up my nose and leave me with that incredibly painful burning sensation throughout my sinus cavities?

Have you ever had one of those moments?

The Bible tells this story of this man called Peter who faced a water challenge of his own. In the Gospel of Matthew in the 14th chapter as his little fishing boat floated out on the water, Peter looked across and saw a man walking on top of the water as if it was dry land.  It just so happened to be Jesus.  Then Peter did something that I don’t think he was even really ready for. "Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water." (Matthew 14:28 NIV)

I understand that walking on water (no ice does not count) is a pretty incredible act.  Recently as I’ve gone over this text I find more amazement in that Peter opened himself up to the unknown.  If Peter hadn’t of said anything there is the possibility that Jesus would have just continued to come along and eventually enter the boat to sit with them.  They would be amazed and the Gospels would continue on.  But … he did say something.

I find it easy to stay at the low dive of life.  It’s easy and comfortable and the line moves along nicely. Is that what I want?  Every now and then I find myself glancing over at the high dive and wonder.  What if?   Maybe it’s time for all of us to open ourselves to the unknown.  What if we looked across the open water that is before us and said.."Lord, if it's you tell me to come to you on the water."