You Can Love Jesus and Still Notice the Waves
August 19, 2026
For a long time, I thought strong faith was supposed to feel different than mine did. I thought if I trusted God enough, I wouldn't be afraid. If my faith were strong enough, I wouldn't struggle so much with the unknown. And surely if Jesus were really at the center of my life, I wouldn't keep looking around at everything that could go wrong.
Then I started seeing Peter differently. Most of us know the story: the disciples are in a boat when they see Jesus walking toward them on the water. Peter asks Jesus to call him out there.
Jesus says one word: “Come.” And Peter does. He actually gets out of the boat.
I think we rush past that part because we know what happens next. Peter sees the wind, becomes afraid, begins to sink, and cries out, “Lord, save me!”
But Peter got out of the boat first. He wanted Jesus enough to step onto water to get to Him and he still got scared.
I Understand Peter
I understand Peter because I can love Jesus with my whole heart and still notice the waves. For a long time, I thought those two things couldn't exist together.
Surely if I trusted God enough, I wouldn't be afraid. Surely if my faith were strong enough, I wouldn't struggle. Surely if Jesus were really at the center of my life, I wouldn't keep looking around.
But Peter did.
He wanted Jesus enough to climb out of the boat, and he still got scared.
I understand that more than I'd like to admit.
There have been seasons when I've felt like I was barely keeping my head above the water, struggling desperately while crying out for the same Jesus I had stepped out of the boat to get to.
I still find myself there sometimes, just not as often, and maybe that's growth.
I'm beginning to think spiritual maturity isn't reaching some place where I never notice another wave. It's recognizing sooner that I've taken my eyes off Jesus. It's catching myself when fear starts moving into the center or when I'm trying to control something I was supposed to trust Him with.
I still do those things. I just don't want to spend as much time desperately trying to keep myself afloat before finally crying what Peter cried:
“Lord, save me!”
Faith Doesn't Mean Pretending the Waves Aren't There
I spent a lot of years believing faith meant I shouldn't be afraid, but Scripture is filled with people who trusted God and were still human.
Peter was afraid.
David was afraid.
Moses questioned whether he was capable.
Even Jesus, in Gethsemane, experienced anguish over what was ahead.
Faith doesn't require us to pretend something isn't scary. Peter's problem wasn't that he could see the storm. The storm was real, and I think that's important.
Sometimes Christians can make each other feel like admitting fear is admitting a lack of faith.
Just trust God.-
I do trust God, and sometimes I'm still scared.
I can know God is faithful and still wonder how something is going to work out. I can believe He's leading me and still hesitate before taking the next step. I can know He's with me and still have moments when the waves look really big.
The question I'm learning to ask isn't, “Why am I noticing the waves?”
It's:
“Where am I looking once I notice them?”
Sometimes I Want God to Calm Everything First
This is probably where Peter and I have something else in common. I like answers, I like plans, and I like knowing what's coming. If something feels uncertain, my natural response is usually to figure it out. I want to understand the problem, anticipate what could happen, prepare for every possibility, and preferably have a backup plan for my backup plan.
I'd love for God to show me the entire path before asking me to take the first step.
He usually doesn't. Peter didn't step onto calm water; Jesus called him into the middle of a storm. That's uncomfortable for someone like me because sometimes I don't want God to tell me to come. I want Him to tell me exactly what will happen after I do. But that's not really faith, is it?
Proverbs 3:5–6 tells us to trust in the Lord with all our heart and not lean on our own understanding. I've read those words countless times, but lately one part has been challenging me: my own understanding.
I really like my own understanding; I like knowing, I like figuring things out, and sometimes trusting God means admitting that I don't.
Maybe You're Watching the Waves Too
Maybe your wave isn't anything like mine. Maybe it's your marriage, your child, your finances, your health, a decision you don't know how to make, a door you're terrified to walk through, a prayer God hasn't answered the way you expected.
Maybe you know Jesus is there, and you haven't stopped believing in Him. You haven't walked away from your faith; you're just tired, and the waves are loud.
I want you to know something I'm still learning myself:
Noticing the waves doesn't mean you've stopped loving Jesus.
Being afraid doesn't erase your faith. Having questions doesn't mean you've failed.
And needing Jesus to reach for you certainly doesn't make you weak. That's the whole reason we need a Savior. Peter didn't save himself. When he began to sink, he cried, “Lord, save me!”
Matthew tells us that Jesus immediately reached out His hand. I love that word, immediately. Peter didn't have to get himself back above the water first. He didn't have to prove that he'd learned his lesson. He didn't have to demonstrate stronger faith before Jesus reached for him. He cried out; Jesus reached.
Maybe This Is What Growth Looks Like
I still notice the waves; I still have moments when fear gets louder than it should, and I still try to control things that were never mine to control. But I recognize it sooner than I used to. Maybe that's what growth looks like.
Not becoming someone who never struggles. Not becoming someone who never gets scared. Not reaching some level of Christianity where the storms stop affecting us. Maybe it's simply spending less time trying to save ourselves before remembering Who is standing right there.
I don't want to become so focused on having perfect faith that I miss Jesus standing in front of me. I want to become quicker at looking back toward Him.
Quicker at releasing what I'm trying to control, quicker at admitting I don't know, and quicker at saying:
Lord, save me.
Because I'm learning that loving Jesus with my whole heart and noticing the waves can exist at the same time. I just don't want the waves to become bigger than the One I'm walking toward.
Reflection
What are the waves you're watching right now?
Maybe nothing about your circumstances has actually changed, but fear has gotten louder. Maybe you're trying to predict an outcome, control a situation, or figure out something God hasn't given you the answer to yet.
Ask yourself:
What am I afraid will happen if I stop trying to control this?
Am I looking toward Jesus, or am I spending most of my energy studying the storm?
Have I mistaken being afraid for having weak faith?
What am I trying to carry right now that I need to put back into God's hands?
When fear takes over, where do I go first?
You don't have to give yourself the answer you think a Christian should give. Give yourself the honest one. Peter didn't pretend he wasn't sinking. He simply knew who to call when he was. And maybe today your prayer doesn't need to be long or impressive either. Maybe it's simply: Lord, save me.
A Conversation with God
When I find myself watching the waves more closely than I'm watching You...
Father,
God, I love You, and I trust You. But sometimes I still get scared.
Sometimes the waves get my attention before You do. I start looking at everything that could go wrong, trying to figure out what happens next, and carrying things I was never meant to control.
Help me recognize those moments sooner. When fear gets loud, remind me where to look. When I don't understand what You're doing, help me trust You without needing every answer first. And when I start sinking under the weight of something I've been trying to carry myself, remind me that I don't have to save myself.
I don't want to pretend the waves aren't there. I just don't want to give them more power than they deserve.
Teach me to keep my eyes on You. And when I can't, when I'm tired or afraid and all I can manage is Lord, save me—thank You for being the God who still reaches for me.
Amen.
Keep Walking With Me
I've been journaling, blogging, and writing for a while, but lately those words have grown into something much bigger.
I'm writing a book called Fluent in Everyone Else about what happens when you spend so much of your life learning everyone around you—their emotions, expectations, needs, opinions, and reactions—that somewhere along the way you lose touch with your own voice.
But the more I've written, the more I've realized this journey isn't ultimately about becoming fluent in myself. It's about becoming fluent in God. Learning His voice well enough that it becomes louder than fear, rejection, comparison, regret, and all the other voices I've spent years listening to.
This post comes from one of those lessons I'm still learning.
If you're learning it too, I hope you'll keep walking with me.
Hi, I'm Carla.
For forty years, I learned, everyone else. Now I'm learning who God created me to be—and helping others do the same. Through honest stories, biblical truth, and practical encouragement, I hope that you'll discover the freedom to love deeply without losing yourself.
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