In the spring of 1910, former President Theodore Roosevelt was on a whirlwind speaking tour through Europe culminating in Oslo, Norway where he would receive the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts at brokering the Treaty of Portsmouth that ended the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905. In April, he gave a very long speech, Citizenship in a Republic, at the Sorbonne in Paris. The bulk of the speech is largely forgotten but a small excerpt would go down as one of his more famous quotes, popularly known as the “Man in the Arena” speech. This may be my favorite non-biblical quote.
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
Teddy must have admired the disciple, Peter. Peter was an “in-the-arena-sort-of-guy.” I have heard many sermons about Peter, critical of his unbelief–first and foremost, his denial of Christ at His crucifixion. But a close second would be criticism of his wavering faith while walking on the water. I just don’t see Peter in too much of a negative light. In fact, there is plenty to emulate here. This event is a classic “man in the arena” story and easily one of my favorite biblical accounts.
Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.
Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “Tell me to come to you on the water.”
“Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
Matthew 14:25-33, NIV
Peter doubted and that is certainly a negative. Jesus, after all, rebuked him for it. But Peter did walk on the water. He and Jesus are in a very exclusive fraternity in this regard. And remember, there were eleven disciples who did not make the journey. They were content to watch from the familiar confines of the boat. Peter had, as Teddy would say it, the “great enthusiasm” of walking on the water and would fail while “daring greatly.” He also had the great enthusiasm of being rescued by Jesus’ strong hand. What of the other eleven–those “cold and timid souls” back in the boat? Their collective experience was likely limited to vicarious regrets wishing they had taken that first step beyond the gunwale. The lesson often lost in this story is that in spite of Peter’s shortcomings, it was still better to be a wet-water-walker than a dry-boat-sitter.
It was the juxtaposition of Teddy’s “Man in the Arena” quote with the illumination of Peter’s adventure on the water that helped spur me to action in 1987. I was married, three children with one on the way, and working a low-wage job in Norfolk, Virginia. Aspirations of medical school had diminished, choked by the tyranny of bills, schedules, and my own insecurities (was I good enough, smart enough, to do it?). But after the twin revelations of Teddy and Peter, I reasoned the worse thing that could happen would be failure, and even in failure, Jesus’ strong hand would be there for us. So I studied, took the Medical College Admissions Test, uprooted my family and moved to Missouri to reestablish state residency, and that next year applied to the University Of Missouri-Columbia School Of Medicine. And the rest is, as they say, history.
Thirty years later, my figurative boat has expanded. Uncertain seas of the past have transitioned to the surefooted decks of routine familiarity. I write this and wonder if I am again “in the boat.” What new thing does God want from me that requires taking a step beyond the gunwales of my comfort zone and natural abilities and onto the figurative water?
Jesus is certainly calling me.
“Come.”
Dash Stories 