The disciples in the boat had already been unsettled by the fierce storm that had arisen, but they grew completely disoriented when they saw the vaguely familiar figure coming to them, walking across the waves! Wind and waves, though scary, were within the realm of expectation, but now their minds were reeling as they tried to process the sight. Since men can walk only on land, their “reasonable” assumption was, “It must be a ghost!” Peter, however, seemed more intrigued than afraid. In what had to be a “lost in the moment” act, he called out, “Lord, if it is you, tell me to come to you.” To the disciples’ shock, Jesus signaled him to come. Peter joined Jesus in his wave walking, making history. The story does not end there, however, for the storm that had evidently ceased to be an issue for Peter returned to his consciousness, and Peter “lost the moment” and began to sink. He had already defied gravity—the journey of a thousand steps had successfully begun with that first one—but, when Peter took in the imagery of the storm, the break in focus literally threatened his life. Jesus had to take his hand to save him and lead him—still wave walking—back to the boat.
The most common “preach” to be taken from this text is the exhortation to keep one’s eyes on Jesus, rather than on harrowing circumstances. All Christians would agree with this message, even if we don’t always understand what it means to “have our eyes on Jesus.” Certainly keeping our inner focus fixed on the truth of Jesus’ word and presence will help us navigate the impossible in our lives, but I think there is another way to look at Peter’s sinking experience that is valid. When Peter was lost in the consciousness of walking out to Jesus, he was in what students of human performance and creativity call “flow” state and when he sunk, he had been interrupted from flow much like, in science, quantum phenomena refuse to perform for their laboratory observers!
Flow state occurs when a person is so engrossed in an activity that he enters a heightened state of “relaxed focus” such that, oblivious to his surroundings, he becomes virtually “one” with the activity. Flow rarely occurs while doing mundane activities (like housework) unless the activity is so repetitive or familiar that one can lose themselves in thought during it. Creative acts such as art, music or writing, often lead a person to flow state IF the person is confident enough in their creative abilities to override the performance anxiety that attends the creative attempt. (What if no one likes it? What if it won’t sell? etc.) When art or any activity is done just for the activity’s sake, flow is probable.
What makes flow state the buzz topic that it is today? In flow, a person experiences something like a mini-eternity where hours pass unnoticed. There is an increased sense of peace and well-being (and even tangible health benefits) that result, much like the effects of meditation. Flow is really like a bit of heaven on earth. Happy natural opiates wash the tired brain bringing a sense of transcendence that is more and more necessary for survival. Flow is a powerful place.
We are all too familiar with the opposite of flow: distraction. If we are unable to tune out the worries and concerns of our mind, or the chaos of our environment, often the joy and abandonment from even the activities we love stay just out of reach. Athletes, who often call flow, “the zone” say things like, “My head wasn’t in the game” to describe distraction. Artists go through periods of frustration when they fixate on something other than the art and find themselves no long “in the moment”…Distraction occurs when we strain toward the results of the creating, rather than enjoying the experience.
Obviously, Peter’s stroll on water would not have been possible without the miraculous power of Jesus, but tapping into that power was a result of “flow” in Peter’s mind. All the disciples saw Jesus coming to them, but the rest were completely distracted by fear. Only Peter seemed to be caught up in what Jesus was doing and intuitively sensed that Jesus would share the supernatural experience with him. The sight of Jesus defying gravity caught Peter’s spiritual imagination. When he called out, “Tell me to come to you,” I think Peter was already in the zone. When he walked out on the water, his focus was fixed not only upon the comfort of Jesus the Friend but the Mastery Jesus had to share. Peter was stepping with Jesus into the infinite possibilities of the God-realm. He was fully “in the moment,” one with Jesus’ intention. (We really should pause and marvel that Jesus shows no resistance to Peter joining him…too often we disallow ourselves from faith-ventures he would not forbid.)
But Peter did not “keep his head in the game.” His faith collapsed into fear and he sank. By focusing too much on himself and his own resources—i.e. humans can’t walk on water—he broke the focus on the miracle that was in process. Fear always plays a major role in breaking flow. Peter literally experienced two different types of consciousness when he walked and when he sank—total focus and total distraction. It is interesting that when describing the mental components of the dysfunction known as “the curse of the law,” the King James wording lists “distraction” as a description of madness.
C.S. Lewis, in his autobiography which carefully traces his thought-paths all the way to Christianity, describes a similar phenomenon as presented in Alexander’s Space Time and Deity. He says that when one cannot “enjoy” and activity and “contemplate” it at the same time, because the very act of contemplation causes one to step outside the experience to examine it—hence instantly abandoning enjoyment. “The surest way of spoiling a pleasure was to start examining your satisfaction,” says Lewis. (Surprised by Joy, 1986, LDAP, Inc., NY) David Seamands, who has written extensively to help free Christians from performance orientation, compares this tendency to a window-washer on the top floors of a sky-scraper who steps back to check his work, an examination that would obviously meet with disaster! (Healing your Heart of Painful Emotions, 1993, Inspirational Press, NY) Someone who is constantly checking their progress is actually choking their source. Any good scientist recognizes this as a sort of “macro-Heissenberg” event: one in which a system much larger than an atom, namely a human psyche, is perturbed by the examination applied to it.
In all acts of creation, flow is of the essence. Few great works of art and no great acts of worship are produced by goal-driven, achievement-oriented technicians. Anyone who has felt the joy of creativity can attest to the fact that it does almost feel like walking on water. There are times when what comes out through your heart and body feels “more than human,” as if Jesus has bid you to come to him across the sea of paint, words or dance. But, too often, almost as if it was too good to be true, we step outside ourselves and analyze in an attempt to observe our work from the outside. “Will anyone else appreciate this?” we allow ourselves to wonder, and all too quickly anxiety trickles into our bliss and before we know it, we are sinking. No, the sinking isn’t literal, but it might as well be for all the havoc it wreaks.
This sinking is especially perplexing when an artist is caught between the constraints of making a living (generating income from their art) and being free to create. Questions of marketability wrap themselves around latent self-doubt and threaten to choke the life out of the whole process. One of the most imaginative scenes in The Passion of the Christ, was a flashback to Jesus’ carpentry days that showed his mother questioning the functionality of a table Jesus has created. Jesus gently laughs off her caution and seems far more concerned with the experience of creating than filling the Roman era’s expectations for dining furniture. We often have the notion that Jesus’ carpentry days were simply a tutorial period for him, teaching him to endure until he could finally launch what he really wanted to do–his ministry. But Jesus probably learned from those days of service much more than just how to wait. He learned to worship God through all aspects of life and THAT is the essence of flow. We can only imagine, as Mel Gibson has, what Jesus was like as a craftsman, as an artist. But we see clearly later in life that he walked, uninterrupted in the flow of the spirit, regardless of how fiercely he was assailed with misunderstanding and criticism! Whether it is through visual creations or acts of service or the spoken word with signs following, maintaining the flow of God is the power behind all true ministry.
For those who have experienced flow only to have it collapse into self-doubt, the good news is: flow can always be found again! (Even in quantum physics, the collapse of the wave function really is reversible.*) The way back is the cross upon which Jesus died under the load of all of humanity’s distractions. On that cross, he did what he never for a moment did throughout his life: he lost the flow. He stretched out his arms and received all the fear, self-doubt, morbid introspection and paralysis than an artist or dreamer could ever encounter (along with every other hindrance to the life God originally intended)! On the Roman instrument of torture, he met all the failure that we fear and let it run its full course in him. As he bore the pain of being a creative being separated from the CREATOR, he pioneered healing for every facet of the human temperament. He died so that we could live. He sunk so that we could defy gravity. He became one with our impotence to make us powerful and free creators. He died alone and surrounded by ugliness so that we could create beauty to share with all mankind—not just a sweet and soft-toned unobtrusive beauty, but the far more frightening beauty of an honest heart expressed through whatever method is at hand. He was distracted so that we could flow.
God created us to yearn for flow, and, we can find it. In our own strength, however, we will always strain to stay in the zone like a tightrope walker. We will carefully guard our lives from interruptions even to the point of becoming territorial in an effort to create a safe space for ourselves. In Jesus, however, we are not responsible for our own flow. His perfect flow calls out to us, making no demands. It beckons us like a panoramic view prepared only for our eyes. In His life, we find shelter from the storm of distractions that cause so many to sink. Moses prayed, “Lord, show me your glory,” and God hid him in the cleft of a rock and let all His goodness pass before him. God wants to hide us far away from human expectations and performance orientation. He wants to shelter us in the grace that only He can provide. There in the shadow of His wing, we can enjoy returning to Him the gifts He has given to us, with no fear. We can defy the distractions that cause us to sink and not just walk, but dance, on the waves of the Spirit.
