When reading the accounts of Jesus' disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee, as recorded by Matthew and John, it requires but little imagination to picture vividly that struggle in the dark against the tempestuous wind and waves, and the joy which must have come with the happy ending of the experience. Few narratives that are so briefly told give such a complete story of the struggle of mortals and of ultimate victory over material sense; and perhaps none point the way for us more simply, or hold out greater promise of reward.
Like the disciples, most of us have known times when our way appeared to lie across the tempest-tossed sea of so-called mortal mind, our understanding seeming indeed a frail little craft to stand up against the buffeting winds of error and carry us safely through the night to our journey's end. At such times we were prone to look at the black, raging, swirling waters; then—filled with fear—to spend our efforts in trying to pull through the storm rather than to rise above it.
So it was nearly nineteen hundred years ago, when that little company of men were toiling at their oars in the night endeavoring to overcome matter with matter, pitting their strength against that of the wind and waves, forgetting—or not understanding— that their heavenly Father, divine Love, was close at hand, an ever present help.