A lectionary meditation for our nineteenth week of Ordinary Time in 2026

Today I read that Jesus finally gets away into silence and solitude. This week’s gospel reading picks up the story from where we ended last Sunday. The thousands were full of bread and fish after Jesus spoke and then were sent home. Jesus wasted no time sending His disciples on ahead. While He was still dismissing the crowds, He placed the disciples in a boat and told them to sail to the far side of the sea. Finally, Jesus finds Himself back where He wanted to be at the beginning of last week’s reading. He was facing the mountain and the wilderness. I read, “after He had dismissed the crowds, He went up the mountain by Himself.” I can almost feel in my own chest His first deep breath and the sigh that followed.

It can be difficult to make silence and seek solitude.  Life has a way of getting in the way. My love for others has a way of drawing me away from my plans. I often need to remind myself that I need silence and solitude. They help me live and love. I need rhythms into and out of solitude and silence. Then, when interruptions happen, I have a chance to respond like Jesus did. I know that God is always waiting to meet with me. He will hear my cries, my hopes, and my fears. He speaks when I make the silence to hear His voice. So, Jesus sent those traveling with Him across the lake, and He was finally alone.

The disciples were struggling in their boat. The winds had turned against their journey, and the waters had become angry. If I’m honest, one of the reasons I struggle to make silence and seek out solitude is that the demands of life do not stop coming. My mind knows this. My body knows this. I know that if I take minutes, hours, or days to step away, the waves of life, work, and stress will keep building and swelling in my absence. This is true. There is no divine, spiritual, or magic way to pause my life. Everyone keeps on living, deadlines come closer, and new situations arise. My life is a testament to this.

And yet! Jesus has overcome the world! In the midst of the disciples distress, Jesus was already on His way. The storm brought fear that gripped their hearts. When they see Jesus walking on the water, their fear grows into terror. They had, just hours earlier, participated in the miracle of the loaves and fishes. Now they were terrified. Modern cinema has me questioning the wisdom of yelling at a ghost – saying, “It’s a ghost!” If it is a ghost, the ghost already knows, and now also knows your fear. Nevertheless, this is what happens. In this moment, Jesus responds to them, “Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid.”

This line cuts to the heart of me. It makes me wonder where else people were afraid in scripture while God is nearby. One passage that quickly comes to mind is in the second creation narrative. Here we have this moment where Adam and Eve had eaten from the forbidden tree, clothed themselves, and were hiding from God (Genesis 3). They were also gripped by terror. God surely knew exactly where they were hiding, but He cried out for them, “Where are you?!?!” I imagine the voice of God cracking here in the way that heartbreak causes steady voices to falter.

Now, I imagine Jesus of this moment walking through the garden. Adam and Eve have taken to hiding. “Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid.” This is how God met me in the darkness of my depression and despair. There is a kindness and love as Jesus meets us. The gospel story continues. Peter asks Jesus to command him to join Jesus on the water. Jesus tells Peter to come to Him. For a moment, the invitation of God quelled the terror of Peter’s heart. As the waters raged around Peter, he walked over the water towards Jesus. Then terror overtook his heart again, and he began to sink.

Even as Peter was sliding into the depths towards his death, our God was there. He cried out, “Lord, save me!” I’ve cried this same prayer many times before. Sometimes with words, and far more often from my soul when my mind has already sunk beneath turbulent waters. Just like Peter, doubt overcomes my faith. I want to be a strong tower whose faith doesn’t falter, but mine does. It falters a lot. It feels fickle because my faith in God is held in my hands. My faith is held by my weakness. So I cry out to the Lord to save me. God, come to my assistance. Lord, make haste to help me. And I am so grateful that our God is faithfulness. Even on that day when my breath finally fails, my eyes will open once more to see the face of Jesus. For Christ will have raised me from death to life one last time.

This is good news. We get to live and proclaim this good news. The love of God is faithful even when we struggle and falter. God will catch us. No matter how far we feel like we’ve slipped into the depths, Jesus can still save us. This reality transforms me, works in me, and goes out into the world through me. So I take time to be with Jesus. I make silence and seek solitude. Here, I can simply be with the One who knows my soul, my name, and my weakness. I get to be with the God who loves me and is my strength. Finally, I can sit down to make silence and solitude.

May our God strengthen your faith when it’s weakened by doubt.

Readings for the 19^th Sunday of Ordinary Time · Year A

Sunday readings according to the Revised Common Lectionary.

Photo Credit
Paul Prins on 9 April 2026 in Pontevedra, Spain