The Forth Watch

There's something deeply uncomfortable about honesty in Christian circles. We've been conditioned by a culture of perpetual positivity—what some call "the brighter side of Christianity"—where we smile through our pain, hide our struggles, and pretend everything is fine when someone asks how we're doing. We walk through church doors carrying burdens we're too ashamed to name, convinced that our difficulties somehow disqualify us from God's presence.

But what if the darkness you're experiencing right now isn't evidence of God's absence? What if, instead, it's the very place where He's most actively at work?

The Storm That Reveals Our Reality
In Matthew 14:22-33, we encounter a familiar scene: disciples in a boat, caught in a storm, struggling against wind and waves in the middle of the night. This wasn't their first storm—they'd been through this before with Jesus sleeping peacefully in the boat. But this time felt different. This time, Jesus wasn't with them. Or so they thought.

The darkness that surrounded those disciples represents more than just the absence of light. Throughout Scripture, darkness symbolizes confusion, chaos, evil, sin, and falsehood. It's the place where certainty fades and assurance crumbles. In John 3, we're told that people choose darkness over light—not because darkness is appealing, but because it hides what we don't want exposed.

Sin doesn't just bind us; it shrouds us in hopelessness, shame, pain, and bitterness. It becomes a thick fog that obscures our vision, making it impossible to see Christ even when He's right there in the middle of our storm.

What darkness is blocking your vision today? What sin, what struggle, what shame is making it hard for you to see Jesus in your circumstances?

The Fourth Watch: When Dawn Breaks Through
The "fourth watch" was the final segment of the night in the Greco-Roman world—that twilight hour between 3 and 6 a.m. when darkness still dominates but dawn is approaching. It's that strange in-between time when you can begin to make out familiar shapes, but shadows still play tricks on your eyes.

This is precisely when Jesus came walking on the water.

He didn't show up at the beginning of the storm. He didn't prevent the struggle. He came in the fourth watch—in that darkest hour before dawn, when the disciples had been battling waves for hours, when their strength was depleted, when hope seemed distant.

And here's what's remarkable: when Jesus finally appeared, walking on water and breaking through the darkness with light, they didn't recognize Him. They thought He was a ghost.

The Problem Isn't Vision—It's Faith
How could they not recognize Him? This was the same Jesus who had just fed 5,000 families. The same Jesus who had performed countless miracles. Yet in their fear and exhaustion, they couldn't see who He really was.

The issue wasn't their eyesight—it was their faith. Our faith in Christ tends to fluctuate based on our circumstances. When life is manageable, our faith feels strong. When the storm intensifies, our faith weakens. We see Jesus clearly in some areas of our lives but doubt His presence in others.

Why is that? Do we really believe God can handle certain situations but not others? Do we think He's capable in some areas but needs us to manage the rest?

The truth is, we often have a diminished view of God's power. We struggle to believe that Jesus can show up in real life, in real time, and in real pain. So when He does appear, we attribute His work to coincidence, our own intelligence, or anything else but Him.

Even John the Baptist, sitting in prison and facing death, sent messengers to Jesus asking, "Are you the one, or should we expect someone else?" The circumstances didn't match his expectations, so doubt crept in.

Jesus in the Middle of It All
But here's the beautiful truth that changes everything: just because we can't see Jesus doesn't mean He can't see us.

While the disciples were struggling in the boat, Jesus was on the mountain praying—likely praying for them. He wasn't distant or disinterested. He was interceding, watching, waiting for the right moment. And when that moment came, He didn't call to them from the shore. He walked out into the storm to meet them.

This is who Jesus has always been. He's never on the sidelines. In the book of Daniel, when three Hebrew men were thrown into a fiery furnace, Jesus didn't save them from outside the flames—He was in the fire with them. When God dwelled among Israel, He didn't observe from heaven—He made His home in the tabernacle, right in the middle of their camp.

Jesus enters our darkness, our storms, our pain. He confronts our sin and shame not from a safe distance but from within the chaos itself.

The Credibility That Builds Faith
When Peter stepped out of the boat and began walking on water, it wasn't because of his great faith or courage. Peter didn't fully understand who Jesus was or why he could trust Him. What Peter experienced was the supernatural power of Jesus making the impossible possible.

This is crucial: our faith isn't credible because we believe really hard. Our faith is credible because the object of our faith—Jesus Christ—is reliable. His historical life, His sacrificial death, and His powerful resurrection make His claims trustworthy. Unlike other religious figures, Jesus didn't just teach a philosophy; He conquered death itself.

We all have "boats" we trust in—family, money, intelligence, even religious activity. But when the storm comes, these boats will sink. The only question that matters is: Is what you're trusting in credible?

When We Start to Sink
Peter walked on water until he took his eyes off Jesus and focused on the wind. Then he began to sink. But notice what happened next: Jesus didn't let him drown. The same power that enabled Peter to walk on water was the same power that saved him when he faltered.

This is the hope we cling to. When we stumble, when we doubt, when we take our eyes off Jesus, He doesn't turn away. Our sin and unfaithfulness never cause Jesus to stop looking at us. What we do doesn't change how Jesus acts.

He's got you. And unlike Superman catching Lois Lane and hearing her ask, "But who's got you?"—Jesus doesn't need anyone to hold Him up. He's fully capable of bearing the weight of our storms, our sins, and our doubts.

Worship in the Aftermath
When Jesus got into the boat and the storm ceased, the disciples worshiped Him, declaring, "Truly you are the Son of God." They recognized His divinity not just because He came through for them, but because of who He revealed Himself to be.

But here's the challenge: Jesus doesn't promise to remove every storm. He doesn't guarantee that every prayer will be answered the way we want. Sometimes He calms the storm; sometimes He lets it rage while strengthening us to endure it.

The Hebrew boys in Daniel 3 said it best: "We believe God will deliver us from the fire. But even if He doesn't, we still won't bow down to your idols." They worshiped God not because of what He did, but because of who He is—sovereign, good, and worthy, regardless of their circumstances.

The God Who Fights in Secret
Even when it feels like God isn't there, He's on the job. In the book of Numbers, there's a fascinating story about a prophet named Balaam who was hired to curse Israel. God fought for His people behind the scenes, and they never even knew the battle was happening. He was protecting them, defending them, working on their behalf in ways they couldn't see.

That's what Jesus does. He's in the middle of it all—redeeming, loving, interceding, pursuing, fighting—even when we're completely unaware.

This year may have been brutal. You may have experienced loss, sickness, failure, or pain that made you question everything. You may have wondered where Jesus was in all of it. But the fourth watch is coming. Dawn is breaking. And Jesus is already walking toward you through the storm, ready to reveal that He's been there all along.