Pulling an Eddie

“I will tell you. Get up, and do something the Master tells you; so make
yourself his disciple at once.”

~George MacDonald

Scripture: Matthew 14:22–33

Certain sports figures have forever endeared themselves to us. One is
British ski jumper Eddie “the Eagle” Edwards, who competed in the 1988
Winter Olympics in Calgary and whose lunacy captured our hearts. Who can
forget the nationally televised interview in which he was asked what he
hoped to accomplish in the Olympic? Eddie replied, “As a ski jumper, I hope
to get from first to last as soon as I can! Uh, I mean . . .” (Edwards
actually finished 55th in a field of 56 jumpers. The 56th jumper was
disqualified.)

Millions of viewers watched with their hearts in their mouths as Eddie
careened down the 90-meter hill and windmilled into space. (I’m told that
Eddie’s birthday, December 5, is still celebrated in casualty departments
all over the world.) Eddie has his very own entry in the Oxford Book of Words and Phrases. Pulling an Eddie is defined as “doing something
extremely badly, and doing it in the most embarrassing manner possible.”

Nevertheless, Eddie went for it—that’s the important thing—and actually got
better, competing in later years with greater ability, which leads me to the
thought that doing extremely badly is one of the ways we grow. Ask
Peter, who once tried to walk on water.

Peter’s story is gospel, I believe, but also a parable about risk, failure,
and growing. The story, as Matthew tells it, takes place on the Sea of
Galilee one stormy night. The disciples were in their fishing boats, rowing
against a stiff wind, when Jesus walked by them—on the water!

Mark, in his parallel account, tells us that Jesus intended to “pass them
by,” using a verb that the Greek version of the Old Testament uses for a
theophany, an occasion when God revealed himself to certain men and women
and called them to a new level of accomplishment.

According to the story, the disciples were at first frightened, thinking
they were seeing an apparition. Then, when he was assured it was Jesus, Peter cried
out, “Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.”

Peter could have stayed in the boat, safe from wind and waves, but God had
placed in Peter, as He has placed in us, a hunger for high adventure. So
when Jesus called out to Peter, “Come!” Peter leaped out of the boat and
began to walk toward Jesus on the crests of the waves.

But when he realized what he was actually doing, Peter panicked and began
to sink. “Lord, save me,” he cried out. Immediately Jesus reached out, took
his hand, pulled him out of the water, and together they walked to the boat.

Did Peter do extremely badly? Indeed. Did he do it in the most embarrassing
manner possible? Absolutely. (Being men, the other disciples must have
razzed Peter to the end of his days.) But—and here’s the point—Peter walked
on water, the only disciple ever to do so—and he never forgot the feeling
or the hand that lifted him out of his failure and sustained him as he
walked again.

So, I ask you, what is God calling you to do this year? You may say, “I’m
just an ordinary person; my circumstances are restricted; my conditions are
commonplace. What can I do and how can I know what God wants me to do or to
be?”

He will let you know. It may be to follow your heart’s desire for deeper
intimacy with God and personal holiness. It may be to fulfill your longing
to teach a child or to share your faith with a neighbor. It may be to
inveigh against some sin in you that you can hardly stand to look at or to
think about—a perverse thing that has defeated you again and again. It may
be a godly choice that will result in cruel ridicule or an act so far
beyond you that it seems ridiculous to try. That drawing in your soul, that
dawning of hope, is the voice of God himself telling you to come. Get out of
your boat and walk—even if at first you don’t succeed. As a friend of mine
says, “If a thing is worth doing, it’s worth doing badly.”