Its Time to Walk on Water
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It was His life mission. He could have healed more people if He had not died at He could have preached, taught, and converted many more people if He had delayed the cross five or 10 years. Those are all good things, but they were not his purpose. Jesus maintained a single focus: the cross. He would not be distracted by the obvious problems, Pharisees, Scribes, and opposition. Nor would he be deterred by subtle issues, healing, teaching, and preaching.
We must never allow the problems of this word to distract us from the source of our power. We must also be careful to not become so busy that we stray from the purpose Christ has for our lives.
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When Peter got into the boat, the disciples worshiped Jesus. We get the feeling that this worship of Him was different. Amazingly this is not a first-time event for the disciples.
Earlier in Matthew chapter 8, the disciples are in the boat when a storm comes up. So bad is the storm that they think they will die. Sound familiar? Only instead of walking on the water, Jesus is asleep in the boat. The disciples wake Jesus, and He speaks to the winds and the waves and the storm calms. The disciples look at one another and say, "What kind of man is this? Now they say that Jesus is the Son of God. How did they get from "What kind of man is this?
Something about the whole experience opened their eyes to the power and ability of Jesus.
Before this encounter Jesus was just an amazing man, but now the disciples saw Him as the Messiah and Son of God. So how can we see Jesus for who He really is? How can we move from seeing Jesus as just a great man, to the only one who can change our lives? We must spend time with Him.
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He hadn't expected her to leave Smee with a concussion, or Mullins with a black eye, or Starkey with a stab wound to the thigh. He wondered what she was doing in his quarters. Looking through his things most likely, searching for a weapon to take his head off with the next time he dared pass through the doorway.
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All he knew for certain was that the Evil Queen wanted this woman, which made it his duty to keep Emma out of her hands. When he'd learned of her journey and of the queen's plans to snatch her from one of his contacts in the palace, it had taken precious little thought to arrive at the dastardly plot to simply get the princess first. Which left him with a choice: to hold onto her until he found out, in case he might be able to foil the queen's plans even further; or turn south and return the princess safe and sound to her own kingdom and hope that her father wouldn't have him put to death for the courtesy.
If his brother were still alive, he was certain he'd have earned himself a firm smack upside the head today. At the thought of Liam, his grip tightened on the wheel. He still missed his brother dearly. He kept expecting some of the pain to diminish, for the memory of watching his brother die to stop haunting him. But if anything, it had only grown more vivid.
He sensed Liam's absence as a gnawing ache in his heart that refused abate. He could barely remember not feeling this way, his heady few years as his brother's trusted lieutenant in the Queen's Navy more like a story he'd heard rather than a life he'd lived. Whatever that meant for Princess Emma, he'd figure out soon enough. For now, he changed course to head southeast, giving himself time to think while also making progress back toward Emma's home.
For most of the night, he remained on deck, tending to the ship and watching the waves.
The moon made a wide arc through the sky before dipping into the sea just before dawn. He trusted them as much as he could anyone. He dropped down the familiar ladder in the pre-dawn murk, finding his way by muscle memory more than sight and discovered the princess in his bed.
Wind & Waves
However, his pleasure immediately vanished when she sat up, bolting straight from complete unconsciousness to battle-ready in the blink of an eye, and lunged at him. He didn't see what she had in her hand until she was almost on top of him, swinging it like a deadly, golden scythe — his brother's sextant, the one which had led them to Neverland, to dreamshade, and to death. Killian fell back against the ladder, just out of Emma's reach, and the sextant narrowly missed his face.
He managed to catch both her arms and used his grip to shake the sextant loose. It landed with a heavy thud on the floor. But I fight fair. He tugged her closer, tucking her hands and forearms tight against his chest, very aware that his heart was racing and that she could probably feel it. She glared and tried to knee him between the legs. There's nowhere for you to run. What good do you think this will do you? The back of her thighs hit the table with a thud, and her jaw worked back and forth as she stared up at him. Though that may change now that I realize what a sweet prize you are.
Once, he'd been more. A man of honor.
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A man with a code. But not anymore. He'd had to become one of them to survive, to follow through on his quest to see the queen overthrown and his brother avenged. It didn't mean he liked what he'd become. But he'd come to accept it. She huffed, her exasperation positively adorable. I just attacked you. I could do it again. He almost didn't care whether she tried to beat his brains out with the sextant again so long as she let him bury his face in the pillow for a while first.
Killian pulled a loose blanket up over his hips and settled in, the sound of Emma moving about his quarters easily blending into the shuffling of the crew up above. It was a comforting cadence, and he swiftly fell asleep.
From across the room, Emma watched the pirate captain doze. At first she thought that he was testing her, pretending to sleep, waiting to see what she would do. But soon his breathing evened out, his whole body relaxed.