It’s a new year and each time January brings a mixture of hope and anxiety. We have hopes for 2026, but we carry unresolved worries, unanswered questions, and fears that did not politely stay behind in 2025. The readings for today come at the right time.

In the Gospel, the disciples are doing exactly what Jesus told them to do. He sent them ahead in the boat. And yet obedience has not spared them fear. They are exhausted, battered by the relentless wind and just can’t make any headway – sound familiar? Then they are confronted with something they cannot interpret: Jesus walking toward them on the sea. This is way out of their comfort zone; they think it is a ghost and are terrified. We know those moments when we are out of our comfort zone and the unexpected initiates a fear response. Fear distorts perception. Like the apostles, when we are afraid, even the saving presence of God might be perceived as threatening. What is meant to help us can feel like something that will overwhelm us.

At the start of 2026, maybe our fears are not as dramatic as the apostles – maybe they are. Great or small, the fear, the uneasiness we might sense is real:

• fear of instability in the economy, the end-of-January potential shutdown of the government, inflation, and more;
• fear of illness, aging, or decline – those small aches and pains that no longer resolve themselves;
• fear of loneliness, being misunderstood, or left behind –  our friends moving, passing away, or in their decline, no longer recognize us.
• Fear that a loved one has reached the end of their earthly life.
• …name the fear that lurks in your life. We all have them.

Like the disciples, we are rowing hard and making little headway, and we wonder what’s next.

It is into these moments that Jesus speaks – then and now: “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.”

Those words, “It is I,” are not casual reassurance. In the Greek they echo the divine name — “I AM.” Jesus is not simply saying, “It’s okay.” He is saying, “God is here.” The One who comes toward them across the chaos is not a ghost, not an illusion, not a threat, but the living presence of God entering their fear. Notice that He does not shout instructions from a distance. He gets into the boat. And only then does the wind die down.

That is crucial for us. God does not usually remove our fears by eliminating all danger or uncertainty. He removes fear by sharing our vulnerability. Love steps into the boat. This is exactly what the Letter of John names so clearly: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear.”

Fear is sinful or a sign of weak faith. Love does mean never feeling afraid. Jesus tells us something more realistic and more hopeful: fear loses its power when we allow ourselves to be loved and when we choose to love in return. Think about it: fear makes us close us in on ourselves. We become defensive, cautious, and suspicious. Love does the opposite. Love opens us up and makes room for others. Love steps into the boat even when gale winds continue and the wave unrelenting. Love is what can make fear loosen its grip.

We don’t have to love perfectly or fearlessly. It is enough that we love faithfully. It is in the active decision to love that we become free and more easily live a life of patience, generosity, forgiveness, and hope. Our vision clears and we recognize Christ in our midst and in others.

Maybe a prayer for our mornings might be, “Lord, get in the boat with me. Still the storms or at least give me the courage to not need to control, but to love freely. Your presence is stronger than my fear.”

---

Christ stilling the storm on the Sea of Galilee | Ludolf Bakhuizen | 1695 | Indianapolis Museum of Art | PD