“Then you can save me,” I said, thinking of the last time. The waves were slapping the hull with anger now, tipping us like a cork on a raging sea. “You can lead me.”

“But I am, Eden. I am.”

He drilled me with kind eyes, smiling mischievously, and it was only then that I noticed his hair. It was long and should be whipped about by the wind, but it wasn’t. In fact, the storm wasn’t having any effect on him.

“You’re wondering why I don’t feel the effects of the storm,” he said. “It’s because this is your storm. You see the threats and so they’re real.”

A larger wave slammed into the boat and sent me reeling. I grabbed the bench in front of me and hung on for dear life.

“Help me!” I cried, twisting round to see that the waves were growing larger by the minute. “Help me!”

“I am helping you,” he said.

I whipped around and faced him. “Stop the waves!”

His smile faded and he stared straight at me with such intensity and certainty that for a moment I thought he was angry. But only for a moment because when he spoke, there was only kindness in his voice.

“You stop them, Eden.”

“How?”

“I told you how last time.”

Panic crowded my throat and I searched my mind, but I couldn’t remember what it was that I was supposed to do.

“Tell me again!”

“Let go of the offense these waves cause you,” he said. “Forgive the water.”

“Forgive it? That’s impossible! Forgive it for what? There’s nothing to pardon!”

He unhooked his arms from the hull and stood, undaunted by the storm.

“I didn’t say pardon. I said forgive. When I say forgive, I mean to see no fault or offense in the troubled sea. Let go of even the thought that it threatens you or has offended you. See it as innocent. Offer it no blame or defense. Stand tall and offer it, instead, your other cheek, no longer offended.”

I didn’t see how that was possible. We were wasting time! I quickly scanned the horizon and saw only an endless stretch of bucking waves, all flowing toward the boat.

“Help me!” I cried again, now completely desperate.

“Look at me, Eden.”

I spun back to him and locked on to his eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me. Don’t look at the water. Can you do that?”

I was struck by my intense desire to check the waves again, just to make sure they hadn’t grown even more threatening. I had to protect myself from them, you see? I was terrified that a large wave would swamp the boat and leave me flailing in the water.

“Can you focus on me?” he cried above the wind.

“I am!”

“Your eyes are on me, and yet your mind is on the danger presented by the waves,” he said. “You still see threat on all sides. As long as you feel the need to protect yourself from that danger, you know that you haven’t let go of it. Forgive the sea and put your mind on my word. Hear me!”

“I am! Hurry!”

“I can’t hurry, Eden. Only you can. I’m not the one with the problem, you are. The problem will only go away when you decide to let go. There are very few people on this earth who know what it means to truly forgive and even fewer who walk the path of forgiveness. But the power of that forgiveness is staggering. And I do mean staggering.”

I saw that I was out of options, because he was intent on leading me to let go of whatever I had to let go of to survive.

“Then tell me how to do it!” I started to look away.

“Keep your eyes on me, Eden!”

I fixed my stare and tried to calm the trembling in my limbs.

“As long as you feel the need to defend yourself against that water, you see it as a threat.”

“That’s crazy!”

“Then your master was insane as well!”

“What master?”

“Jesus, the first water walker, of course. Why do you suppose he taught never to resist the evil man who comes against you? Why did he say we must turn the other cheek and love our enemies? Because he knew! Hear me, Eden and hear me well: Only in not defending are you ever truly safe. Every time you resist or defend against any perceived threat from the water, you give it power to fulfill that very perceived threat and it will crush you. But there’s another way!” His voice rose with intensity. “There’s a narrow way that few find but if anyone can find it, it’s you!”

“They’re right there!” I shoved my finger at the tumultuous waves. “Would you also suggest that I put my hand in a fire to prove it can’t burn me?”

“Touché!” He spread both hands and leaned forward. “Dead man walking; now you’re talking! Yes! There is a way not to be burned by the fire.” He jabbed his finger at the air to accentuate the word is. “There is a way to walk on water. There is a way to move a mountain. There is a way to part the sea. There is a way to be healed of any disease. There is a way to abide in perfect safety and love. And only one way!”

He was talking about Jesus and his miracles, a subject I was altogether too familiar with, though I couldn’t remember him walking in fire.

Dear God . . . how many nights had I spent in prayer, begging for him to make my way straight?

“I do believe!” I yelled. “I believe and look where that’s gotten me!”

“Ah yes, they believe what all devils believe. But they don’t trust. They have no faith! If you want to be saved from this troubled sea, you must surrender your mad belief in the danger it poses, and put your trust in that which truly keeps you safe instead. Forgive this world and all of its mad threats. Let go! See no harm in that which comes to destroy you because only your costume can be hurt. The real you is always safe in your Father’s arms. Always! You are his daughter!”

Spray from the waves was now soaking me, head to foot—I could hardly deny the reality of that water threatening to swamp the boat. But one thing he’d said blared through my mind.

Only in not defending are you ever truly safe.

Could it be? Something about those words struck a chord deep in my bones. His ideas suddenly seemed a little less absurd. For the first time, they tempted me with a kind of deep certainty that I hadn’t yet felt. I say tempted because I only saw a glimmer of truth and then only in a single thought:

What would it be like to not take any offense at what was done to me, ever? I would never be upset. Ever. What kind of power would such a person have? They couldn’t be hurt! They would be invulnerable, like their master.

Outlaw must have seen something on my face because he flashed a smile.

“Yes, you see, don’t you? Imagine the power you would have in this life, abiding in this truth alone.”

“But . . . how can you not take offense when someone hurts you?” I asked.

“Well, you have to change your thinking entirely, don’t you? Metanoia. Repentance, remember? A whole new operating system to transform the way you think and see the world. Being transformed by the renewing of your mind. And that takes faith, Eden. A complete letting go of what you think you know and trusting in what doesn’t necessarily make sense at first. Faith.”

His words arrested me. What if it was true? It seemed utterly careless and reckless, but what if he was right?

And suddenly I understood even more. These troubled waters around the boat were like the troubles I had with Mother. If I forgave her, she couldn’t hurt me. And by forgive, he meant seeing no offense . . .

A twinkle came to his eyes, as if he could read my thoughts.

“Ah, yes, now you are seeing. Forgive. See no fault, even as your Father sees no fault in you. Surrender to this knowledge and nothing can harm you. No storm, no misguided mother, not even a broken leg!”

The simplicity of his words fell into my mind like rays of light that quickened a dormant set of laws deep in my soul, patiently waiting to be brought back to life.