The Ground Beneath Us

Our boat cut across Lake Van this morning, headed for Akhtamar Island and the Monastery of the Holy Cross. Somewhere in the middle of that crossing, with water on every side, I found myself praying words written by a man who knew this lake far better than I ever will: St. Gregory of Narek.

St. Gregory lived his whole life at the monastery of Narekavank, on the southern shore of this same lake. He watched it for years — calm some days, violent on others. Slowly, the lake became a reflection of the human soul: capable of stillness, capable of storm, never entirely predictable.

Standing on the deck and watching the waves, his ancient prayer suddenly felt alive:

“Calm my stormy seas with Your tree of life, the Cross. For if Your mercy wills it, Lord, the fluid waves of the sea will become harder than stone.

But if You abandon me on dry land, Lord, the earth upon which I stand will move and crumble beneath me.”

We often believe we will find peace when everything becomes stable, when the illness passes, the disagreement ends, the financial problem is solved, or the future becomes clear. We keep waiting for firm ground.

But St. Gregory’s prayer turns our thinking upside down. Dry ground without God can crumble. Stormy waters, when Christ is with us, can become firm beneath our feet.

Peter discovered this when Jesus called him out of the boat. Jesus did not calm the sea first. He simply said, “Come” (Matthew 14:29). Peter stepped onto water that was still moving and still dangerous. His security was not beneath his feet. It was in the voice calling him forward.

That is what faith truly means: not the assurance that the waters will grow still, but the certainty that Christ will never leave us.

Perhaps the ground beneath you is moving today. The future may feel uncertain. Do not measure your safety by how calm life appears. Keep your eyes on Christ. Listen beyond the wind for His voice. Take the next faithful step, even when everything beneath you feels unstable.

Because our security does not come from what lies beneath us, but from the One who walks beside us.