The close of Matt. 14 presents a scene in the life of our apostle on which we may dwell with profit for a few moments. It furnishes a very fine illustration of his own touching inquiry, “ Lord, to whom shall we go?”
Our Lord, having fed the multitude, and sent His disciples across the sea, retired into a mountain, to be alone in prayer. In this we have a striking foreshadowing of the present time. Jesus has gone on high. Israel is for the present set aside, but not forgotten. Days of trouble will come—rough seas and stormy skies will fall to the lot of the remnant; but their Messiah will return, and deliver them out of all their troubles. He will bring them to their desired haven, and all will be peace and joy for the Israel of God.
All this is fully unfolded on the page of prophecy, and is of the deepest interest to every lover of God and His word; but for the present we can merely dwell upon the inspired record concerning Simon Peter, and seek to learn the lesson which that record so forcibly teaches. “ And straightway Jesus constrained his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him unto the other side, while he sent the multitudes away. And when he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray; and when the evening was come, he was there alone. But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves, for the wind was contrary. And in the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear. But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid. And Peter answered him, and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water. And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water to go to Jesus. But when he saw the wind boisterous he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?”
This brief passage presents to our view in a very forcible way some of the leading features of Simon Peter’s character. His zeal, his energy, his real devotedness of heart, no one can for a moment call in question; but these very qualities—most charming as they surely are—led him not infrequently into a position of such prominence as to render his weak points all the more conspicuous. A man of less zeal, less energy, would have remained on board the ship, and thus avoided Peter’s failure and breakdown. Perhaps, too, men of cooler temperament would condemn as unwarrantable rashness Peter’s act in leaving the ship, or pronounce it a piece of forwardness which justly deserved a humiliating rebuff.
All this may be so; but we are free to confess the zeal, energy, and devotedness of this beloved servant of Christ, have far more powerful charms for the heart than the cool, calculating, self-considering spirit, which in order to avoid the shame and humiliation of a defeat, refuses to take a bold and decided step for Christ. True it is that Peter, in the interesting scene now before us, completely broke down; but why did he? Was it because he left the ship? No; but because he ceased to look in simple faith to Jesus. Here lay the root of his failure. Had he only kept his eye on the Master, he could have walked on the water, though ever so rough. Faith can walk on rough water as easily as on smooth. Nature cannot walk on either. It is not a question of the state of the water, but the state of the heart. Circumstances have nothing to do with faith, except, indeed, that, when difficult and trying, they develop its power and brightness. There was no reason whatever, in the judgment of faith, why Peter should have failed in his walk on the water. Faith looks not at the things that are seen and temporal, but at the things which are unseen and eternal. It endures as seeing Him who is invisible. “Faith is the evidence of things not seen.” It lifts the heart above the winds and waves of this rough world, and keeps it in perfect peace, to the praise of Him who is the Giver of faith, as of “every good and perfect gift.”
But our beloved apostle utterly failed in faith on the occasion now before us. He, as we, alas! so often do, took his eye off the Lord, and fixed it on his surroundings, and, as a consequence, he immediately began to sink. It must ever be so. We cannot get on for a single moment, save as we have the living God as a covering for our eyes. The grand motto for the life of faith is “Looking off unto Jesus.” It is this alone which enables us to “run the race set before us,” be the way rough or smooth. When Peter came down out of the ship, it was either Christ or drowning. He might well say at such a moment, “Lord, to whom shall I go?” Whither could he turn? When on board the ship, he had its timbers between him and death, but when on the water he had nothing but Jesus.
And was not He enough? Yes, verily, if only Peter could have trusted Him. This is the point. All things are possible to him that believeth. Storms are hushed into a perfect calm, rough seas become like glass, lofty mountains are leveled, when faith brings the power of God to bear. The greater the difficulties, the brighter the triumphs of faith. It is in the furnace that the real preciousness of faith is displayed. Faith has to do with God, and not with men or things. If we cease to lean on God, we have nothing but a wild, watery waste—a perfect chaos—around us, where nature’s resources must hopelessly fail.
All this was proved by Simon Peter when he came down out of the ship to walk on the water; and every child of God, and every servant of Christ, must prove it in his measure, for Peter’s history is full of great practical lessons for us all. If we want to walk above the circumstances of the scene through which we are passing—if we would rise superior to its influences—if we would be able to give an answer, clear, distinct, and decided, to the skepticism, the rationalism, and the infidelity of the day in which we live, then, assuredly, we must keep the eye of faith firmly fixed on “the Author and Perfecter of faith.” It is not by logical skill or intellectual power we shall ever meet the arguments of the infidel, but by a profound and abiding sense, a living and soul-satisfying apprehension, of the all-sufficiency of Christ—Himself—His work—His word—to meet our every need, our every exigence.
But it may be the reader feels disposed to condemn Peter for leaving the ship. He may think there was no need for his taking such a step. “Why not abide with his brethren on board the vessel? Was it not possible to be quite as devoted to Christ in the ship as on the water? And, further, did not the sequel prove that it would have been far better, and safer, and wiser, for Peter to remain where he was, than to venture forth on a course which he was not able to pursue?
To all this we reply that our apostle was evidently governed by an earnest desire to be nearer to his Lord. And this was right. He saw Jesus walking on the water, and he longed to be with Him. And, further, he had the direct authority of his Lord for leaving the ship. We fully and freely grant that, without this, it would have been a fatal mistake to leave his position; but the moment that word, “Come,” fell on his ear, he had a divine warrant for venturing forth upon the water—yea, to have remained would have been disobedience.
/bus it is in every case. We must have authority before we can act in anything. Without this, the greater our zeal, energy, and apparent devotedness, the more fatal will be our mistake, and the more mischief we shall do to ourselves, to others, and to the cause of Christ. It is of the very last possible importance in every case, but especially where there is a measure of zeal, earnestness, and energy, that there should be profound subjection to the authority of the word. If there be not this, there is no calculating the amount of mischief which may be done. If our devotedness flow not in the channel of simple obedience, if it rush over the embankments formed by the word of God, the consequences must be most disastrous.
But there is another thing which stands next in importance to the authority of the divine word, and that is the abiding realization of the divine presence. These two things must never be separated, if we want to walk on the water. We may be quite clear and settled in our own minds, having distinct authority for any given line of action; but if we have not, with equal distinctness, the sense of the Lord’s presence with us—if our eyes are not continually on the living God, we shall most assuredly break down.
This is very serious, and demands the gravest consideration of the christian reader. It was precisely here that Peter failed. He did not fail in obedience, but in realized dependence. He acted on the word of Jesus in leaving the ship, but he failed to lean on the arm of Jesus in walking on the water. Hence his terror and confusion. Mere authority is not enough, we want power. To act without authority is wrong. To act without power is impossible. The authority for starting is the word. The power to proceed is the divine presence. The combination of the two must ever yield a successful career. It matters not, in the smallest degree, what the difficulties are, if we have the stable authority of holy scripture for our course, and the blessed support of the presence of God in pursuing it. When God speaks, we must obey; but in order to do so, we must lean on His arm. “Have not I commanded you?” “Lo, I am with you.”
Here are the two things so absolutely essential to every child of God and every servant of Christ. Without these we can do nothing; with them we can do all things. If we have not a “Thus saith the Lord,” or “It is written,” we cannot enter upon a path of devotedness; and if we have not His realized presence, we cannot pursue it. It is quite possible to be right in setting out, and yet to fail in going on.
It was so in the case of Simon Peter, and it has been so in the case of thousands since. It is one thing to make a good start, and another thing to make good progress. It is one thing to leave the ship, and another thing to walk on the water. Peter did the former, but he failed in the latter. This beloved servant broke down in his course; but where did he find himself? In the arms of a loving Savior. “Lord, save me!” How touching! How deeply affecting! He casts himself upon a well-known love—a love which was yet to meet him in far more humiliating circumstances. Nor was he disappointed. Ah! no; blessed be God, no poor failing creature can ever appeal to that love in vain. “And immediately Jesus stretched forth His hand, and caught him, and said unto him, Ο thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?” Exquisite grace! If Peter failed to reach his Lord, his Lord did not fail to reach him. If Peter failed in faith, Jesus could not fail in grace. Impossible. The grace of our Lord Jesus is exceeding abundant. He takes occasion from our very failures to display His rich and precious love. Oh, how blessed to have to do with such a tender, patient, loving Lord! Who would not trust Him, and praise Him, love Him, and serve Him?