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The applause was real. The sinking was also real. Peter's story is your story. |
There is a particular kind of loneliness that nobody warns you about when you begin to grow in your Christian walk. It is not the loneliness of obscurity. It is not the loneliness of being unknown or unrecognised or overlooked. It is far more disorienting than that.
It
is the loneliness of standing in a crowd that is applauding you, hearing your
name spoken with admiration, watching people look to you as an example, while
something deep inside you is quietly, steadily, desperately sinking.
You
smile. You preach. You pray. You counsel. You lead. And all the while,
something is happening beneath the surface that nobody in the room can see. And
the more they applaud, the harder it becomes to say: I am not okay. I am
sinking. Someone please help me.
The Bible has a story for exactly this moment. And the man at the centre of it is Peter.
The Scene: Peter at His Peak
Matthew
14 opens with a sequence of events that places the disciples, and Peter in
particular, at what can only be described as the highest point of spiritual
manifestation they had yet experienced. They had just witnessed Jesus feed five
thousand men, plus women and children, with five loaves of bread and two fish.
The miracle was so overwhelming that twelve baskets of fragments were left over
after everyone had eaten their fill. These men had not just heard about the
power of God. They had served it to a crowd with their own hands.
Immediately
after this, Jesus sends the disciples ahead in a boat while He dismisses the
crowd and goes up a mountain to pray alone. By the time the fourth watch of the
night comes, which is somewhere between three and six in the morning, the
disciples are in the middle of the sea, being tossed by waves and fighting
against a contrary wind.
And
then Jesus comes to them. Walking on the water.
"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 ghost; and they cried out for fear. But straightway Jesus spake unto them,
saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid."
— Matthew 14:25-27 (KJV)
And
then Peter does something that no other person in that boat does. He asks to
come.
"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." — Matthew
14:28-29 (KJV)
Stop
here for a moment and feel the weight of what is happening. Peter is walking on
water. Not Jesus. Peter. A fisherman from Galilee, a man with calloused hands
and a loud mouth, is standing on the surface of a wind-tossed sea and moving
toward Jesus. Every other disciple is still sitting in the boat watching this
happen.
Now
think about what that looks like from the boat. Think about what the other
eleven disciples are seeing. Think about what they are saying to each other. Think
about the expression on their faces. Peter, the same Peter who argued and
interrupted and got things wrong as often as he got them right, is walking on
water. In the middle of the night. In the middle of a storm. Toward Jesus.
If
there was ever a moment in Peter's life when the applause was deafening, even
if only in the whispers of his fellow disciples behind him, this was it. This
was Peter's peak. His greatest moment of spiritual manifestation. The kind of
moment that becomes a testimony. The kind of moment people point to and say:
that is what faith looks like. That is what a man of God looks like.
 |
Peter was walking on water. For a brief, glorious moment, he was doing what no other human being had ever done. |
The Sinking: What Happened at the Peak
And
then, in the very next verse, everything changes.
"But
when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he
cried, saying, Lord, save me." — Matthew 14:30 (KJV)
He
began to sink. Not before he stepped out. Not at the beginning of the journey.
At the peak of it. While he was walking. While the miracle was happening. While
the other disciples were watching from the boat with wide eyes.
He
took his eyes off Jesus and looked at the wind. And fear entered. And the water
that had been holding him up under the power of his focused faith began to give
way under the weight of his distracted fear.
Now
here is the question that cuts to the heart of this post. In that moment, what
was the most tempting thing for Peter to do?
Think
about it from a human perspective. You are the man walking on water. Everyone
is watching. Your reputation is at its highest point. You are the only person
in history, other than Jesus Himself, who has done this. And now you are
sinking. What does pride tell you to do?
It
tells you to keep walking. It tells you to act like nothing is happening. It
tells you to manage the situation quietly, to try to find your footing again
before anyone notices. It tells you that a man of God cannot be seen sinking. It
tells you that your reputation cannot survive the admission that you are in
trouble. It tells you: what will people say? What will they think of you? How
will they look at you after this? How can you lead people if they know you
almost drowned?
Pride, in that moment, would have killed Peter. Because a man who is sinking and pretending to walk is a drowning man with a performance mask on. And the sea does not care about your reputation. It will take you down regardless of what the people in the boat think of you.
The most dangerous place a believer can be is publicly celebrated while privately sinking, and too proud to say so.
What Peter Did That Every Drowning Believer Must Learn
Peter
did not pretend. That is the lesson. As simple and as profound as that.
In
the very moment of his greatest public manifestation, at the absolute peak of
what his faith had produced, in front of every disciple who had ever questioned
him or looked to him as a leader, Peter opened his mouth and cried out three words:
Lord, save me.
Not:
give me a moment, I can handle this. Not: everyone look away, I am fine. Not: I
will manage this privately and tell you about it later when I have already
overcome. Just: Lord, save me. Right now. In front of everyone. Immediately.
Urgently. Without shame.
And
the response of Jesus is one of the most tender and instructive moments in all
of the gospels:
"And
immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him,
O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"
— Matthew 14:31 (KJV)
Immediately.
Jesus did not wait for Peter to sort himself out. He did not say: you got
yourself into this, you get yourself out. He did not allow the sinking to continue
as a lesson in consequence. He stretched forth His hand immediately and caught
him.
The
rebuke, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt, is real and
it matters. Peter's fear and distraction were genuine failures and Jesus does
not pretend otherwise. But the rebuke comes after the rescue, not instead of
it. Jesus corrects Peter's faith while holding Peter's hand. That is the
character of the God we are dealing with.
And now here is the application that every minister, every leader, every believer who has ever been applauded while sinking needs to hear clearly and directly.
The Modern Peter: Applauded and Sinking
The
church today is full of Peters. Men and women who are walking on water
publicly. Preaching powerfully. Leading effectively. Producing visible fruit.
Receiving the admiration of their congregations, their followers, their friends
and their families. People whose names are spoken with reverence and whose
gifts are celebrated widely.
And
some of them are sinking.
Not
all of them. Not most of them. But some. And the ones who are sinking are, in
many cases, the last ones anyone would suspect. Because the applause is loudest
for the ones who have learned to keep walking even while they are going under.
What
does modern sinking look like? It looks different for different people. For
some it is a secret sin that crept back in after years of freedom. For some it
is a private bitterness or unforgiviness that has been feeding quietly in the
dark. For some it is pride and a love of the applause itself that has slowly
displaced genuine love for God as the motivation for ministry. For some it is
doubt, deep corrosive doubt about the very faith they are proclaiming publicly.
For some it is moral failure, sexual sin, financial dishonesty or hidden addiction.
The
common thread is not the nature of the sinking. The common thread is the
silence about it. The performance that continues on the surface while the going
under happens beneath.
A Personal Word: The Battle I Did Not Want to Admit
I am
going to tell you something that I could choose not to tell you. Something that
most people in ministry never speak about publicly. I am going to tell you
because Peter did not pretend, and neither will I. And because the person
reading this who is in the same battle needs to know that the man writing these
words has been in that water too.
Before
I gave my life to Jesus Christ in 2013, I had struggled deeply with
masturbation and pornography. These were not casual habits. They were chains.
And when I surrendered my life to Jesus on that Friday night, I knew I was
leaving them behind. I counted the cost. I made the decision. And for a season,
the freedom was real and the victory was genuine.
But
then something happened. The habits began to return. Quietly at first. Almost
imperceptibly. And by the time I was fully aware of what was happening, I was
already in the middle of it again, sinking, while the water of grace that had
been holding me up began to give way beneath my feet.
And
here is where Peter's story became my story. Because by this time I was already
active in church. I was coordinating, moderating, leading in various
capacities. People looked at me with respect. People were being helped by my
participation in ministry. And the thought of walking to my pastor and saying:
I am struggling with pornography and masturbation, felt like social suicide.
What would he think? What if he removed me from my positions? What would it say
about my testimony? What would people say if they found out?
That
is the voice of pride in a sinking man. It sounds like wisdom. It sounds like
discretion. It sounds like protecting the ministry. But it is just pride
dressing itself up in responsible clothing. And it will let you drown rather
than let you be seen struggling.
A
point came when I summoned courage. I went to my pastor. I sat down and I said
what needed to be said. I exposed what was happening. I asked for prayer. I
asked for counsel. And God, through that act of humble and costly honesty,
began the work of genuine restoration.
I am
not telling you this to make a spectacle of my past. I am telling you this
because somewhere in the audience reading these words right now is a believer,
maybe even a minister, who is in that exact water. Who is sinking while the
applause plays. Who has convinced themselves that their position, their
reputation or their image is too important to risk the honesty that Peter
demonstrated on that stormy Galilean night.
Peter cried out. You must too.
What Crying Out Looks Like Practically
Crying
out to Jesus is not always a dramatic prayer on the surface of a storm-tossed
sea. In the practical reality of the Christian life, it takes several forms and
all of them require the same thing Peter demonstrated: the willingness to be
seen struggling rather than the pride of pretending to walk.
Cry Out
in Prayer
The
most immediate and always available form of crying out is prayer. Not the
polished, public, ministry-voice prayer that you offer from a platform. The
raw, private, desperate, nothing-to-lose prayer of a person who knows they are
going under and needs help right now. David modelled this throughout the
Psalms, a man after God's own heart who was also capable of spectacular moral
failure, and who never stopped bringing his real condition before God without
performance or pretence.
Psalm
130:1 captures the posture: Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O
LORD. Not from the platform. Not from the position of strength and
visibility. From the depths. Where you actually are.
Cry Out
Through Confession to a Trusted Person
This
is the hardest form of crying out for most believers and especially for those
in visible ministry. And it is precisely the one the Bible most explicitly
commends.
"Confess
your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed.
The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much."
— James 5:16 (KJV)
Confess
your faults one to another. This is not a suggestion. It is not a spiritual
ideal for the especially humble. It is a direct apostolic instruction. And the
promised outcome is specific: that ye may be healed. Not shamed. Not
disqualified. Not exposed for destruction. Healed.
The
context of James 5:16 is significant. It follows immediately from verses 14 and
15 which address calling for the elders of the church for prayer and anointing
when someone is sick. The structure of the passage connects physical, emotional
and spiritual restoration to the same practice: humble, honest exposure before
people who can pray with you and for you.
The
person you confess to matters enormously. It should be someone spiritually
mature, someone with genuine pastoral wisdom, someone who understands grace
without minimising holiness and someone bound by discretion. A pastor. A
trusted elder. A mature accountability partner. Not a gossip. Not someone whose
response will be condemnation rather than restoration.
But
the principle is non-negotiable. Sin that is kept in darkness grows in
darkness. Sin that is brought into the light, confessed honestly before God and
before a trusted person, loses the power that secrecy gave it.
Cry Out
by Seeking Godly Counsel
There
is a particular pride in the believer who says: I will sort this out between me
and God. No one else needs to know. While the impulse toward private repentance
is not wrong in itself, when a pattern of sin or spiritual struggle has taken
root over time, the idea that private prayer alone will resolve it often
becomes another way of staying in the dark while appearing to handle things
responsibly.
Proverbs 11:14 says: In the multitude of counsellors there is safety. God built the church as a community precisely because He knew that the individual believer was never designed to carry everything alone. The person in visible ministry who believes their position exempts them from needing counsel is not a strong leader. They are a proud one. And pride, as the Scripture consistently shows, is the fastest route from walking on water to going under it.
The Pride That Keeps People Sinking
Let
us name the enemy in this story directly. It is pride. Not the obvious boastful
pride of someone who openly declares their superiority. The subtle,
respectable, ministry-shaped pride that says: I cannot be seen struggling. I
cannot let people know I am failing. I cannot risk what they will think of me.
My usefulness to God depends on my image remaining intact.
Proverbs
16:18 is one of the most quoted verses in the Bible and one of the least
personally applied:
"Pride
goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."
— Proverbs 16:18 (KJV)
Pride
goes before destruction. Not after. Before. The sinking almost always begins
before anyone can see it. The destruction that people witness publicly was
preceded by a private pride that refused to cry out when the sinking started.
The
minister who falls spectacularly and publicly in a way that devastates a
congregation and destroys a testimony almost never fell suddenly. They sank
slowly, quietly, over months or years, while the applause continued and the
pride that fed on that applause refused to let them say: I need help. I am not
okay. Something is happening to me beneath this surface.
Peter's
greatness in Matthew 14 is not that he walked on water. Plenty of people have
done extraordinary things for God. Peter's greatness is that when he started
sinking while doing something extraordinary, he cried out immediately. Without
calculation. Without image management. Without waiting to see if he could sort
it out on his own first.
That immediate, unashamed cry for help is what made the difference between drowning and being caught by the hand of Jesus.
A Christian Can Make a Mistake. And That Is Not the End.
There
is something else in this story that needs to be said clearly, especially to
the believer who has already started sinking and has been carrying the
additional weight of shame about it.
Peter
was walking on water. He was doing something miraculous. Something that
genuine, Spirit-empowered faith had produced. And he still sank. Not because he
was a fraud. Not because his earlier faith was fake. But because in a moment of
genuine manifestation, he allowed fear and distraction to pull his focus from
Jesus to the wind.
A
Christian can make a mistake. A genuine, born-again, Spirit-filled, actively
serving believer can find themselves in a place they never intended to be. Can
find old habits returning. Can find fear replacing faith. Can find the wind
more real than the Word. This does not automatically mean they were never
saved. It does not automatically mean they are beyond recovery. It means they
are human and they need Jesus.
The
question is not whether you have started sinking. The question is whether,
having started sinking, you will cry out or pretend.
1
John 1:9 is not written for unbelievers. It is written for believers who have
stumbled:
"If
we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to
cleanse us from all unrighteousness." — 1 John 1:9
(KJV)
If
we confess. The condition is confession. Not performance. Not a period of
self-punishment to prove we are sufficiently sorry. Not a season of reduced
ministry activity as penance. Confession. Honest, direct, nothing-hidden
acknowledgement of what is happening. And the response of God to that
confession is immediate, faithful and just: forgiveness and cleansing from all
unrighteousness.
All unrighteousness. Not some. Not the minor stuff. All of it. The same hand that Jesus stretched out immediately when Peter cried out is stretched out over you right now. The same voice that said O thou of little faith is not saying it with contempt. It is saying it with the voice of someone who has already reached for you before the words were fully out of your mouth.
The Boat After the Storm
Matthew
14 does not end with Peter wet and embarrassed on the surface of the sea. It
ends with Peter and Jesus getting into the boat together. And when they get
into the boat, the wind ceases. And then comes one of the most remarkable
moments in the entire gospel:
"Then
they that were in the ship came and worshipped him, saying, Of a truth thou art
the Son of God." — Matthew 14:33 (KJV)
The
disciples worshipped. Not despite what happened to Peter. In response to what
happened to Peter. The sinking and the rescue, the cry and the catching, the
honesty and the immediate response of Jesus, all of it together produced worship
in the people who witnessed it.
Your
sinking is not the end of your testimony. Your cry for help is not the
destruction of your ministry. Peter, the man who sank while walking on water,
is the same Peter who preached at Pentecost and saw three thousand people saved
in a single day. The same Peter who wrote two epistles that have shaped
Christian theology for two thousand years. The same Peter who, according to
church history, died for his faith with such conviction that he requested to be
crucified upside down because he did not consider himself worthy to die in the
same manner as his Lord.
Peter's story did not end at the sinking. And yours does not have to either.
A Direct Word to the Person Who Is Sinking Right Now
You
know who you are. You are reading this and something in your chest has been
tightening since the second paragraph. Because this is your story. The applause
is real. The sinking is also real. And you have been carrying both
simultaneously for longer than you care to admit.
Maybe
it is pornography. Maybe it is a secret relationship that should not exist.
Maybe it is bitterness toward someone in your church or your family that has
been poisoning your inner life while your outer life continues to look fine.
Maybe it is doubt that has grown so large it has hollowed out the middle of
your faith while the shell of ministry activity continues. Maybe it is
something else entirely. Something that only you and God know about.
Hear
this clearly: the applause of people cannot hold you up when you are sinking.
Only Jesus can. And He is not waiting for you to sort yourself out before He
reaches for you. He is not waiting for you to be worthy of rescue. He is
waiting for you to cry out.
Cry
out in prayer. Get on your knees tonight, in private, and say what needs to be
said to God without the ministry voice and without the performance. Just the
truth. Just the depths. Just: Lord, save me.
And
then, if the struggle has roots and the private prayer alone has not been
enough, do what I did. Find a pastor. Find a mature, trusted, grace-filled,
spiritually serious person. Sit down. Say the words. Confess your faults one to
another. Let the prayer of a righteous person be released over your situation.
Let the light in.
You
will not drown from the confession. You were drowning from the silence.
The hand of Jesus is already stretched out toward you.
The only thing left is your cry.
"Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." — James 5:16 (KJV)
Back to the Text. Every Time.
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Conversation
Has
this post spoken to something you have been carrying? You do not have to share
the details publicly. But if you can say in the comments: this post was for me,
that one line will encourage someone else who reads it to cry out too. Your
honesty, even in that small form, could be the thing that pulls someone back
from the edge of silence.
If
this post has been a help to you, share it. Someone in your circle is walking
on water and sinking at the same time and does not know that Peter's story is
their permission to cry out.
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