Scripture Characters
XI. PETER: THE TRIAL, INFIRMITY,
AND TRIUMPH OF HIS FAITH.
"them of little faith, wherefore didst
thou doubt?" MATT. xiv. 28-31.
THE incident recorded in this passage of Scripture not
only illustrates generally the character of the Apostle Peter, but affords a
particular example of his faith its power, and its weakness too such as may be
usefully studied. The whole of this midnight scene, indeed, is full of
instruction to the believer, especially in seasons of darkness and doubt. The
disciples are sent to sea alone; their Master constrains them to get into a
ship and go before him to the other side of the lake, while he remains behind,
first to dismiss the multitude whom he has miraculously fed in the desert, and
then to go up into a mountain apart to pray. At first, in the calm evening and
on the smooth waters, fresh as they were from the wondrous feast, the disciples
might think little of their temporary separation from their Lord, as they
cheerfully launched forth their little bark, in anticipation of a short and
easy voyage, and a happy meeting on the other side. Suddenly the sky is
overcast, the wind is contrary, and, midway across the sea, the ship is tossed
with waves. And where at this critical moment is Jesus? Why is he not with
them, to say to the stormy billows "Peace, be still?" Has he forgotten them?
"This is their infirmity." Did they not "remember the works of the Lord and his
wonders" not in their case "of old?" (Psa. lxxvii. 10, 11.) Alas, they feel
desolate and forlorn. And lo, to trouble them still more, here is a vision, an
apparition of a shadowy, spectral form, in the dark mist the spirit of the
tempest, as it might seem, mocking their helplessness as he makes them "reel to
and fro, and stagger like a drunken man!" Truly "they are at their wits' end;"
when a blessed voice out of the gloom reassures them, and the well-known
accents fall upon their ears "Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid." , What
a lesson to a doubting soul! What a rebuke of unbelief! "The waters saw thee, O
God, the waters saw thee; they were afraid. Thy way is in the sea, and thy path
in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not known" (Psa. lxxvii. 16, 19).
Rushing, with his usual impetuosity, from one extreme to another, Peter
not only recovers his self-possession, but rises as by a rebound to the highest
pitch of boldness. We may be sure he had been at least as much depressed as his
fellow-disciples as ready to despair of help while Jesus was absent as apt to
mistake his abrupt approach in an unexpected way as if it were a vision of
judgment, and not a visit of love. But what a start he makes, on the instant,
out of the lowest depth of trouble and terror, to what might seem the very
romance of confidence and daring, rather than the chastened and sober reality
of humble faith! And that there is something of the spirit of romance here, we
are far from denying; nay, it is this very feature in the incident before us
that gives it, in our view, at once its charm and its value; its charm, as a
picture of most attractive interest; and its value, as a lesson of the utmost
practical worth. Certainly, the alternations of a mind like Peter's even when
it seems to be capriciously tossed to and fro between what looks too like
despair and what savours too much of foolhardiness are preferable to the
monotony of an ever placid and unbroken calm. The living enthusiasm of faith,
with all the irregular fluctuations of its beating pulse and throbbing heart,
is better far than the uniformity of a dead sleep, or sloth. It is not always
the most unwholesome weather when the glass shows rapid variations between the
points of storm and fair; nor is it a bad sign of the glass itself, that its
index sometimes makes sudden enough leaps upon the dial-plate, in obedience to
these atmospheric changes.
There is life, then, in Peter's faith life,
and not a little health too; otherwise it would have nothing in it either to
attract or to edify. But the incident which we are now to consider is both
attractive and edifying; affording us an insight into the workings of a lively
faith in a lively soul, and bringing out, in the liveliest manner, its genuine
sincerity, its imperfection, and its ultimate prevalence and triumph. That
Peter's faith in Jesus was at all events and upon the whole sincere, is
manifest from these two circumstances in his behaviour: that at the first, in
dependence upon Jesus, he left the vessel; and, again, when sinking, called
upon him for aid. He must have believed that it was no incorporeal spirit, but
his own beloved Master, whom he saw, and whose voice of encouragement he heard;
and he must have been thoroughly convinced that he was both able and willing to
sustain his footsteps on the treacherous path which he invited him to tread:
otherwise his conduct, in attempting to walk on the water, was utter madness;
and his cry when sinking, "Lord, save me!" was the mere raving of delirious
terror. His faith, then, might be weak and liable to the interruption of doubt;
but still it was genuine and hearty.
And the very words of our
Saviour's reproof manifestly imply that it was so: "thou of little faith,
wherefore didst thou doubt?" Peter is not charged with the sin of having no
faith at all, though he is reproved for having little faith. Nay, at the very
instant of his culpable doubting, his faith was in active exercise; for in
faith he had been willing to comply with his Master's call, and in faith he was
making his earnest prayer to him for help. He had faith, therefore, and that
sincere faith, though he had not much faith, or strong faith. He had such a
faith as made him hazard his life on the truth believed, and told him where in
danger to seek for safety.
By the example, therefore, of Peter's faith,
we are taught that uneasy thoughts and anxious fears, however inconsistent they
may be with the abundance and the strength of energetic faith, are not always
or necessarily inconsistent with its genuine reality. He who doubts in the time
of trial is evidently a man of comparatively little faith, and, as such, may be
reproved; for his doubt intimates some remains of unreasonable and unworthy
distrust: "Wherefore dost thou doubt?" But still he may be a man of true and
sincere faith. Nay, his very doubt and disquietude may arise from an experience
which, while it proves the weakness of his faith, must be regarded, at the same
time, as proving anything rather than his total want of faith; as from a deep
conviction of his own sinfulness and helplessness, which is rarely found
unconnected with some measure of a believing knowledge of Christ, his holiness,
his grace, his power; or from a keen sense of those very difficulties and
temptations to which the warmth, the zeal, and the devotedness of his believing
love to Christ may have mainly contributed to expose him.
Yes, there
are difficulties; there are dangers and disasters, in the true believer's
course, of which your smooth formalist and mere worldly professor of
Christianity can know nothing. There are terrors in sin which the unawakened
conscience never feels; trials in a holy walk which the"contented dweller in
decencies" never has to face; vicissitudes in the inward conflict with
corruption, and the inward fellowship of the soul with its God, of which they
who pace the dull routine of outward ordinances, and call such bodily exercise
religion, cannot even imagine the possibility. Ah! it is easy for those who
have never learned to be tremblingly alive to the realities of God's wrath on
the one hand, and his blessed favour on the other; who have never looked hell
in the face, and never basked, in the sunshine of God's reconciled countenance
as a prelude of heaven itself; who have never felt what it is to cast a
trembling glance on the Lamb of God, and lay a trembling hand on the atoning
sacrifice, scarcely venturing, even on the strongest and broadest assurances of
the free offer and full welcome of the gospel, to commit their souls to a
gracious and waiting Saviour; who have never, in short, encountered the actual
work and warfare of a life of unreserved self-dedication to God; it is easy for
them to be placid and unruffled in their temper, and to pass through this world
of sin and sorrow with an equanimity that seems entitled to all praise. No
wonder that any record of the ups and downs of a spiritual man's experience
should seem to them either a mystery or a lie. The doubts, and fears, and
groanings, and unspeakable cries and tears of David, in the Psalms, or of one
greater than David, they set down as mere exaggerations. But if there be any
who find in such deep movements of soul only too true a picture of their own
state if there be any who, in trouble of body or anxiety of mind, are apt to be
shaken and to be afraid it is something for them to learn and see, from this
instance of Peter, that such doubting, however it may indicate remaining
unbelief, is not necessarily of itself a proof, either that they do not believe
now, or that they have never believed at all. And if, in the midst of such
natural anxieties, and the fears which beset him on every side, the Christian,
when sinking under the weight of conscious infirmities, is enabled in his
distress to call upon the Lord "Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, Lord"
then, though his faith may be little, it may be a true faith still; and his
earnest ejaculation, "Lord, save me," will be heard and answered as a prayer of
faith.
Nay, more; as in the case of Peter, this very proof this
practical and experimental instance of his unbelief will itself be made the
occasion of strengthening and encouraging his faith. The Saviour's hand will be
stretched forth to help, and his ready Spirit will descend to comfort, even
while his voice of mild expostulation ever averse to break the bruised reed or
to quench the smoking flax gently reprimands the sin and folly of distrust:
"thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"
But let us further
observe, that the faith of Peter, though sincere, was yet imperfect; and
accordingly, our Lord's question, "Wherefore didst thou doubt?" while it
implied a gracious acknowledgment of his prayer, even in the instant of his
faith beginning to waver, implied also a reproof of that very wavering. And the
reproof was just. The question might well be asked of Peter, and of every one
of us, when, like him, under the very eye of our Saviour who, exalted as he is,
and gone apart to pray for us, still bends on us a look of sympathy we are
ready to faint in the trials to which he calls us; the question might well be
asked, "Wherefore dost thou doubt?" Wherefore? For surely while He is so near
us there is no cause of fear. Such doubt, both in Peter's case and in ours,
must be alike unreasonable and sinful. Let us mark here the progress of Peter's
temporary distrust and doubting, that we may see exactly the nature of his sin.
When Peter, then, first recognised his Master's presence, so forward
was he to profess his faith, and to put his resolution to the test, even at the
hazard of his life, so great was his anxiety to meet Jesus, and so implicit his
confidence, that he was willing to trust himself with him even on the yielding
waves. Yet, notwithstanding this almost childish eagerness, he was not so hasty
but that he felt the necessity of his Master's sanction being previously given
to a proposal which, without such a divine sanction, and the implied promise of
divine help, it must have been folly in him, or in any man, to make.
Accordingly, he desired to know his Master's will and pleasure in this matter.
He did not venture upon a single step .without first inquiring what his Master
would have him to do. He appealed to his judgment and sought his countenance:
"Lord, if it be thou" as surely, indeed, it is thou "bid me come unto thee on
the water." He would not go unbidden. Impetuous as he was, he would not run
into danger without a call; he waited for his Master's invitation. It may seem
to us, indeed, that in courting and seeking that invitation, the apostle was
too rash and hasty. And certainly it does appear, that when he confidently
challenged so severe a trial of his faith, he was not sufficiently aware of the
weakness of that faith; though, after all, where his Lord was, it was surely
good for him to be; and he could scarcely avow too strong an attachment to
Jesus, or cherish too impatient a longing to bear him company, through whatever
dangers his way might lie.
One thing, however, at least is evident,
when he received the invitation, "Come," Peter unquestionably did right in
complying with it. His error afterwards consisted in this that he distrusted
that divine assistance which had been virtually pledged and secured to him.
But, certainly, after the profession which he had made, and the command which
he had received, there was no room for reluctance or hesitation. He could not
now draw back without a complete renunciation of all his love to the Saviour
and all his hope in his mercy. He made the profession, perhaps, somewhat
rashly, when he abruptly proposed to venture on so bold an attempt; yet it was
a good profession, a good proposal after all, it had obtained his Master's
approbation. And at all events, when he was taken at his word, and required to
prove the sincerity of his profession, by acting according to his own proposal,
he had only one course to pursue, that of instant and unreserved obedience. He
did not, therefore, we now see, presumptuously and needlessly encounter this
trial of his faith. He did so at his Master's invitation, and by his Master's
express authority. And accordingly, we may observe, while Jesus reproved him
for his doubting in the time of trial, he did not reprove him for his
spontaneous proposal to come unto him, much less for his readiness to obey in
faith, and at all personal hazards, the commandment which he had received to
come. Thus the sin of Peter, in this instance, must be held to lie, not
certainly by any means in the zealous profession which he made of his faith,
nor in the prompt alacrity of his faithful obedience, but in the weakness and
unsteadfastness of that faith which he professed, and in which he obeyed.
Such precisely was Peter's sin; such is the sin against which we have
to guard. For we too, from time to time, make precisely such a profession of
our faith as Peter did, and express like him our desire of meeting with our
Lord and Saviour, even though it should be on the waves of a stormy ocean. When
we see, as it is hoped each one of us not infrequently in devout musing sees,
when we see him standing not far from our souls, and hear him addressing to us
those words of mild encouragement with which he revived the drooping hearts of
his faint and disconsolate disciples, "Be of good cheer; it is I; be not
afraid;" when thus, in his own appointed means and ordinances, we recognise a
present God, especially if it be after a season of midnight gloom and tempest;
in the ardour of our faithful and honest zeal we are constrained to exclaim
with Peter, Lord, since now I know that it is thou, bid me come unto thee
and I will confidently and joyfully come, even walking, if need be, on the dark
and deceitful waters of the deep.' It may be that we often make this profession
somewhat rashly and inconsiderately, presuming upon our own competency, not
knowing sufficiently our weakness, or pausing to think of the temptations which
await us.
But then we have professed, and surely we do not repent of
our profession. From time to time, with peculiarly affecting solemnity, in the
holy sacrament of the Supper we profess, every Sabbath, every day of the week,
in our retirement, we profess this very morning, in our closets, this Sabbath,
in the Lord's house, this Communion Sabbath, at the Lord's table, with tears
and prayers we have professed our willingness, our anxiety, to go to Jesus,
even though we should have to go through darkness and a stormy sea. We have
said that our great delight, our supreme desire, is to be with Jesus, and to
enjoy his holy and spiritual fellowship; that, with this view, we are prepared
cheerfully to renounce our most favourite sin, fearlessly to encounter the most
formidable enemy of our peace, resolutely to deny ourselves, and to take up our
cross and follow wherever he points the way; that as we advance towards him in
our Christian course, no difficulties are to shake our holy resolution, since
we are willing even to cut off our right hand, and to pluck out our right eye,
to sacrifice our dearest hopes and wishes, if they keep us apart from him, or
cause us to offend against him. All this we have professed, believing that He
who sustained Peter on the water will uphold us also by his mighty power;
knowing assuredly that there can be no danger in the sea when our Saviour is
with us, no terror in the boisterous and stormy wind when He, our God, is
there.
Doubtless, in all this zeal of profession and determination,
there may have been sin, because there may have been self-deception. For in
what act, in what promise or purpose of faith, is there not both? In the
excitement of an impressive religious ordinance in the engrossing earnestness
of our devotional feelings we may forget the pain of self-denial, the trials of
active duty, and our own insufficiency in the midst of these trials. And so,
being imposed upon by the transient warmth of our enthusiasm, we may fancy our
faith to be more firm and trustworthy than in the hour of the world's
temptations it may be found to be. But what then? Do we mend the matter by
refusing now to fulfil our obligations? Are we prepared to falsify altogether
the profession which we have made? to decline the work which we have
undertaken? To resist the call which we have received? Wilfully to cast aside
our Christian name and our Christian hopes; and pledged as we are sealed and
devoted yet to draw back, to the perdition of our souls? Rather, if ever the
blessed promises of the gospel have been brought home with unwonted power to
our hearts; if ever the love of a crucified Redeemer, set vividly before us in
the doctrines of his word, or in the symbols of his death, has touched and
affected us, and filled us with new and strong emotions of holy zeal; let us
act as we have felt, let us practise as we have resolved, not resisting the
Spirit nor despising the voice of Him who speaketh now to us from heaven as he
spoke to his disciples upon earth. When he says, "Come," let us be ready to go,
though we may be called to pass through deep waters or walk on a troubled sea.
And then, in the trial and weakness of our faith, we shall be encouraged as we
remember the prevailing efficacy of the apostle's seasonable prayer. "When he
saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid, and began to sink." But still, in his
alarm, he knew to whom he should apply for aid. His faith, though failing, did
not altogether desert him; his fear, though it shook his confidence, did not
hinder his prayer. He cried, saying, "Lord, save me." And immediately, for God
is not slow to hear the cry of the afflicted, and send help in the time of
need, immediately Jesus lent his ear, and"stretched forth his hand and caught
him."
That ear is not now heavy, that it cannot hear. That hand is not
now shortened, that it cannot save; it will be extended to us also, when, in
sin and in sorrow, trembling and sinking, we call upon Him for aid. And, as in
the case of Peter, our very faintness of heart may be turned to account for
ministering not only a reproof of our unbelief, but even a new strengthening of
our faith. For the Lord can bring good out of evil, and make all things work
together for good to them that love him. When "this poor man cried, and the
Lord heard him," he received a new encouragement, such as he would never
forget, to "trust and not be afraid." In his doubt and despair he made
application to One mighty to save, and the application was not made in vain. In
prayer, ejaculatory prayer, the mere cry of utter helplessness, he found relief
from terror, and help in his utmost need. So will Jesus help his people still;
delivering their eyes from tears, their feet from falling, and their souls from
death.
His ready Spirit will turn their very groanings which cannot be
uttered into prayers; and taking of what is Christ's to show to their souls, he
will become to them, and in them, a Comforter indeed. And ever after, the
recollection of their experience in such a trying hour will be at once for
rebuke and for help and consolation; as if there were ever before them the
gracious face of the living and loving Saviour, and ever ringing in their ears
his calm clear voice of mingled reprimand and revival, "thou of little faith,
wherefore didst thou doubt?"
We are apt to complain sometimes of life's
weary trials, and of the difficulties and hardships of our Christian calling;
but we may bless God for them all, as for our greatest mercies, if by his grace
they thus become the means of directing our thoughts and our prayers to him.
When danger is absent, we are apt to depart from God, because we forget our
dependence, we forget our infirmity, we are confident and strong in the
apparent strength and confidence of our faith; and it is only when we feel that
faith to be actually giving way, its strength all gone, and its high confidence
turned into doubt and fear, it is not till then that we are thoroughly
convinced of its utter insufficiency, and disposed to trust no longer in our
faith itself, but in the Lord our God, who is the object of our faith. Thus it
may frequently happen, that, being conscious of some particular duty hitherto
neglected, or of some one sin which very easily besets us, in the depth of our
repentance, and the holy ardour of our faith, we resolve now to perform that
duty punctually, and resolutely to renounce that sin. Our repentance may be a
repentance of godly sorrow; our faith may be for the time sincere. And feeling
quite secure in the conscious integrity of our own good purposes, we forget
their weakness, we forget the difficulty of the task which we have imposed upon
ourselves, we forget the temptation which, in a few short hours, will assail
us. But that temptation comes too soon, and the difficulty which we had
strangely overlooked is felt. "We see the wind boisterous, and are afraid, and
begin to sink." We find ourselves fast yielding to the allurements or the
terrors of the world, which we still too fondly love. Betrayed too by the
inclinations of our own deceitful hearts, we find ourselves just about to omit
the duty again, and once more, only once more, to commit the sin. But we stop
short just in time; we betake ourselves to prayer; and a single thought of
heaven, perhaps, a single ejaculation directed thither, draws down an influence
from on high, to strengthen, to quicken, to revive us. Happy is it for us if we
learn from such critical experience the double lesson of watchfulness and
prayer. Happy is it for us if, thus convinced of our own helplessness, we
neither resolve nor act in our own strength. "He that trusteth in his own heart
is a fool."
Let us ponder well the lesson of Peter's faith. Let us
learn, like Paul, to profit by our very infirmities. That apostle, for our
instruction, has thus recorded his experience: "There was given to me a thorn
in the flesh" some sore outward trial or grievous inward temptation "lest I
should be exalted above measure;" and "I besought the Lord thrice, that it
might depart from me." The answer was, not the removal of the thorn, nor any
promise as to its removal, but the mere general assurance, "My grace is
sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness." "Therefore"
adds the holy apostle, "I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in
necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake: for when I am
weak, then am I strong" weak in the feeling of my own utter helplessness;
strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
"Why sayest thou,
Jacob, and speakest, Israel, My way is hid from the Lord, and my judgment is
passed over from my God? Hast thou not known? Hast thou not heard, that the
everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not,
neither is weary? There is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power
to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength. Even the
youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: but they
that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with
wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not
faint." (Isaiah xl. 27-31).
Go To Scripture Characters No. 12
SCRIPTURE CHARACTERS BY ROBERT S. CANDLISH, D.D., FREE ST. GEORGE'S, EDINBURGH. LONDON: T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
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