There is a moment in Matthew 14 that has been playing on a loop in my mind recently.
The disciples are in a boat, battering against the wind, and Jesus comes out to them walking on the water. But it’s what happens next that I can’t shake. Peter—impulsive, eager, terrified Peter—says, “Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.”
And Jesus says simply: “Come.”
For a long time, my faith felt like sitting in the boat. The boat is safe. It has sides. It’s where the other eleven disciples are sitting. In ministry terms, the “boat” is the comfortable role, the lay ministry we know we can do, the familiar pew.
But discernment—specifically this build-up to my Stage 2 assessment—feels like the moment Peter swings his legs over the side.
It is the act of voluntarily stepping away from the solid floor of “what I know” and placing my weight on something that shouldn’t technically hold me up: a calling.
We all know the next part of the story. Peter walks, and then he looks at the wind. He remembers the reality of the situation (gravity, waves, the storm), and he begins to sink.
I feel that deep in my bones. As the date for the residential panel gets closer, I find myself “looking at the wind.” I look at the statistics; I look at my dyslexia; I look at the energy drain of a 48-hour interview. The waves look big, and I feel small.
But this is where the story shifts from a test of ability to a testimony of grace. When Peter sinks, he doesn’t drown. He cries out, “Lord, save me!” and Jesus immediately reaches out His hand and catches him.
As I step out towards this residential, I know I won’t be perfect. I know I might stumble. But I am realising that perfection isn’t what discernment is about.
Real safety doesn’t come from a perfect performance; it comes from proximity. Through this long, winding process, I have grown closer to Jesus than I was when I started. And because of that closeness, I know that even if I begin to sink at Stage 2—whether in a tricky interview or a moment of exhaustion—He will be right there to hold me.
