Follow Me Anyway
“Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man.” — Luke 5:8
Peter’s words have always struck me because they feel so familiar.
Not because I’ve spent my life fishing on the Sea of Galilee. Not because I’ve witnessed a miraculous catch of fish. But because I know what it feels like to stand before an opportunity, a calling, a dream, or an assignment from God and think:
Lord, You’ve got the wrong person.
I suspect I’m not alone.
Many of us spend years believing that one day we will finally become the kind of person God can use.
Once we learn enough.
Once we heal enough.
Once we mature enough.
Once we become confident enough.
Once we overcome every weakness, insecurity, and flaw.
Then we’ll be ready.
Then we’ll step out.
Then we’ll answer the call.
The problem is that “ready” keeps moving.
Every time we reach the place we thought would qualify us, another requirement appears.
One more class.
One more credential.
One more certification.
One more book.
One more year of preparation.
One more reason to wait.
Preparation is valuable. We should learn. We should grow. We should seek wisdom. But preparation can quietly become a hiding place.
At first, we prepare because we need knowledge.
Then we continue preparing because knowledge feels safer than obedience.
We convince ourselves that we’re being responsible when, in reality, we may be avoiding the very thing God has asked us to do.
Fear is rarely obvious.
Fear often disguises itself as wisdom.
It sounds like:
“I just need a little more training.”
“I need a better plan.”
“I need more experience.”
“I don’t know enough yet.”
“What if someone asks me a question I can’t answer?”
“What if I fail?”
What if.
What if.
What if.
The tragedy is that many God-given dreams never die because of opposition.
They die because of hesitation.
The person keeps preparing long after preparation has done its job. The dream remains buried beneath notebooks, plans, courses, and good intentions. The calling waits while confidence is being chased.
Yet throughout Scripture, God seems remarkably comfortable calling people who don’t feel qualified.
Moses stuttered.
Jeremiah thought he was too young.
Gideon believed he came from the weakest family.
Esther was terrified.
Peter felt sinful and inadequate.
The disciples were ordinary men with no special credentials.
Again and again, God chooses people whose first reaction is not confidence but doubt.
Not:
“Finally. I’ve been waiting for this.”
But:
“Are You sure?”
And perhaps that’s because God’s power has never depended upon human qualification.
If God only used people who felt fully prepared, He would use very few people.
The pattern of Scripture is not that God finds qualified people and gives them a mission.
The pattern is that God gives ordinary people a mission and qualifies them along the way.
We want confidence before obedience.
God often asks for obedience before confidence.
That is uncomfortable.
We prefer certainty. We want a guarantee that everything will work out. We want assurance that we will not fail. We want to know every answer before the first question is asked.
But faith does not work that way.
Faith has never been about possessing all the information. Faith is taking the next step with the information you already have.
Peter did not learn how to walk on water before stepping out of the boat. He learned while walking.
The disciples did not fully understand how they would change the world when Jesus called them. They learned while following.
Abraham did not receive a detailed map. He learned while traveling.
Growth happened in motion.
Not in waiting.
Not in endless preparation.
In motion.
This realization can be deeply confronting.
Because if we are honest, many of us have everything we need for the next step. We simply do not feel ready.
And feelings are powerful. They convince us that readiness is a feeling rather than a decision.
But readiness is rarely a feeling.
More often, readiness is choosing to move forward while your knees are still shaking.
It is saying yes while uncertainty remains.
It is trusting God with the gap between your ability and the assignment.
The older I get, the more I realize that feeling unqualified is not necessarily a sign that you are unprepared. Sometimes it is evidence that you understand the weight of what God is asking you to do.
People who care deeply about serving others often feel the burden most. They understand the responsibility. They want to do it well. They do not want to cause harm. They do not want to disappoint people. They do not want to misrepresent God.
Those are not signs of incompetence.
They are signs of humility.
The danger comes when humility turns into paralysis. When caution becomes avoidance. When responsibility becomes an excuse to remain on the sidelines.
At some point, every believer must answer a difficult question:
Will I trust my feelings, or will I trust God’s calling?
Because there may never come a day when you feel completely ready. There may never come a day when every fear disappears. There may never come a day when all uncertainty is gone.
But there can come a day when you decide that God’s invitation matters more than your insecurity.
Perhaps that is why I love Peter’s story so much.
Peter’s first response was:
“Go away from me, Lord.”
Jesus’ response was essentially:
“Follow Me anyway.”
Not because Peter was qualified. Not because Peter was fearless. Not because Peter had everything figured out.
But because Jesus saw who Peter would become.
And maybe that’s what God sees when He looks at us. Not merely who we are today. Not merely our weaknesses, doubts, fears, and limitations. But who we can become through obedience.
So if your prayer today is:
“Lord, I don’t feel like the right person,”
take comfort.
You are standing in the company of Moses. Jeremiah. Gideon. Esther. Peter. And countless others whom God used powerfully.
The story was never about their qualifications.
The story was always about God’s faithfulness.
Maybe the answer you’ve been waiting for is the same answer Peter received all those years ago.
Not a detailed explanation.
Not a guarantee.
Not another season of preparation.
Just an invitation.
Follow Me anyway.
— Rosalyn P. Williams
Founder, The Inner Healing Center
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