In every household with more than one child, perhaps throughout all time, I imagine some version of this scene has played out on a semi-regular basis:

Father: “Son, I told you to clean up the Legos.”
Son: “But the sister you gave me isn’t helping me!”
Parent: “…And? Does that make it ok for you to disobey, too? Don’t worry about what she’s doing, that’s my job. Your job is to obey. Legos. Box. Stat!”

I remember hearing my dad deliver variations on that speech (to my brothers, of course…) many times growing up. Now I find myself delivering it regularly to my own children. And sadly, it’s not a problem limited to the young - the temptation to justify ourselves by comparison is as old as the human race.

So it shouldn’t surprise us too much to see Peter, after being told that following Christ would lead to his eventual execution, pointing the finger at John asking Jesus “What about that guy?” Christ’s answer, as always, cuts through the noise directly to the heart of the issue: “Don’t worry about that, Peter. That’s between me and him. You follow me.”

This is, of course, a command to obey (follow me). It’s also a command to simply obey, and stop demanding explanations (what is it to you?). Desiring to understand a command is not sinful, unless it becomes a condition of obedience – and Christ deftly addressed both of those issues in this passage. With wisdom and love, He firmly directs Peter’s attention back to the issue at hand, as he had done many times before. “Do you love me, Peter? Do you trust me? Then stop looking John, stop fearing the waves, stop worrying about what happens next. Just follow me.”

But there’s more here than just a command. There’s a promise, implicit in the character of the one giving the command - a promise that following Christ, even down a road that seems dark and painful to our eyes, will always ultimately lead to rest and rejoicing. There are so many things in this life that can overwhelm us, can cause us to question our Savior. Obedience to Christ, after all, does not lead to a trouble-free life. Quite the opposite. Difficult roads, long nights, dry seasons, deep valleys – cups set before us in our Lord’s sovereign will. And we, made of dust, begin sliding our chair back from the table, quite certain some mistake has been made.

But Christ’s words direct us to the issue at hand: “Do you love me? Do you trust me? Then don’t worry about these things. You follow me.”

There’s an ocean of peace in those words. Christ promises victory, rest, joy, and lasting peace. He has promised to sanctify us, to mold us into his own likeness, to remove that which destroys and increase that which glorifies.

We follow a Savior who knows we are dust (Psalm 103:14), is acquainted with sorrow (Isaiah 53:3), and is sympathetic with our weaknesses (Hebrews 4:15). But more than that, he is faithful to those who trust in Him (Nahum 1:7), and His plans are always for our good (Romans 8:28). He has promised that his path leads to life (John 14:6) – and so when that path leads us into a valley, we can rest in the knowledge that it will also lead us out. And more, that the valley itself is part of His good plan.

Firm in that knowledge, we can respond as Peter did: Set aside our worries and objections, lower our pointed fingers, and simply do the next right thing, following Christ wherever He leads.