“Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. ‘You of little faith,’ he said, ‘why did you doubt?’” — Matthew 14:31, NIV
As a child (honestly, as an adult too), I had an intense fear of bees/wasps/hornets/yellowjackets (you get the idea — things with wings that buzzed and stung). I knew what “they” said to do when one approached you. I knew I was supposed to stand still and not swat, flinch, or try to get away. Yet, every. single. time. one of those little demons came near me, I would have a full-blown breakdown and run as fast as I could (in no particular direction, mind you), flailing and swinging and just blindly freaking out. Most people laughed at me or scolded me for my reaction. My dad, however, most of the time, gently corrected my behavior. He always acknowledged my real fear, told me when the threat was gone, reminded me that my reaction wasn’t the most effective, and gently corrected my response with what might work next time. I cannot tell you how many times my dad did this. I also cannot tell you how many times I kept doing the exact opposite. It had to be exasperating.
The problem wasn’t that I didn’t trust my dad or hear his advice. My fear was simply bigger than my faith. I trusted right up until I had to put it into practice and trust a little more. It took years of slowly changing my reaction (not every time; sometimes I still flailed like a fool) and remembering what my dad taught me. I can now semi-proudly say that I (typically) put my dad’s advice into practice during my “bee” encounters.
“Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. ‘You of little faith,’ he said, ‘why did you doubt?’” — Matthew 14:31, NIV
When you read those words, how do you imagine Jesus speaking? Sometimes we read Scripture, and I think we unintentionally assign a tone to Jesus’ words that may not reflect his heart.
For most of my life, whenever I came across Jesus saying “you of little faith,” I read it almost as a sort of harsh rebuke. I imagined him frustrated or disappointed, maybe shaking his head in disbelief that his disciples still hadn’t figured it out. Honestly, I applied that same tone to myself. When I’ve struggled to trust God, when fear has crept in, or when I doubted things I knew to be true about his character, it’s easy to feel as though I’ve somehow failed him.
But more recently, through studying the Word, studying the languages, and fellowship with God, I’ve begun to view those words differently. Rather than imagining Jesus looking down on his disciples in disappointment, I picture him gently lifting the chin of a frightened child, looking into their eyes, and saying something like, “Oh, you precious one. Look at me. Remember who I am and what I can do. You can trust me.”
The more I study the very real circumstances in which Jesus says these words, the more I appreciate that picture. I can relate to the emotions that often clouded trust.
“If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?” (Matthew 6:30, NIV).
In Matthew 6, Jesus is teaching about worry. He points to the flowers and grass of the field, reminding his listeners that if God so carefully clothes something so temporary, how much more will he care for his children? They can trust his provision and care.
“He replied, ‘You of little faith, why are you so afraid?’ Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm” (Matthew 8:26, NIV).
In Matthew 8, Jesus is sleeping as the storm threatens the boat. When the terrified disciples wake him, he questions their fear, gets up, and calms the storm. They can trust his power and protection.
“Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. ‘You of little faith,’ he said, ‘why did you doubt?’” (Matthew 14:31, NIV).
In Matthew 14, Peter takes his eyes off Jesus while walking on water and begins to sink. But notice what happens: Jesus immediately reaches out his hand and catches him. Only then does he ask why Peter doubted. He can trust his hand, his mercy, his grace, and his guidance.
“Aware of their discussion, Jesus asked, ‘You of little faith, why are you talking among yourselves about having no bread?’ (Matthew 16:8, NIV).
In Matthew 16, when the disciples worry about not having what they feel they need, Jesus reminds them of the thousands he has already fed. They have seen his provision firsthand, yet they’re worrying about whether he can provide again.
Do you see the pattern?
Jesus isn’t speaking to people who have absolutely no faith in him. He is speaking to people who have followed him closely, witnessed his power, and experienced his faithfulness, but who still find themselves afraid, anxious, confused, or doubtful.
Goodness, how often is that us?
The Greek word translated as “little faith” is oligopistos (ὀλιγόπιστος), which literally means “of little faith” or “trusting too little.” (Strong’s Greek 3640). It describes an inadequate or wavering confidence rather than a complete absence of belief. Interestingly, this particular word is used only by Jesus in the Gospels.
Jesus wasn’t ignoring their lack of trust—he was correcting it. I think we often miss the love and patience evident in how he keeps teaching, providing for, and rescuing them. He doesn’t abandon Peter to the waves, leave the disciples in the storm, or stop providing because they are anxious about whether he will.
He continually redirects their attention from the circumstances frightening them to the God they can trust.
Matthew 17 is an instance I find especially fascinating. The disciples are wondering why they couldn’t drive the demons out of an afflicted little boy.
“He replied, ‘Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you’” (Matthew 17:20, NIV).
A mustard seed :) Jesus isn’t telling us to manufacture some enormous, unshakable confidence. The power of our faith isn’t in the size of our belief—it’s in the One in whom we place it. Jesus wasn't correcting the quantity of their faith, but its quality.
Obviously, like us, the disciples had imperfect faith. They doubted, misunderstood, panicked, and totally forgot what Jesus had already done. Yet, in his kindness, he continued to love, teach, and invite them to trust him more deeply.
So why do we so often read Jesus’ words through our own assumptions about what correction sounds like? We hear “you of little faith” and imagine frustration, disappointment, or even condemnation. But do the passages actually say that?
Consider Peter again. Jesus didn’t leave him struggling in the water until he demonstrated satisfactory faith. He immediately reached out his hand and caught him. His correction came in the context of his rescue, not as a condition of it.
Obviously, that does not mean that Jesus was pleased with Peter’s doubt. But he knows we will doubt, and he wants to gently correct the lack of trust. Jesus knew his disciples needed to grow in faith, and he continually confronted their fears, misunderstandings, and doubts. He also continued to patiently reveal more of himself to them through moments of gentle teaching.
Hebrews 12:6 says that the Lord disciplines those he loves. Correction and love are not opposites. In fact, Scripture teaches that God’s loving discipline is intended for our good, so that we may share in his holiness (Hebrews 12:4-12).
But God’s correction cannot be viewed through the same lens with which we have experienced earthly correction.
Human correction can be influenced by frustration, impatience, anger, disappointment, or even a desire for control. God’s correction, however, flows from his perfect character. He is never impatient because he lacks understanding, never surprised by our weaknesses, and never motivated by sinful frustration. He knows us completely, understands the limitations of our faith, and corrects us for our good, not to humiliate us or make us feel inadequate. His correction is not evidence that his love has diminished, but an expression of the love he already has for us.
We need to be careful not to confuse the conviction with condemnation. Jesus’ words don't give us permission to remain doubtful or distrustful, but they also don't give us reason to assume he is exasperated with us every time our faith falters.
Maybe you, like me, have spent too much time imagining Jesus shaking his head in disappointment when we should be considering the hand he extended to Peter.
It brings me back to the image of a father gently lifting the chin of his frightened child. The fear is real, and the child’s lack of trust might need correcting. But the father’s desire is not to shame the child for being afraid. He wants the child to look at him, remember who he is, and recognize he can be trusted.
Of course, the Bible doesn’t explicitly tell us the tone Jesus used in these moments. But it does show us his character and his response to those whose faith was faltering. I think that should challenge how we hear his words.
What if “you of little faith” is less like a disappointed father asking, “Why can’t you just trust me?” and more like a loving father gently lifting his child’s chin and asking, “Don’t you know how much you can trust me?”
bytaylormcgee
