Twelve years ago, I was diagnosed with glaucoma — an eye disease that damages the optic nerve, darkening one’s field of vision. Test me on the fringe, and my eyesight is impeccable. But seeing the center clearly? Well, that’s my kryptonite.

It seems Peter the apostle had glaucoma too — but in his case, the disease was spiritual. Paul describes the occasion he conducted an eye exam:

When Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned. For before certain men came from James, he was eating with the Gentiles; but when they came he drew back and separated himself, fearing the circumcision party. And the rest of the Jews acted hypocritically along with him, so that even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. But when I saw that their conduct was not in step with the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all, “If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you force the Gentiles to live like Jews?” (Galatians 2:11–14)

Do you see what Peter did not? Peter and his team had lost sight of the middle: “Their conduct was not in step with the truth of the gospel.” They suffered from what we might call “gospel glaucoma,” a condition where leaders lose sight of the center. We survey the ministry forest but miss the old rugged tree. Peter contracted it in Antioch. Paul did not.

And for any leader who may assume that his training or team makes him impervious, consider the credentials of the afflicted leader.

Lost Leader

Peter was a capital “A” Apostle. Part of the inner trio. Personal pupil of the Son of God. Nicknamed “the Rock.” As for gospel training, Peter’s mentor was the gospel himself.

Peter also knew his need for the gospel. He betrayed Jesus to save his own skin. But the risen Savior forgave and restored the disgraced sinner. In every way, Peter knew grace. In the category of gospel centrality, Peter’s credentials were unimpeachable.

Yet his experience did not inoculate him from gospel glaucoma. Which leads us to Antioch.

When Peter arrived in Antioch, he created a standing dinner date of table fellowship with the Gentiles. Circumcision and dietary laws no longer determined his guest list. Peter’s encounter with Cornelius in Acts 10 had clarified that Gentiles were saved not by living like Jews but by loving the Messiah. God’s acceptance came by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone.

Suddenly, however, Peter started ghosting the Gentiles. Fearing the circumcision party, “he drew back and separated himself” (Galatians 2:12). His withdrawal became so publicly evident that “the rest of the Jews acted hypocritically along with him, so that even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy” (verse 13). Hypocrisy happens when behavior conflicts with belief. Peter still believed that sinners are justified before God by faith alone, but his public actions were sending a different message. His conduct, as diagnosed by Paul, “was not in step with the truth of the gospel” (verse 14). When this happens, the doctor becomes the patient. The leader gets lost.

What lessons should leaders draw to remain clear-sighted on the gospel and its implications?

1. Teams can curve inward.

Peter isolates himself from the Gentiles. Barnabas, caught by Peter’s leadership gravity, joins the orbit of hypocrisy. “The rest of the Jews” expand the circle of agreement. Disturbing hardly describes this development, nor the profound threat it portends. The leadership core at Antioch was creating and rewarding a culture that plotted a course for decline, division, and perhaps even extinction.

Gospel glaucoma blinds us to unhealthy leadership bubbles inflated by our cultures. As the center blurs, an elder culture rewards those who best embody and defend our cultural customs. The echo of affirmation from within stokes the feeling of success. Our identity swells.

Don’t get me wrong: A healthy elder team is a thing of beauty. The first line of defense should always be those you live and lead with, those who know your soul and family. Where good elders lead, gospel cultures flourish. But what happens when, like Peter and Barnabas, an eldership can no longer see beyond itself? When our culture punishes dissent and rewards groupthink?

No one in close proximity to Peter flagged his hypocrisy. After all, he was the exceptional leader who literally walked with Christ. “He’s an apostle, for goodness’ sake. Of course he knows what he’s doing!” Yet Peter veers. Barnabas follows. Leaders can lose sight of why they exist.

As a guy who writes a lot on plurality, I believe a church’s leaders should also be connected to other church leaders. Leadership cultures can curve inward, orienting more to protect the model than improve it. Bubbles engulf them.

Thankfully, Peter had someone outside the bubble. Paul saw the hypocrisy but wisely discerned the greater gospel compromise. How about you? Do you have peers who are both clear-sighted and courageous enough to bust your bubble when you deviate from the center?

2. Fear distorts our focus.

Peter “[feared] the circumcision party” (Galatians 2:12). Whoever these guys were, Peter did not want to risk their displeasure. The anticipation of their disapproval changed Peter’s dinner companions. Fear of man does that. It places the lever of our leadership in the hands of others. The compass for our direction is no longer gospel conviction but the party we fear.

The reason for Peter’s fear is debated. Perhaps his identity passport required the stamp of “the circumcision party.” He was hungry for their affirmation. Or maybe he feared what this party might do to the Christians in Jerusalem if they knew that Peter, one of the church’s most prominent leaders, so brazenly broke Jewish customs. Perhaps he was zealous to keep Christian friends from persecution.

Either way, fear of “parties” invests them with control over our emotional and relational health. When people become too big, their opinions imprison us. Decision-making becomes more political, seeking to protect alliances more than advance the mission. Like Peter, we too can “draw back and separate,” renouncing one crowd to secure the approval of another. No one is immune. Not even Barnabas.

“Here’s a crucial leadership principle: You cannot both lead and fear those you lead.”

I’ve strayed too. More times than I care to admit. As I type these words, I’m thinking of times when I have played to a group to feel accepted by them: Times when in fear I remained silent when I should have spoken. Times when I spoke merely to impress. Times when I advocated for God in a way that was really designed to look good before men.

Why? Because, like Peter, I was playing to one group at the expense of another. Or at the expense of my soul. My field of vision shifts. Sometimes I lose sight of the center.

3. Gospel-clarity incites leadership courage.

Paul deserves a medal of valor. Peter’s credentials, and even the silence of respected leaders around him, did not intimidate the man from Tarsus. Paul did not avoid conflict, over-empathize with Peter’s struggle, or mitigate his diagnosis. “How can you force the Gentiles to live like Jews?” (Galatians 2:14).

Detecting the smoke of hypocrisy, Paul popped the hood on Peter’s fear. What he found was that Peter’s conduct was betraying the gospel he believed. So, he challenged Peter — specifically, publicly, courageously.

Courage is what we do when our convictions carry a cost. It’s not just about being honest — it’s easy to be honest among those who admire or agree with us. For honesty to be courageous, it requires the ingredient of risk.

As C.S. Lewis wrote, “Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point” (The Screwtape Letters, 161). In other words, when our virtue is tested by cost, it reveals our courage (or lack of it).

So, how courageous are you willing to be? Consider some practical questions.

1. To what extent do you fear those you lead?

Here’s a crucial leadership principle: You cannot both lead and fear those you lead. Our fear, if left unaddressed, transfers power to those we fear. It gives them a lever to influence our vision and execution.

Leaders who prioritize approval will conduct popularity polls, shaping decisions around winning favor rather than godly conviction. Whether in the home or in ministry, this dynamic creates a culture keyed to fear, not truth.

2. Are you avoiding hard conversations simply to keep the peace?

Is there a Peter in your life, someone displaying a pattern that is bearing bad fruit in his life or leadership? Avoiding necessary conversations for the sake of temporary peace is not love — it’s fear. Unchallenged patterns can render others blind to the gospel. What’s needed is courage — someone who will speak honestly without qualifying the edge out of the point he delivers.

Can those around you count on your honesty? Remember, Scripture is “profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:16). Can you look at your life and ministry and see evidences of using Scripture for all of those purposes?

3. Are you willing to put your reputation at risk for the gospel?

For Paul, courage meant cherishing the gospel above his reputation with Peter and even above the good name he had with Barnabas and others. Don’t get me wrong: There’s nothing wrong with a good name. Proverbs 22:1 says, “A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches.” What makes a name good, however, depends on how it is achieved, who is calling it good, and why they see it as good.

The kind of names that God calls good come from convictional leadership and courage in the face of opposition. If we, or the elders we lead with, are fixated on maintaining favor with any party, our convictions will shape around the least resistance.

The enemy knows how to exploit our fear of losing favor. Most leaders with any weight can tolerate the negative judgments of those they barely know. But can we remain humble and convictional when we are misunderstood or misrepresented within our own community?

Return to the Center

Paul warned Peter — and through him, the Galatians — not to rebuild the wall of moralism and legalism torn down by the gospel. We do not need a new perspective or a new focus. We need to die. And we need to live. This was Paul’s prescription for gospel glaucoma:

Through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. (Galatians 2:19–20)

If you are an elder who loves his Bible, make no mistake: Disapproval is coming. Courage is needed. Pluck will be tested.

Remember that we follow a Savior whose ministry was marked by baseless accusations and wholesale rejection. Yet by dying, he gave us the ability to stand. Keep your eyes fixed upon our glorious Savior — the center that holds your gaze and braces your heart.