There might be an actual theological answer to that question, but this is not it. I do a little writing for my church from time to time, and thought I’d share this piece because, you know, it’s Good Friday! Hope you enjoy….
When I read through the Gospels, I’m generally drawn to the parts about Peter because, on some level, I like to think I identify with him.
Peter had a fearlessness about him, and he wasn’t passive when it came to Christ. Quicker than most, he recognized Jesus as the Son of God and then lived like that mattered. You simply don’t ask Jesus to call you out of places mostly safe, into vastly uncontrolled, even turbulent ones, unless you fully believe he can save you when he does. And Peter did.
So I struggle with the betrayal he displayed on the night Jesus needed him most. It seems shockingly out of character and makes me uncomfortable.
…
So this night now known as good, began with Jesus breaking bread and pouring wine for his closest, truest crew. He shares with them the time has come for him to be struck, and them to be scattered. A confounding announcement that none of them understood, but even so, Peter insists he won’t scatter, even if everyone else in the group does. Ever the brazenly optimistic do-gooder. Been there.
With heavy heart, knowing his arrest was imminent, Jesus asks his friends to pray with him. Peter, long on zeal but short on follow through (and my gut tells me feeling full from food and good from drink), fell asleep.
Alone in his pain, Jesus consoles. “The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.” The master teacher provides Peter a hidden gem when doubling down; it’s Spirit, not strength; Me, not you.
…
Later that evening, outside the court where Jesus was being held, Peter warms himself by the fire. Those huddled alongside him begin to talk. An impertinent, keen-eyed teenager throws an accusation Peter’s way,
“Aren’t you a disciple of that man?” nodding towards the shackled detainee.
Pulling his cloak a bit tighter, sizing up the bystanders Peter replies, ’No.’
“I think you are.”
“I tell you, I am not.”
Super sleuth continues, “But that accent…”
“Listen, child, I swear on my life! I don’t know the man.” He hadn’t realized he was yelling till rooster crows and Jesus looks his way.
Then Peter weeps those bitter tears that every soul has known. And I would venture this was not a day that he would think was good.
…
Sometime after that, a resurrected Jesus finds Peter back where their journey began – in a boat, fishing. Preparing the morning’s catch for breakfast, sitting in silence around the fire, I wonder if memories of the first time they met resurfaced, or if distance from their darkest hour permeated? I wonder if Peter’s heart leapt the same as before, or if it beat more knowingly, when Jesus bid him come and follow once again?
Here’s how it went…
“Peter, do you love me?” Jesus seeks to bridge what fear has torn apart.
Stoking fire, appearing useful, Peter answers, “Yes, Lord, you know I do.”
“Peter. Do you love me?” Jesus won’t allow a friendship strained, continue to pretend.
Staring hard at burning ember, feeling weight of what he’s done, “Yes, you know I do.”
It’s here that I imagine Jesus rising, moving next to burdened friend, with wounded hand extended, asks politely once again, “Peter, do you love me?”
Head lifted up to meet the gaze of he who bore his shame, he knew that he could say in earnest, “Lord, you know all things, you know I do.”
A broken man reclaimed by a God who knows all things.
Maybe this is why we modify a random Friday once a year, with Good – so all we broken people know that all has not been lost.
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