Luke 22: 31-34; 54-62
What did Peter see in Jesus? It seems he saw more than the other disciples –at least he was more vocal about it. “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God,” he said speaking for the others. “Lord if it is you, tell me to come to you on the water.” “Lord should we strike with the swords?” he said when they came out to arrest Jesus this same evening. Ready to speak out, ready to act. That’s how Peter saw himself.
But what did Peter see in Jesus? Some Bible scholars have tried to play amateur psychologist. They speculate that Peter was picked on as a child. The Big fisherman was bullied, they suggest. Maybe he felt a need to brag and bluster his way through life.
And yes, when he first met Jesus he became painfully aware of his inadequacies. “Go away from me Lord…I am a sinful man.” (Luke 5:8) But soon Peter was looking to step out as a leader. What did Peter see in Jesus? Maybe a chance to be somebody brave and bold in this kingdom of God.
Well if there is any truth to this conjecture it makes Peter’s denial all the sadder in the courtyard of the high priest. Yet it’s all just guesswork. What matters most is what Peter did finally see in Jesus.
On the way to Gethsemane, Jesus has something to say to the Big Fisherman. “Simon, Simon.” Jesus calls him by his old name, not Peter which means rock. “Simon, Simon” he says as if to remind him that he is not as strong as he would like to think. “Simon, Simon” Jesus says like a parent trying to get through to the young person who thinks he knows it all.
Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. The word you is plural for all the disciples. Satan wants to get his hands on them. He wants to sift them, to shake their faith violently like you would shake the wheat to separate it from the chaff. You see, Satan intends to destroy our faith, but God uses it to turn the tables on Satan. He uses that painful sifting to have us come out stronger, to see Jesus as Peter would learn to through all this.
Satan has asked to sift( all of) you as wheat. 32 But I have prayed for you, Simon, Jesus singles Simon out because he is going to fall harder than the others. Why? He is so sure of himself. 32 But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail.
Sadly Peter can’t see this. More than once he claims he is ready to go to prison and die with Jesus if necessary. But Peter doesn’t answer Jesus as we have learned to say. Yes, with the help of God. Instead Peter relies on himself. One day he will strengthen his brothers in their faith. But not before he has his foolish bravado shaken out of him this night before the rooster crows.
It is a far different Peter who would write years later: Humble yourselves therefore under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Be self controlled and alert. You enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Peter still had to learn. You can never trust yourself too little. You can never trust Jesus too much.
54 Then seizing him, they led him away and took him into the house of the high priest. Peter followed at a distance. 55 But when they had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and had sat down together, Peter sat down with them. 56 A servant girl saw him seated there in the firelight. She looked closely at him and said, “This man was with him.” 57 But he denied it. “Woman, I don’t know him,” he said. It’s not hard to paint our face over Peter’s is it? Let’s do it now. You are frightened and confused. At first, you run with the other disciples from the mob come out to arrest Jesus, ducking branches, stumbling over rocks in the darkness. At some point you stop, hungry for air and you listen. You hear nothing except your own heavy breathing. No one following
You retrace your steps. You can hear the far off voices. You see the torches and you follow. You follow from a distance all the way to the outer court of the High Priest.
Your fellow disciple, John, is already there. He gains easy access because they know him there. John vouches for you and the servant girl at the gate lets you in. He is doing you no favor.
Jerusalem sits at an elevation of 2500 feet. Spring nights can be rather cool and besides, you are scared. So you slowly move towards the charcoal fire that people have gathered around. The warmth feels good.
But it isn’t long before that servant girl takes another look at you. This man was with him, she says. How quickly the words come to your lips. Woman I don’t know him. I’m not one of them. In the distance – do you hear it? A rooster crows.
58 A little later someone else saw him and said, “You also are one of them.” “Man, I am not!” Peter replied. Another finger is pointed your way. Everything feels like slow motion. It’s one thing to preach to the choir, to say loud and clear to the other disciples that Jesus means everything to you, that you would rather die than deny him. Courage was easy then. But now with those icy stares of those who despise everything you believe – it’s much different.
Maybe, you say to yourself, a person needs to tailor things to fit the situation. What harm is done if I keep this to myself? Why should I have to answer their awkward questions? For the second time you say what you claimed you never would. You deny him. Man, I am not.
You avoid eye contact. You stare at the ground and keep moving around. Maybe they’ll leave me alone now. Time drags on. When you look up you see the eyes now studying your face. 59 About an hour later another asserted, “Certainly this fellow was with him, for he is a Galilean.” 60 Peter replied, “Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Just as he was speaking, the rooster crowed. 61 The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.” 62 And he went outside and wept bitterly. Your tell tale accent has given you away. You feel cornered, desperate. Words come from your mouth that you will never forget. Shameful curses. You swear by all that is holy: “Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Somewhere in the distance a rooster crows a second time. It jars loose those words of Jesus you so vehemently denied. Before the rooster crows. Then your eyes meet his. You see your Friend, cuffed, beaten. Yet a face that looks at you with pity, with love.
What do you see? Your friend. Your Lord, Your Savior. The One you pretended not to know.
He looks at you. That’s all it takes. What do you see in Jesus, Peter? Pain? Disappointment? What do you see in Jesus, Peter? Love!, Yes, Undeserved love. You crumble. You remember what he told you, what you didn’t want to hear. I don’t need your prayers. I know, so you thought.
You stumble out of the courtyard. You are running now but you can’t outrun your conscience. How could I? I am one of them. And when my big chance came to stand up and be counted, I swore I never knew him. What happened here?
You know don’t you. You remember Peter that night on the sea of Galilee. Jesus invited you to come to him on the water. You got out of the boat. You walked until when. You took your eyes off of Jesus and looked at those wind and waves. Remember Peter how you began to drown and Jesus reached out his hand to save you.
After that, you told yourself that you would never do that again. You would never again take your eyes off Jesus, even if everyone else did, even if the whole world denied Jesus.
But now the tears run down into your beard again because you took your eyes off Jesus. You were so sure, so confident. But not in Jesus, in yourself. You had faith alright but faith in your own faith instead of faith in Christ.
O Peter, why does it take so long for us to learn this. To see that the Gospel of Christ is not about me. It’s not about character building and better relationships. It’s not about success and 12 steps to felling better about myself. The Gospel is about my Friend., that he can be counted upon even when I fall on my face. It’s about his perfect life that covers my sinful failures. It’s about his death that plucks the painful stinger from mine. It’s about his resurrection that shines the light of life into the darkness of my grave. This Gospel does not tell me how I should feel about Jesus or how I should live for him. It tells me how he feels about me. It tells me what he did for me.
Bless your tears, Big Fisherman. By God’s grace those tears have come. Tears of sorrow that seek God’s forgiveness. Tears of sorrow that yearn for the peace Jesus gives. That’s why you ran to his grave on Easter morning. Not all do. Many still look at Jesus and harden their hearts. Bless your repentance, Big Fisherman. Now you see Jesus clearly. Amen.