A basic principle of geometry is that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Given that reality, the road Jesus walked from the time he entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday until his resurrection on Easter Sunday was not geometrically simple. For it was anything but straight—in fact, it was rather twisted and convoluted. Some of the plot twists and unanticipated turns of events catch us by surprise. Jesus had conversations that were both eye-opening and head-scratching. From the celebratory nature of His entry on Palm Sunday … to the channeled outrage and anger of His cleansing of the Temple … to the intimacy and tenderness of the Upper Room gathering followed by the honest and raw emotion of his prayer in the garden and the immediate distress of His apprehension, trial, and death, only to be spun around and surprised by the news of his resurrection—it was a rather circuitous journey.
There’s a lot to learn not only from Jesus’ journey, but from the various people he intersects with—how they act … what they do … the things they say. And one of the most interesting was Peter—a member of Jesus’ small band of followers and a leader in that group. He’d acquired a bit of a reputation—impulsive … a bit reckless … at times prone to open his mouth before fully engaging his brain. When a storm came up while the disciples were in a boat, Jesus approached them by walking on the water. When he invited them to give it a try, Peter was the only one who dared to get out of the boat. At Caesarea Philippi, when Jesus asked the disciples who they thought he was, Peter was the one who had the courage to say, “You’re the Christ. You’re the Son of God.” It was a sentiment all of them were thinking but none of them had the courage to voice. They were awkwardly looking for someone to speak up, but Peter was the one who did.
But when we come to the events leading up to the cross and resurrection, Peter’s impulsiveness and recklessness was on full display. In the Upper Room when Jesus talked about how one of them would soon to betray him, Peter said in a confident fashion, “I never will”—only to, a few hours later, do what he swore he’d never do. In the Garden of Gethsemane, when a contingent of soldiers showed up to arrest Jesus’ and it was obvious the disciples’ worst fears about what might go down in Jerusalem were going to be realized, Peter was the guy that pulled out his sword, started flailing wildly, and cut off a guy’s ear. Jesus, in turn, scolded him and said, “That’s not the way this is supposed to play out” before miraculously re-attaching the guy’s severed ear. But … to Peter’s credit, when reports that the stone was rolled away and the grave was empty made their way back to the disciples, he was one of the first to drop what he was doing and run to the tomb and investigate. And a few weeks later—on the day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit burst onto the scene, the disciples shared the message of Jesus in the various languages of those gathered, and the crowd gathered in Jerusalem was trying to make sense of what they were witnessing—Peter was the one who on the spur of the moment stepped up and explained things, anchoring his remarks in Old Testament prophecy while calling out the shady actions of those who had apprehended and killed Jesus. His timely words led thousands of people to place their faith in Jesus.
But what Peter is perhaps best known for—and where he and Jesus intersect on the road to resurrection—is his denial of Jesus. While all four gospel accounts document it, Matthew records it this way:
Now Peter was sitting out in the courtyard, and a servant girl came to him. “You also were with Jesus of Galilee,” she said.
But he denied it before them all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
Then he went out to the gateway, where another servant girl saw him and said to the people there, “This fellow was with Jesus of Nazareth.”
He denied it again, with an oath: “I don’t know the man!”
After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away.”
Then he began to call down curses, and he swore to them, “I don’t know the man!”
Immediately a rooster crowed. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: “Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly (Matthew 26:69-75, NIV).
Jesus has been apprehended and taken to the home of the High Priest—a walled compound of some sort with an inner courtyard. And Peter was there because he wanted to show support for Jesus. Even though he was occasionally impulsive, he loved Jesus. If you were going through what Jesus was going through, seeing a friendly face would be a welcome sight. Peter wanted to be a moral support and encouragement to Jesus.
Unfortunately, some of the people recognized him—in particular, a servant girl. We don’t know whether she was making a casual observation or trying to capture the attention of someone who could have him arrested. But what we do know is when she made an allegation, Peter denied any connection to Jesus. The same thing happened a couple of more times. A couple of other people claimed to recognize him—and Peter denied it again … each denial more vehement and stronger than the last. In fact, on the third occasion, he unleashed a torrent of verbal abuse and called down a curse on himself—he essentially said “May I be eternally damned if I’m lying to you.” At this point, the Scripture says, a rooster crowed and Peter, remembering what Jesus had said just a few hours earlier, was filled with remorse and regret and ran off and cried bitterly. To have proudly claimed that he’d never shy away from acknowledging Jesus and then do it in such an overt fashion only a short time later—what an absolute punch in the gut! Peter wasn’t just filled with remorse and regret, but he was overwhelmed with humiliation and shame.
Shame is an emotion that someone once called “the swampland of the soul”—a place where all of us spend time from time to time, but a lonely and frightening place to hang out for any great length. For shame is one of the great unspoken epidemics of our day. It’s the force behind many of the destructive behaviors we see in our society. It’s the fear of being unlovable—the belief I’ve messed up so completely, screwed up so badly, and been marred so irreparably that no one in their right mind would ever attach value or importance to me, so I might as well just do what I want and not concern myself with any potential negative outcomes because it doesn’t matter anyway. Shame is a universal sensation—something every one of us has felt at some time. And I want to come back to it in just a minute.
But—how could Peter have denied the Lord he claimed to love? How is it that a random remark from a junior high aged girl compelled him to protect himself at the expense of denying his connection to, and affection for, Jesus. After all—this was Peter! This wasn’t Nicodemus—a guy who was so concerned about what others thought that he kept his soft spot for Jesus private and approached him under the cover of night. This wasn’t the rich, young ruler—a guy who was so attached to his possessions and wealth that he couldn’t let them go. This was Peter—a guy who’d openly declared the heavenly identity of Jesus when his colleagues were afraid to do so … a guy who didn’t appear to care what anyone else thought, or what opinions they held. Why did he knuckle under and fail? It’s a mystery, but it’s also a cautionary tale.
I think there are two or three reasons we can put our finger on. First—Peter didn’t heed the Lord’s warnings. In the Upper Room, when Jesus warned the disciples that one of them would deny him, Peter didn’t appear to ask himself, “How can I make sure that I’m not that person?” Instead, he turned to Jesus and said, “Not me! I’ll never do that!” His pride got in the way. He was like the car that plunged into the river because the driver ignored the “Bridge out” sign.
Second—Peter saw himself as superior to the others in the room. He had no trouble believing someone in that circle might deny the Lord—after all, the atmosphere in Jerusalem was tense. But when it came to caving in to the accompanying pressure, Peter was certain that wouldn’t be the one to do that … for he was better than that! He reminds us how easy it is for us to look at the shortcomings of others and think, “You know, if they were more like me, they wouldn’t find themselves in this mess”. It’s easy for us to notice the struggles of others and conclude that we don’t have those problems because we’re stronger or have it more together than they do. When the devil comes across a person like this, my sense is he just grins. For a person with that kind of attitude is low-hanging fruit in his eyes.
Third—Peter put himself in a situation where he was alone in enemy territory and without support. The people in that courtyard had it in for Jesus and were trying to bring about a predetermined outcome. It was the middle of the night; the only people around were accomplices in this conspiracy. Peter had no support system—no allies or colleagues he could turn to when he found himself in trouble. It was as if he’d walked into a lions’ den and then surprised when he was eaten up.
As we consider that story, here’s something to think about: “How is it this story came to be recorded in the Bible? How did we ever come to learn it was a young girl who first singled Peter out and incriminated him of being associated with Jesus? How did we ever learn that another person identified and accused because of his accent … or that he cursed and swore upon his third denial … or that the crowing of the rooster caused him to run out and weep bitterly? After all, Peter was a recognized leader of the early church—a prominent figurehead. You would think this would be the kind of story he’d want to keep under wraps. It’s not the kind of thing he’d want out in the open, or to become public knowledge. You’d also think the gospel writers would not want to paint one of the movement’s key leaders in a negative light—that a story of his epic collapse and failure would be the kind of thing they’d opt to edit out and not include in their accounts.
So … how is it that this story ever found its way into the gospels? Remember—Peter was the only one of Jesus’ followers in that courtyard—none of the other disciples were there. Which means that the story got out not because someone observed what happened and squealed or blabbed but, rather, it got out because at some point Peter opened up and shared—he became transparent, authentic, and vulnerable. But the fact this story found its way into the gospels also means that when Peter shared, he found the group to whom he opened up to be empathetic and merciful. He found a community that didn’t condemn or judge, but that helped him to move past his shame. He found in them a freedom and forgiveness from the stigma of having boasted so confidently and failed so miserably. He found a healing that he’d have never imagined would be there for someone who failed as horribly as he did. And he said, “Go ahead and share my story” because he realized other people needed to experience the acceptance, mercy, forgiveness, and grace that he’d discovered.
Shame needs three things to grow—silence, secrecy, and judgment. It’s kind of ironic—the nature of shame is that nobody wants to talk about it, but the less we talk about it, the more deeply we feel it. Peter, by bringing his shame out into the open and sharing it with an understanding and compassionate group of friends, dealt it a lethal blow and rendered it harmless to where his experience was unencumbered from the accompanying humiliation. As a result, his brokenness was able to be used as a real-life lesson to guide and inform others.
Those of us who keep secrets from God also keep our distance from Him. Those who withhold things from God miss out on intimacy with Him. But those of us who are honest with God draw near to Him. Those of us who are candid and truthful with God will experience a meaningful personal connection to Him. God doesn’t expect us to be perfect, but He needs us to be honest. For we can’t heal or move forward from what we can’t admit or acknowledge. We can’t move past, or overcome, anything we can’t confess or disclose. And the challenge for the church, as God’s representatives, is to be that safe place—that accepting and forgiving environment—that place where people can open up about their imperfections and failings and experience a level of release that will deliver them from their bondage to shame.