Peter's story (part 1)
recorded by Barry Jackson
(scroll down for some questions for reflection at the end of the story)
I couldn’t think.
I was so full of guilt… and shame… and doubt… I just couldn’t think.
Don’t get me wrong, along with all the others, I was full of joy when we first fully understood that Jesus had been raised from the dead. Joy, and… to be honest, disbelief. I mean, you just don’t expect people to come back from the dead… we all know that’s impossible.
When Mary first told us she’d seen him, it all seemed ridiculous… but then I met him myself, in the garden where the tomb was.
I’d gone out for a third time that day to have a look around the garden. We’d all searched together for his body and found nothing, but I couldn’t bear sitting around in the upper room with Mary constantly asserting that she’d seen him, and John trying gently to reason with her. So, not long after Cleopas and his wife had gone, I went out again to the tomb to have another look for any clues.
As I approached, I could see a contingent of guards looking around the area. I was terrified they would recognise me, so I pulled my shawl up and kept walking on, up the road that heads towards the north of the city. I was so scared I could hardly breathe… I was sure that they would call out and stop me, but they didn’t. I wandered around and worried for over an hour before I summoned up the courage to go back again. When I got there, I was relieved to see that they’d gone.
The encounter with the guards had shaken me… the fear of being caught reminded me how terrified I’d been on the night of when Jesus was arrested… when I denied that I even knew him. I’d meant to look around the tomb again, but instead, full of shame, I just sat on the ground with my head in my hands. Part of me was hopeful that he had come back from the dead, but if I’m honest, another part of me… a part that I hated… was hoping that he hadn’t. If he hadn’t come back from the dead, then I wouldn’t need to face him… I wouldn’t need to confess that I’d failed him; denying that I even knew him.
I heard a noise and looked up, afraid that the guards had come back… but it wasn’t them, it was Jesus! He was standing there looking at me with that familiar smile on his face. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing… I closed my eyes and opened them again, expecting that it was just a strange vision brought on by grief… but he was still there!
My heart felt like it was in a vice, and I was gripped by a rising feeling of terror when he spoke, ‘Peter, don’t be afraid. I am real, and I’m here… touch me and know.’
I stood and reached out a hand. I was shaking like a leaf and hesitated to touch him. ‘Peter,’ he said again, ‘Don’t be afraid’ and he gently reached out and touched my hand.
I didn’t know that it was possible to know such joy and such fear all at the same time. My heart leapt with joy as I touched his robe, but my head… my head was full of fear and disbelief. ‘Is… is… is it really you, Lord?’ I whispered.
‘Simon Peter,’ he laughed gently, ‘Full of faith and doubt. Yes, it’s me.’
My heart won, and joy drowned out the fear… only to be quickly replaced by my sense of inadequacy again and I fell at his feet weeping and saying, ‘Oh Lord… oh Lord… oh Lord...’ over and over. He picked me up and held me.
I wanted to tell him how badly I’d failed him, but the words wouldn’t come. After a few minutes he straightened up and held me at arm’s length, ‘Peter, go and tell the others that Mary is speaking the truth. Go and listen to what she has to say.’
I blinked back my tears, and when I opened my eyes, he was gone.
Hope and confusion grew in my heart as I headed back into the city. Hopeful, because it was true, Jesus was back from the dead, but confused because I didn’t understand what it meant.
I told the others what I’d seen, and that led to me being cross-examined in the same way that Mary had been. Some were doubtful, especially John, but some of the others were beginning to believe when Cleopas and his wife (another Mary) came back with their story. There was a sense of growing joy in the room when Jesus appeared right there with us. It was almost funny watching the reaction of the others as they worked through the same joy and fear that I’d felt a short while earlier.
I was as excited as the rest of them when he was with us on that occasion… and again a week later when Thomas was with us, and he appeared again. It was confusing but exhilarating, and, once more, we had hope for the future.
We weren’t sure what we should be doing next, we couldn’t just keep hanging around in Jerusalem. Mary remembered him saying that he’d meet us in Galilee, so we headed back home. The walk home, and the weeks that followed, gave me plenty of time to dwell on my failings and my mood went downhill again.
When Jesus had appeared to us in the upper room, he’d said, ‘As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.’ Then he breathed on us and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’
In that moment, I’d felt a warmth… a strong sense of God's glory and love and power. But afterwards, I was just left with a bigger sense of my own inadequacy. The idea that Jesus was sending me was… was terrifying. I had failed him more than any of the others.
When he was with us everything seemed possible again, but in the days and weeks that followed, all my doubts crept back in. All my shortcomings, all my failures kept going round and round in my head.
It had been incredibly comforting to see him, to get a glimpse of God’s glory again, but when he was gone, it was just us… just me… and I knew how weak I was.
I’d run away.
I’d denied him.
I wasn’t good enough.
I wasn’t brave enough.
I was a fraud…
I mean, I’d seen some incredible things since I’d followed Jesus, and even done some miracles of healing in his name. I knew that was all real, but… but underneath it all, I’d always felt like an imposter.
When the others talked excitedly about the resurrection and speculated as to what it might mean, I joined in with their enthusiasm. On the outside everything may have looked fine, but on the inside, I was dying. On the outside I was still brave, impetuous Peter… on the inside, I was cowering and uncertain.
All this was going on in my head, and that’s why I couldn’t think.
We’d split up when we’d come back to Galilee, and several of the others had gone to visit relatives. There were 7 of us still together at my house in Capernaum, and that night, all of their endless chatter and speculation just got too much.
I needed to get away from everyone and do something to distract myself. I stood up, said I was going fishing and headed for the door. I wanted to be alone, I was hoping for some space, but as I walked away they piped up, one by one, that they’d come with me. I couldn't exactly say no, because most of them were fishermen too.
At least the night air and the exercise cleared my head. I was able to lose myself a little in the familiar routines; in rowing out quietly, readying the nets, waiting patiently for a while for the fish to be less frightened of the boat, then throwing the net over the side and hauling it in.
Usually, I’d remove any fish that we caught, ready the nets again, quietly wait for a while and repeat the process. I say ‘usually’ because that night, we caught nothing. We changed location several times, moving to some of my favourite spots… spots that always gave you something, but that night there was nothing.
The Sea of Galilee is legendary for its huge fishing stocks, and catching nothing was almost unheard of. As we’d rowed out to that first spot, my mind had begun to clear. Now, empty net after empty net added to my frustration, and I was right back where I’d started. I wondered if the lack of fish was some judgement from God on my inadequacy. I know that’s nonsense now, but back then I was in a low place and started seeing everything that went wrong as some sort of divine punishment.
There was no point in carrying on fishing after it was light, so, after our fruitless night we started to row back to shore.
As we got closer to the shore, someone called out through the morning mist. ‘Friends, have you caught anything.’ I stopped rowing and looked over my shoulder and called back rather curtly that we hadn’t.
‘Cast your net over the right side of the boat.’ They shouted again, ‘You’ll find some there.’
My frustration boiled over, and I was about to let fly and tell this stranger that he didn’t have a clue about fishing… although it would not have been as polite as that. But the words stuck in my throat… I suddenly remembered the first time I’d been in a boat with Jesus, when he’d given me those same instructions.
I couldn’t move. I sat frozen on the spot as the others cast the net over the side and hauled in a catch like I’d never seen, even on my best nights.
‘It’s him.’ I thought, ‘Oh God, its him!’
Then John said it out loud, ‘It’s the Lord.’
Jesus was here!
I had to talk with him… I wanted to talk with him alone, I wanted to explain myself… tell him about my fears. I wanted to say I was sorry… but I couldn’t do that if the others were around, I couldn’t face letting them know what a failure I was.
I had to get there first, so, whilst the rest of them wrestled with the net, I quickly threw on my outer robe, dived over the side of the boat, and swam and waded to shore.
It was Jesus… it was just him and me on the beach… and suddenly I couldn’t think what to say, ‘It’s good to see you Lord’ I blurted out.
‘You were in a bit of a hurry to get off the boat.’ He said, ‘Why the rush? Were there some man-eating fish in that catch?’ He chuckled and then followed up with, ‘It’s good to see you too, Peter.’
My head was racing at that point, hardly hearing what he said. I was trying to work out how I would even begin to say what was on my heart. I remembered that he’d said I would deny him, so surely he knew I’d done that.
I expected some sort of rejection. I wanted him to raise my failure… to accuse me. I wanted him to be angry with me. I wanted him to rebuke me and send me away. I felt that was all I deserved.
But there was no anger in his face… Just warmth, a smile, and that familiar sense of sheer joy that radiated from him. He gave me an encouraging look… he must have known that I wanted to say something.
I opened my mouth to share what was in my heart… But when I saw the charcoal fire on the beach, I froze again. It was just like in the courtyard.
I couldn't bring myself to say the words. Now that I was next to him, I couldn't face telling him that I’d denied even knowing him three times. Just as he said I would.
So, I just laughed nervously and said, ‘Well, I had to know if it was really you Lord. That's why I rushed off the boat.’
I remember my heart sinking. That was it… the moment was lost. That was my chance to have opened my heart to him, the opportunity for me to have spoken with him alone. And I'd blown it again!
I remember just being so disappointed in myself, so frustrated at my inability to share openly. I tried again to summon the courage to say what I needed to say, but the words wouldn’t come. And suddenly, the boat was ashore, and the moment was lost.
‘Bring some of those fish.’ Jesus called out to the others behind me.
Moments before, I couldn't wait to speak to him… moments before, I’d been desperate enough to swim ashore to get there first and see him alone… and then… then I just wanted to get away from him. So, I eagerly went back to help with the fish.
When the others took the fish over to the fire, I hung back and counted the catch. That wasn’t necessary, but I just wanted to be away from all of the excited chatter that they were having with Jesus.
I knew I didn’t deserve to be there. I was not worthy to be one of his disciples. He may have chosen us, but he made a mistake with Judas… and he made a mistake with me. I delayed as long as I could, counting fish and messing around with the net. Finally, when I could find nothing else to do, I went over to join the group.
The fish were ready, and Jesus, in his familiar way, came and took the food from the fire, he gave thanks, broke the bread and gave some bread and fish to each of us. He looked at each of us in turn as he went round serving, but I couldn't even look him in the eyes as he gave me mine. The others chatted with him over the meal, but I sat in silence. I hated myself all the more for being unable to speak to him.
I was lost in a world of my own when suddenly I looked down and saw that Jesus’ feet were in front of me. I looked up. He smiled at me and said, ‘Walk with me, Simon.’
I got up and followed him, walking down the beach away from the others.
I thought, ‘Is this where he tells me I no longer belong? Is this where he tells me that I'm out and that I should stick to catching fish.’
I suddenly remembered, three years ago, we’d been on this very beach, after another miraculous catch, and I’d fallen on my knees before him saying, ‘Get away from me Lord, I am a sinful man.’… I’d been right. He should never have chosen me.
We walked in silence. I couldn’t think of what to say, and my mind was running away with itself, so I started counting the paces… 9… 10… 11… And suddenly he spoke.
‘Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?
Not his usual name for me; Simon was the name given by my parents. I rapidly weighed the tone of his voice… there was no condemnation, no accusations... just a warmth, a gentleness, and an openness.
A simple question… ‘Did I love him more than these?’
Did I love him?
There was a long silence as I thought about this. A few weeks before, I would have said without hesitation, ‘Of course I love you Lord. What sort of a question is that? I'd follow you anywhere and do anything for you.’
Now I knew that was just hollow boasting. Now I couldn't cover up my inadequacy with bravado. Now I knew I didn't love him like that. I’d proved it in the way that I’d run away and then denied him. I was weak, and fearful, and a useless disciple. He’d given us a new command, to love each other as he had loved us. I knew I couldn’t love like that. I couldn't dress it up anymore… I couldn't pretend I was something that I wasn't.
I looked down at my feet as I mumbled, ‘Lord, you know that… that I’m… I'm your friend.’
Then he said, ‘Feed my lambs.’
I wasn't expecting that… Didn't he know that I’d denied him? Didn't he know all the fears and failings inside me? Had he forgotten all of those many times that I'd messed up and got things wrong… and, especially, most spectacularly failed at the end, at the time when he needed me most. Didn’t he understand that this wasn't right, that I wasn't worthy.
I looked up to protest and saw that he had a finger raised as if to quieten me.
‘Simon, son of John,’ he said again, ‘Do you love me?’
I looked at him… and then looked away again. I knew I didn't. I could no longer do my usual bluster, so, this time more clearly, I said, ‘Lord, you know I'm your friend.’
He nodded and gently smiled and said, ‘Take care of my sheep.’ This time holding up two fingers.
‘Simon, son of John,‘ he said a third time, ‘Are you my friend?’
When he said that, it hurt… it hurt so much. I knew I couldn’t love like he loved, but he had changed my life. He’d seen things in me that no one else had seen. He'd given me hope like no other. He’d helped me so often. He’d picked me up when I’d failed… I would always be his friend.
My eyes filled with tears as I said, ‘Lord, you know all things. You know I'm your friend.’
He held up a third finger and smiled, ‘Feed my sheep.’
Three times… I suddenly got what he was doing. Three times I’d denied him, and he knew it. And he knew I couldn’t find a way to voice all that was going on in my head. I had denied him three times, and he was reinstating me as a disciple three times. He still believed in me.
I wept. I just wept. Huge sobs wracked my body whilst he just held me in his arms. He said some words about the future that I didn't really hear at the time (John was able to tell me afterwards because he was listening in behind!), but I do remember what he said at the end. As I gathered myself together, he stood back, held me by both shoulders, and he looked me straight in the eyes.
Then he said, ‘Now, you… You, follow me.’
He still believed I could be like him. That I could be Peter, the rock that he called me to be. I knew that I wasn’t there yet, that I had a long journey ahead of me… but if he believed… if he believed in me… then maybe one day I could be.
Thoughts/questions for reflection:
1. How did this story make you feel?
2. Were there things in the story that jarred, or resonated with you? Why is that?
At times we can all feel unworthy and uncertain about who we are, or how God might see us. Many people have doubts about whether they are worthy to follow Jesus, especially if they mess up repeatedly.
Why I love Peter so much is that throughout the Gospels, we never see Peter as a great ‘superhero’; he isn’t portrayed as an exemplary follower of Jesus. We see someone who frequently falls flat on his face, makes mistakes, and sometimes gets things spectacularly wrong.
And yet, every time, Jesus reinstates him, picks him up, and starts him back on the way again.
3. What does this show us about God?
Sometimes Christians have the idea that they must believe the right things, or behave in a certain way, to be acceptable to God, to earn his favour. But that’s what the Pharisees believed, and it’s not the image of God revealed in Jesus. The need to behave in the right way, or to believe the right things to be acceptable, takes us back to the ‘cycle of grief’ that we explored in chapter 3; that’s not the grace that Jesus came to bring.
4. What do you think of the view that you have to believe/do the right things to be acceptable to God?
In the end, Simon, son of John, the unschooled fisherman from Galilee, becomes Peter the rock. In the power of the Holy Spirit, he does some incredible things; praying and acting boldly in the face of persecution, sharing the good news everywhere he went, breaking new ground by being the first to take the Gospel into the house of a Gentile, and more. However, and this is important, Peter does not become the rock because he is the finished article. He never becomes the perfect leader; even after Pentecost, Peter still got things wrong[1]. And yet, God still works with him, and through him, as Peter helps to lead the early church.
When anyone responds to Jesus’ call to follow, they embark on a journey to becoming more of who God calls them to be. They never arrive; they are always unfinished articles. They make mistakes (sometimes bad ones), they take backward steps (sometimes frequently), and they mark time on the spot and stop growing for a season (sometimes many seasons)… but Jesus never gives up on them. When they are ready to hear it, he picks them up, dusts them off, and says, ‘Follow me.’ That’s what unconditional love is like; that’s the grace, forgiveness, and fresh start that God always offers.
5. The trouble with an unconditional, undeserved gift, is that it’s very hard to accept. Why do you think that is?
If God is so gracious and forgiving, how does ‘judgement’ fit in? Are there any consequences for behaving any way we like or for not believing in Jesus?
Jesus said, ‘And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.’ (John 3:19).
This verse helps us better understand Judgement as ‘cause and effect’, rather than ‘guilt and punishment’. God longs for us to come into the light of his presence, but his holiness terrifies us and we hide from him, fearing condemnation. In submitting to crucifixion, Jesus shows us the depths of humanity’s brokenness, and in his resurrection, God reveals just how vast his grace and forgiveness are. As Joy Moore[2] writes, ‘The crucifixion was the culmination of humanity’s acts of violence against God. The resurrection is the climactic demonstration of God’s unrelenting love toward humanity.’
6. Does this help shed some light on how there can still be judgement even though God’s love is unconditional?
I don’t know where you are at the moment in your walk with God, but I do know this… wherever you are, no matter how many times you have messed up, no matter how far you think you are from God…
God still believes in you, and Jesus has these words for you…
‘Follow me.’
A prayer to finish with:
Father, please help us to follow your Son
All too easily we can dwell on our weaknesses, our faults, our failings, our unworthiness… when instead we need to be dwelling on your compassion, and mercy, and forgiveness, and love.
Thank you that no matter how many times we fall, you come, pick us up again, believe in us, and help us to make a fresh start.
Help us to know that your grace covers our brokenness, help us to know that we are fully known and completely loved, help us, despite our fears of inadequacy, to step out in response to your call on our lives.
Help us every day to be vulnerable enough to receive the love and forgiveness you have for us, that we would grow in knowledge and in understanding of your love… and share that love with the world.
Help us to know that you believe in us… that you accept us just as we are, but know what we could be in your Son…
Help us to hear Jesus, as he calls our name, and whispers in our ear, ‘Follow me’
Amen
Ignatian imaginative contemplation on this passage
As before, the background and the story provide a window to help look at the passage imaginatively for yourself. If you want to go deeper:
1. Ask God to speak to you through the passage
2. Slowly read the Bible passage again
3. Visualise yourself as one of the characters, or as an observer. You might work through the whole passage, or just sit with a certain scene within it.
Pay attention to the details of the scene; what do you see, hear and smell?
Notice what you feel as you immerse yourself in the passage?
4. Again, ask God what he wants you to take away from this.
You might like to note any thoughts or feelings in a journal before moving onto the next chapter.
[1] see Galatians 2:11–13
[2] Joy J. Moore is the Professor of Biblical preaching, Luther Seminary, St Paul, Minnesota
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