Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

The crow of the rooster fell like a death knell to Peter’s soul. His guilt-ridden, anguished eyes collided with Jesus’ gaze. One phrase from their previous conversation relentlessly repeated in his mind, “You’ll deny me. You’ll deny me. You’ll deny me.” (Luke 22:34, 54-61) His stomach clenched and rolled. He’d been warned. Jesus told him this was going to happen. His arrogance had made him believe it never could, yet here he stood. He should have listened, should have been prepared. 

Earlier that day Jesus issued a grave warning to Peter concerning the intentions of the evil one. The devil is gunning for him. Similar to approaching God for permission to torture Job, the evil one once again queued up and asked to torment Peter. He wants to bring him down, tear him from the faith, drive him away from Jesus. Apparently, God said, “Do your worst.” And Jesus, knowing not only what was coming, but the state of Peter’s heart, said, “I have prayed that your faith will remain intact. Even after you stumble, repent, turn back to me, and feed my sheep.” (Job 1; Luke 22:31-32)

Deeply hurt and offended by the declaration of his impending defection, Peter indignantly declares it will never happen! He’s going through with Jesus. Prison. Persecution. Perishing. He has no intention of denying their association. He’s not going to retract his friendship. He’s committed for the long haul! 

Jesus knows otherwise. He knows that within hours Peter’s internal fortitude will fail. His humanity will eclipse his spirituality. He will fall. He will deny knowing Jesus. He will reject the idea he is one of His disciples. He will declare himself an ignorant onlooker. The rooster would crow, an irreverent reminder of Jesus’ words, “Before the rooster crows, you will have denied me three times.” (Luke 22:33-34; 54-61)

And so it was. As the final words of cowardly denial sprang from Peter’s lips, the rooster crowed, and, according to the Luke account, Jesus turned and looked at Peter. I wonder what was in that look. Knowledge. Compassion. Understanding. Forgiveness. As Peter met His gaze, Jesus’ prediction broke across his memory. His world crashed down around him. He had done it. He had failed to keep his vigorous pledge of persistence. Denied Jesus. Rejected His Lord. Overcome with self-loathing, guilt, and dismay Peter left that scene, went out, and wept bitter, anguished tears. (Luke 2:54-62)

The current colloquialism is “ugly cry”. I imagine it accurately sums up this moment in Peter’s life. My mind imagines a full grown man doubled over sobbing loudly, face red and scrunched, uncaring what anyone thought, so deep was his grief. As the tears subside, the mental castigation begins. Peter certainly must have wished he’d prayed instead of slept while in Gethsemane. His behavior was inexcusable. After promising, loudly, to follow Jesus forever, he’d denied His Lord. Sky castles of ultimate faithfulness in the face of imminent dangers were shattered by a pitiful, unforgettable lack of courage. Dejected. Disgraced. Distraught. The next logical step in the evil one’s plan was discouragement. 

Really, what would be the point in continuing to associate with the other, more reputable disciples? Clearly, their faith was deeper, stronger, more reliable than his own. They hadn’t verbally, vehemently defected. Not even once. Certainly not three times! Why go back now? Why try to make amends? It was over, right? He’d failed. He was done. Written off. Refused. Rejected. The evil one presses harder, whispers louder. God isn’t interested in defectors, right?

Wrong. God is absolutely interested in defectors. Deniers. Decriers. Deceivers. The disgraced, dejected, distraught, discouraged. God is absolutely interested in everyone. He does not allow the evil one to plague you while He turns His back and plays with kittens. How could He? Jesus is constantly interceding on our behalf, consistently lifting our needs to the Father’s throne before we even know we have needs. Before we find ourselves on the brink of self-destruction, Jesus has prayed for that moment. He has prayed that your faith in God’s ability to redeem your life will be stronger than the fear and discouragement the evil one is trying to slather over your soul. (Romans 8:26-27, 34; Matthew 6:8)  

See, we really aren’t so unlike Peter. Our humanity regularly wars with our spirituality. So often, our words and actions, thoughts, and motives loudly deny any association with Jesus Christ. Frequently we choose to be swept along with the crowd, do what the world is doing, rubber-stamp the rhetoric because our traitorous hearts don’t care to shoulder the onslaught of dissent. Commonly we walk the path of least resistance with its wide lanes and beautiful scenery, rather than trudge the narrow road of righteousness. (Matthew 7:13-14) Oh, yes. We are very much like Peter. 

Just like Peter, the evil one is waiting to trip us up. He is hiding around every corner, behind every bush, in the bottom of every valley, at the end of every wrong turn. He lurks there touting a message for quitters. “You might as well turn back. You failed.” He’s wrong, of course, the father of lies has no other option. It’s impossible for him to tell the truth. But he’ll be perched there, wearing that white robe and helter skelter halo, and we’ll pause for a moment thinking maybe he’s right. He’s not. (John 8:44; II Corinthians 11:14)

Your alleged failure was a momentary blip. It does not define you. Your eternity need not be decided by that singular moment in time. You do not need to turn back. There’s no need for continual self-recrimination. There is still grace, mercy, forgiveness in Jesus. Weep, repent, straighten things out with God, but don’t ever let your faith fail. 

Peter didn’t. He didn’t waste time getting squared away with God concerning His denial. He was there to see the empty tomb. At the seaside breakfast, Peter was completely restored and commissioned by Jesus. He got to endure all those things he promised Jesus he’d go through with Him. Persecution. Prison. Perishing. He never defected again. His faith stayed intact. How could it not? It was forged in the furnace of failure. (John 20:1-10, 21:1-19; Acts 4)

Sometimes our failures loom larger than life around us. They cloud our vision, seem insurmountable. Forgiveness we’ve withheld. Anger we’ve been coddling. Cowardice we’ve been hiding. Maybe you have a secret sin. Something no one knows about. No one but God. Maybe it brings you to tears. Maybe it seems too persistent, too hideous, too egregious for repentance and change. Perhaps the father of lies has told you to turn back, you’re finished. Stranded on the sandbar of failure, you are tempted to believe God is no longer interested in your disgraced soul. You couldn’t be more wrong.

As meticulously as He created the universe, God also created a plan for the moments when our humanity trumps our Christianity. His perfect plan is that we don’t sin. We should strive for that. Live every day as close to that as possible. But for moments like Peter’s denial and your defection, He has made a way for humanity to be rectified to the Father. Jesus Christ is your atonement for every shaky moment, every waiver of your faith, every all-out failure. He is your Advocate, your Lawyer, your forgiveness. Your faith in Him is never misplaced. (Genesis 1; I John 2:1-2)

Discouragement is one of the evil one’s greatest tools. He’ll stack up your list of failures (forgiven or not) and tell you it isn’t even worth trying to follow Jesus. He’ll beat on your soul from every side until you feel worn out, washed up, defeated. But Jesus is praying for you. Praying for your faith, no matter how meager, to take hold of what you know about the heart of God. His goodness. His grace. Grasp that knowledge with both hands, firmly rest your faith in God and be reconciled to go and do great things for the Kingdom. Your failures do not define you, but the faith you forge from them does. (Psalm 145:8; Ephesians 2:4; Nahum 1:7; Psalm 86:5)