The words rushed over him like a rogue wave, knocking him off balance and carrying him into waters he had no desire to tread. He wasn’t sure how to respond. In his three years of travels with Jesus, he’d heard a million words and a thousand voice inflections. Compassion. Frustration. Exasperation. He’d seen Jesus angry as He cleansed the temple. Heard His sadness as He mourned the spiritual state of His people. Listened to His love as He encouraged people to find rest for their souls in Him. None of those moments sounded like this. The tone was different. Warning laced with hope. It grabbed Peter’s attention and set off his alarm bells, but it didn’t alter his penchant for the impetuous. (Matthew 11:28-29, 23:37-39; Mark 11:15-18)
Jesus clearly had the wrong guy. It sounded like Jesus was implying Peter was going to fall away from the faith and turn away from following Jesus. Yeah. No. That wasn’t happening. Peter would never do that. He was going the distance with Jesus. Every. Single. Step. Accusations. Imprisonment. Punishment. Death. Peter wasn’t going to leave Jesus’ side. He wasn’t going to betray Him, deny Him, defy Him. There would never be a moment when he wasn’t following hard after God. Never. Not in this lifetime. Peter said so. But Jesus knew differently.
It was the reason He issued the warning in the first place. Satan was gunning for Peter. He wanted to beat and shake and toss Peter like proverbial wheat. He wanted to challenge his faith. Test his resolve. Shake his soul. And God wasn’t planning to stop him. As risky as it was given Peter’s history of impulsivity, God would allow the tests to come. This was Peter’s warning. Terrifically difficult spiritual times were coming. He would struggle. He would falter. He would fail. But. Jesus was praying for him. Praying that he wouldn’t completely abandon his faith. Praying that, even if he got off course, even if he leapt before he looked, even if his words left the blocks before his brain sounded the starting blast, Peter would come back. Back to God. Back to a place of repentance and reconciliation. Back to the faith that could carry him through every storm of life. And once he was back, Jesus prayed he would strengthen the faith of others. (Luke 22:31)
Quickly, in his normal rash fashion, Peter assured Jesus he was ready for the test. So ready. He was robust and resilient. He was poised and prepared. He was alert and aware. Nothing could catch him off guard. Nothing would make him turn aside or away from following Jesus. His faith may have wobbled in the past, but it was iron-strong now. He was going all the way. He wouldn’t leave Jesus’ side. Ever. If Jesus would allow Him to go along to the place He said Peter couldn’t go right now, the space Jesus was preparing for them in eternity, Peter was absolutely up for it. “Let’s go, Jesus. Right now. You and me. I’m here for all of it!” (John 13:36-38, 14:3)
In a quiet voice, reverberating with sad resolve, Jesus broke the hard truth to Peter. It wouldn’t go down that way. In a few short hours, when the world he knew exploded into chaos, when people came to haul Jesus away to a ridiculous excuse for a trial, beatings, and a gruesome death on a rough-hewn cross, Peter would crack under the pressure. He would fall apart, aside, away. Before sunrise, when the rooster crowed to wake the world, Peter would deny even being acquainted with Jesus. At all. Not once. Not twice. Three times. But Jesus was still praying for him. (Luke 22:33-34)
Knowing Peter would vehemently deny Him, violently disclaim Him, vociferously dismiss their association, Jesus still prayed for him. Prayed the devil wouldn’t win the war. Prayed that Peter wouldn’t allow this failure to define his future. Prayed that his faith, the little mustard seed planted in the depths of his soul, would bring him back to the way of God. Prayed that, although he had not completely withstood the test, although he had made a mess of things, although he was obviously a work in progress, Peter would return in repentance and reconciliation and use his experiences to strengthen the faith and determination of those around him.
Standing in the courtyard vigorously contesting his acquaintance with Jesus, Peter was shocked to hear the rooster call his announcement of another day. Across the crowd, their eyes collided. Jesus’ saddened look with Peter’s agonized gaze. The world seemed to slow and crash to a halt around Peter. What Jesus said would happen had, indeed, occurred. Peter had done the thing he vowed not to do. He had failed in the face of temptation, trouble, trial, and torture. Unable to stand the thought of his magnificent failure, unwilling to watch the impending horror unfold, Peter turned on his heel and fled.
There is no record of where Peter’s flight ended. Maybe he only made it to the corner of the next building. Maybe he hid in an alley. Maybe he fled the entire way to Gethsemane, where Jesus admonished them to watch and pray so they wouldn’t fall prey to temptation. It isn’t important. Where Peter went doesn’t matter, what he did there does. Peter wept. Bitterly. Wretchedly. Agonizingly. In distress and regret, self-recrimination and spiritual flagellation, Peter fell to the ground, buried his face in his knees, and sobbed. He hadn’t meant to do that. Had no intention of failing. Didn’t think he had the capacity. He intended to follow Jesus to death. As long as it was a theoretical future event. He hadn’t actually thought it would happen. The reality was so much scarier than he realized it would be. The ramifications of admitting association with Jesus were enormous. Faced with the very real choice of life or death, Peter forgot all the miracles Jesus had done. He forgot the omnipotence of the Father. He allowed the fear to capsize his faith. And he regretted it.
Kneeling there alone, shaken and shattered by his own failures and shortcomings, Peter wept out his grief and shame to God, finding reconciliation with the Father through the prayers of Jesus the Son. Prayers Jesus had been praying for Peter long before Peter even recognized his need for them. Deep, urgent beseeching of God for his soul. Moaning and groaning, tears and pleading, begging that Peter’s faith, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant, wouldn’t completely shrivel up and die. Prayers that in spite of the trials and temptations barrelling Peter’s direction, he would find that little seed of faith in the depths of his soul and stand on it. Build his spiritual house around it. Prayers that Peter, washed up in a storm of life, would come out swinging, growing in faith and grace to be a spiritual powerhouse through which Jesus could and would begin building his church. (Matthew 16:18)
I don’t know about you, but I take great comfort in this thought. Jesus is praying for me. Not just speaking quick words as He runs off to monitor the most recent global crisis. No. He’s spending time in prayer for me. Serious prayer. Urgent, desperate intercession. He is on His knees before the Father. His words come out in a nearly indecipherable groan. Tears flow down His face. His heart is laid bare before the Father begging for what I need. Not my wants. Not the tiny things my microscopic mind desires. Not what I hope He will give me. The prayers of the Son to the Father are so much more than that. Through the wide lens of God’s future view, Jesus looks at the entire picture of my life and knows exactly what I need for my crisis today and my faith in the future. His prayers are for God’s will to be done in my life, to strengthen my faith, and encourage my heart. As I endure the trials and testings of life, as I am pounded and tossed like the ancient grains of wheat, as the evil one does everything in his power to steal my heart away from God the Father, Jesus the Son is praying for me. Praying that my faith will not fail.
Friend, there is no thought more precious. Jesus thinks about you. Constantly. He sees your future. Acknowledges the trials, troubles, and temptations that are already lining up against you. He notices every little thing that has the ability to knock you down and the capacity to keep you there. And Jesus is praying about them, over them, around them. For you. It won’t stop the storms. They are coming. Life is made up of them. But Jesus is praying for you. Praying that when those times come, when everything spins out of control in every part of your life, that your faith will be robust enough to weather the storm. He’s praying that when trials knock you down, you’ll get back up. He’s praying you will share your faith with others, encouraging them to keep going when things look bleak and they want to quit. He’s praying you’ll remember these things: You may be down, but you aren’t out. Your faith may wobble, but it doesn’t need to fail. Your strength may wane, your heart fail, your flesh struggle, but you are not alone. When words fail you, when your thoughts won’t line up, when it seems your faith is beyond repair, do not give up. Jesus has been praying over this exact moment your entire life. And He is still praying. For you. (Romans 8:26-27, 34; Hebrews 7:25; I John 2:1; John 17; Psalm 34:17-18, 73:26, 139:17; I Peter 4:12; Hebrews 10:35; Acts 14:22; Galatians 6;9; II Chronicles 15:7)