“Jesus said unto him, ‘Verily I say unto thee, That this night, before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.’ Peter said unto him, ‘Though I should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee.’”
- Matthew 26:34–35.
The moon is full tonight, and the air is heavy with dread and silence as we walk through Gethsemane.
I glance at the other disciples, and their faces mirror mine with the same worry and fear.
Something has been up with Jesus recently, and we all know it, although we’re all too scared to admit it out loud.
Tonight’s Passover dinner was strange.
There was a sort of… finality in the air as we ate the bread and drank the wine.
Jesus’ words were even stranger.
We’re all used to the Master communicating to us through cryptic messages and parables, but tonight He spoke of something even stranger.
Betrayal.
He told us that one of us would betray Him to His enemies that night.
The other disciples and I were all shocked to hear this, and when each of us asked to know if it would be us, He did not answer.
There was also a strange moment that happened with Judas as we ate. Jesus told him to “do what you need to do, quickly”, and immediately, Judas left the house.
Nobody understood the exchange, but we all agreed that Jesus probably sent him to get the things that we needed for the festival.
Judas is in charge of our treasury, so the Master often sends him on such errands.
“Tonight”, He had said after we finished dinner. “After I’m betrayed and arrested, you will all abandon me.”
“Not me, Master!” I had replied to Him vehemently. “I would never leave you, even if everyone else does.”
The other disciples also echoed my sentiment.
That was when Jesus turned to face me. He looked me in the eye, and He said “Before the cock crows twice tonight, Peter, you will deny me twice.”
I shook my head, and I reaffirmed my commitment to follow Him, even to prison and to death, but I don't think I convinced Him that I was truly ready to follow him to the end.
“Beware, Simon,” was all that He said in response.
It made me so sad.
I have left my family, my boats, and my entire livelihood to follow Him and yet He still doesn’t have total confidence in me.
We have suffered with Him through public humiliations, hunger, and near-death attempts, and He still believes we're not ready to suffer even more.
I might not know the hearts of everybody else, but I know mine.
Even if the rest of His disciples deny Him, I would never ever do so.
After walking for a while, we reach a grove of olive trees, and Jesus stops us.
He gestures for me and the two sons of Zebedee, James and John, to follow Him deeper into the woods, and we do so.
We all walk in heavy silence until we reach an open space where the moonlight shines brightly from the clouds and through the trees.
When we stop again, Jesus turns to us, and the expression on His face is that of utter distress.
“Stay awake and pray,” He says, His voice grave. “Please, pray with me.”
There’s a deep sadness in His voice that makes my heart heavy with an aching discomfort.
What could the Master be so afraid of?
He leaves us alone and goes to kneel down at a rock. We can't see Him through the trees, but we hear Him groaning as He prays fervently.
It's a sound of utter agony as He wails and mumbles words that we do not understand.
Tears sting the back of my eyes, and I can't bear to listen to Him cries of sorrow.
Jesus is always calm and confident, even during troubled times, like that night we almost perished at sea, but tonight is… Tonight feels completely different.
It’s almost like something is about to happen to Him. Something that He has no control over. Something that scares Him.
It’s difficult to imagine what can make the Man who raises the dead be full of such anguish.
I try to join Jesus in prayer as He instructed, but I’m so exhausted.
Between setting up for the Passover and walking down here to Gethsemane, I’ve had a very long day. I fight to keep my eyelids open, to mutter a few words, but before I know it, I drift off into sleep.
I don’t know how long I’m asleep for, but I jolt awake to the Master tapping me with His foot.
“Why are you sleeping? Couldn’t you stay awake and pray with me for an hour?”
He’s sweating profusely, and I think I see something similar to drops of blood across His forehead.
He looks exhausted, and His facial expression is still sorrowful. Guilt creeps up my skin, so I avoid His gaze and look at James and John, who also look as ashamed as I am. I guess they must have fallen asleep too.
“If you don’t pray, you will fall into temptation,” Jesus says to us, His voice resigned. “But come now, the hour of my betrayal is here.”
We go back to join the other disciples, and The Master is still speaking to us when they arrive.
It's a group of about a hundred people, and they are holding torches and lanterns.
I recognise some of the people in the mob from the temple, and they are accompanied by soldiers who are armed with swords and knives.
The sight overwhelms the other disciples and me with fear gripping me, and we stand behind Jesus.
The earlier sorrow on His face is now gone, replaced by something I will describe as determination.
However, something catches His eye, and suddenly the Master looks hurt.
I trace his line of sight, and that's when I see him.
Judas Iscariot.
He’s leading the mob with that usual mischievous expression on his face, and he quickly walks over to Jesus and kisses Him on the cheek.
“Hail, Master,” Judas says with a wry smile.
“You betray the Son of Man with a kiss?” Jesus asks him, His voice calm.
Judas only smiles in response, and then he returns to stand in front of the mob.
“Who do you seek?” Jesus asks, His eyes searching around the crowd of people.
“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!” the crowd yells, almost in unison.
“I am He,” Jesus replies, stepping forward and stretching His hands forward.
Some soldiers grab Him immediately, and they drag Him along with them.
Jesus stumbles to the floor due to their aggressive heckling, and they only yank Him back up to His feet.
The other disciples and I watch the scene unfold before us in shock, each of us confused by what’s happening and not knowing what to do.
I look at the Master as He’s being led away. He doesn’t resist, and He doesn’t utter a word. He just bows His head down and lets them drag Him along.
Why won’t He fight them!? I scream to myself. He’s the Son of God!!
Suddenly, I'm filled with a burst of vengeful energy, and I pull out my knife and lunge for a man in the crowd.
I grab his head forcefully, and I slice off his right ear. He screams out in pain, clutching the right side of his head as he falls on his knees to the ground.
Some of the other disciples pull me back from the mob as some soldiers attempt to hold me.
“Enough! Put your knife away.” Jesus says firmly, looking at me with total disapproval. “Simon Peter, he who lives by the sword, will surely die by the sword.”
I look at Him, confused and hurt by His rebuke, but I obey His instruction, and I sheath my knife.
The young man I attacked is still on the floor, groaning in pain, but Jesus bends down to pick up his ear.
We all watch as He places it on the right side of the man’s head, and immediately the ear is healed and joined back to his head.
I hear a lot of audible gasps and murmurs come from the crowd.
“Why have you come at me with knives and swords like I’m some sort of criminal?” Jesus asks them. “Every day I was with you in the temples. Every day I was teaching, and yet you did not lay a finger on me. However, this is the time of darkness, and the scriptures must be fulfilled.”
He gestures to be led away, and He is once again dragged forcefully by the chains that have now been used to bind His hands.
The soldiers and the rest of the mob retreat out of the garden, their torches vanishing into the darkness and the sounds of their metal weapons fading into the distance.
I look at the rest of the disciples, and we are all in shock.
We all panic as we incoherently mumble and ask questions, but nobody makes any sense or provides any answers.
It’s total confusion, and in the midst of this, we all disperse into darkness.
One by one, we all run in different directions.
For me, I turn on my feet and run toward the direction of the mob.
I follow them at a close distance, and I watch as they lead Jesus to the house of Caiaphas, the High Priest.
I find my way into the courtyard of the house, and I stand by a fire to warm myself.
From where I stand, I can see into the house, and I can see the Master.
It looks like He’s being placed on some sort of jungle trial.
Many people enter the room, and they shout many things at Him, and although His back is turned against me, I can tell that He does not say a single word in response to these accusations.
The High Priest walks over to Him and begins to talk and shout, but the Master doesn't make any remark in response.
After a while, Jesus finally replies to him, and I don’t hear what He says, but I see Caiaphas shout in despair and tear his clothes.
Some others with him also tear their clothes, shouting and screaming.
I watch in horror as some of them slap Jesus and others spit on His face while mocking Him.
The sight is too much for me to bear, so I look away and move closer to the fire.
I notice that a servant girl is looking at me suspiciously, so I bend my head down low, hoping that she looks away, but she continues to stare at me with intent.
“Hey, I know you!” She says after a few minutes, pointing at me. “You were with the Nazarene. You were with Jesus.”
My heart starts to race as the people standing by the fire turn to look at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say to her firmly. “And I don’t think you do either.”
I leave them immediately, and I walk briskly to a corridor just beside the house.
Some people are standing there to watch Jesus’ trial, so I join them. We all stand in silence until the servant girl returns again, still staring at me determinedly.
She calls the attention of some people standing beside her, and she points at me.
“Look at him!” she says. “Surely, he's one of them. One of the Nazarene’s followers.”
More people start to look at me, and trepidation immediately fills my heart. I feel it start to race within me.
A small crowd is gathering, and they all talk in whispers as they stare at me.
“I do not know the man!” I say louder. “I am not one of his followers.”
I’m suddenly anxious.
There’s an unease in my heart, and my brain claws at a memory.
I desperately try to remember something, something important, but I can’t.
My focus is on the crowd before me, and they are looking at me with menacing looks in their eyes.
“You’re a Galilean! Your speech betrays you,” a man in the crowd shouts at me. “Surely, you must be one of them! You're His disciple!”
Many people in the crowd murmur in agreement, and their harsh tones get louder, and they keep their gazes fixed firmly on me.
“I do not know the man!” I yell in desperation. “I swear it! I don’t know the man! I’ve never seen him before! I’m not one of his followers! I do not know him! I don't know Jesus!”
Immediately I say this, a rooster crows loudly somewhere.
Then I remember.
I remember what He said.
“Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.”
My head darts quickly towards the house, and I look inside through the window.
Jesus turns to look at me, and He shakes His head slightly.
There’s sadness in His eyes.
I feel the weight of His disappointment as He turns back and looks away from me.
A piercing pain immediately tears through my heart.
“No”, I whisper silently. “No!”
I run out of the courtyard, holding my head in my hands and tears pouring heavily from my eyes.
He warned me.
He told me it would happen.
He warned me, but I did not listen.
I should have asked for strength, but instead, I got offended.
Jesus loves me.
He calls me Peter, the Rock.
He said He would build His church upon me.
And I betrayed Him.
I am a coward, a traitor!
I love you, Lord. I’m so sorry.
But the Master isn’t here, and I already denied even knowing Him.
I fall to my knees in the middle of the street, and I weep bitterly into my palms.
My shoulders shake violently as the anguish washes over me.
I feel so sad and empty. So hollow.
My faith has failed, and now I have nothing else.
I betrayed the only comforter I’ve ever had, and now I am all alone.
“Forgive me, Jesus!” I scream into the night sky, tears flowing down my face. “I’m so sorry, Lord!”
But there’s no response.
Only silence, and the sound of the roosters’ continued crows in the distance, mocking me.
Easy to judge Peter… but we might want to check ourselves and the way we live first…
You don’t always have to say “I don’t know Him” before you deny Him…
Happy Good Friday. ✝️❤️
A very good day indeed.
In case you’re not familiar with how the story ends, Jesus forgave Peter and then gave him a great assignment to fulfil.
Peter received mercy and strength to carry out his mission, and he did it with all boldness till he died.
Easter is all about God giving man a second chance and what a great privilege that is for you and I. 🧎
Oh, and I started a third publication btw:
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Viewing the story from Peter's lens made it entirely beautiful.
His guilt in Gethsemane, his arrogance at Jesus" statement, his guilt after betrayal, his humanity and Jesus' omniscience and everlasting grace🤍
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this😂❤️