“Peter said to him, ‘Even if I have to die with you, I won’t disown you.’ And all the disciples said the same” (Matthew 26.35).
After sundown, after midnight they came for him. Guards armed like they were about to take down an armed and violent man. A group of them: as though just one of them alone couldn’t have grabbed him, bound him with barely breaking a sweat. And Peter, who swore to die before disowning his friend, followed them back at a distance.
Warming himself by the fire outside, Peter was probably wrestling with himself. Should he go in there, attempt to rescue Jesus? No, there’s no way he’d get him past the guards. Maybe he could go in and call the proceedings for what they were: a sham.
But about that time, strangers come toward the firelight. They say hello, he says hello back to them. Someone catches his accent, asks him if he’s associated with that man in there. Someone else says, yeah, I thought you looked familiar. You were with him the other day. Finally, a last stranger looks and says I think you’re right. He’s one of those with that Jesus guy.
Denial. Denial. Foul-mouthed, yelling denial. And the morning sun broke over the horizon.
It’s easy to criticize Peter. He was not only one of the Twelve, he was in the trio that were closest to the Anointed One. He’d seen the transfiguration. How, in this moment, could he be such a coward.
Peter is the only one of the disciples we’re specifically told is married. Likely, there were others that were as well, but Peter is the only one whose home life we get a glimpse into. He has a wife, maybe kids; though, there’s no mention of them. And his wife’s mom lives with them, probably widowed. There could be pets as well, but there’s no explicit mention of them.
Paul, in one of his letters, writes that it’s better for folk to remain single. I often wonder if he had Peter in mind when he penned that. Having met the man, I imagine he got a sense how much more difficult the role of an Apostle—one who goes out and discomforts the comfortable—is when you have a family to think about.
Reading Peter’s declaration above, I thought about this fact: that he had a family at home. It changed, for me, the scene beside the fire when the questions were coming. I realized that this wasn’t a coward or betrayer. But, instead, he was conflicted.
Leanne and I have been together for a quarter century. She’s the love of my life, and my first and last thought each day. And I am responsible for her (and she for me): for her safety, her protection. I probably can’t fight off an attacker of any size, but I live and choose in such a way that means we have a roof over our heads and food on our table. And, certainly, I want never to put her in danger.
Husband to husband, I have a feeling Peter, as those questions about his association with Jesus began coming, started thinking not about himself, but about his wife, her mom, their cats. Yes, he wanted to declare that he was not only with Jesus but that he believed him to be the Anointed One. But he knew what that meant. It meant prison, at best, death worst case. It meant guards, like the ones that night in their black SUV and their body armor, breaking down their door, taking his family.
And, in a split second, he chose to protect them. Can’t say I would have done any different.
But there’s someone else we need to talk about who isn’t in this scene, who may have been able to make a difference. Above, at the end of the verse, ten other guys said that they too would follow Jesus to death. And every one of them disappeared when the headlights lit up the night.
Would it have made confessing to a relationship with Jesus easier had Peter not been alone? Possibly. Did their absence made it even more difficult? Certainly.
In that moment, Peter had no idea what was going on with the remaining ten disciples. Had they gone into hiding? Would they point fingers and name names when the guys with masked faces came to talk to them about their associations? Would any of them take care of his family?
I cannot say what I would do in that sort of situation. I can’t say what I would do in these United States if I was confronted with an ultimatum that meant compliance or putting my wife, her mom, my dad, our brothers and sisters, and our cats in danger. I would like to have the courage to say no when the State says yes. But one doesn’t know.
What I do know is that such a decision could be made easier if it were made with the knowledge that someone would take care of them. What that might look like varies. It may just be someone sitting with them in their grief. It may mean, if a person has the wherewithal, getting them someplace safe.
That means, of course, that I have to be willing to do the same for the people around me. What I can offer in such a situation, I fear, is not much. But if me, and someone else, and maybe eight other people will be there, maybe someone else in the firelight, in the darkness before dawn can do the hard thing.
And say yes, I know him.
Jesus, we want to live and act in faithfulness to you and to the Reality of God you taught us about, but we cannot do it alone. Give us the courage and love to be there with and for those facing their moment of decision.