Thursday 9 April 2020

Thursday 9 April

Somehow I got thinking about Peter this week. St Peter, if you prefer. Tim had told a story about fishing with local fishermen off the coast of Benin (you can find the story here). It made me think about all the times Peter must have fished all night and barely caught anything but how, even exhausted, he would still go out again if Jesus asked him.

If I had to call it, I would say Peter was an 'eight' on the Enneagram. It wasn't just that experience had made him strong and self-reliant. He was also a natural initiative-taker, decisive and always prepared to jump into things boots first. Sure, it made him act first and think later, but he had a boldness and a willingness to lead that made a way for others to follow. For all his annoying contrariness, I think I would have loved Peter. And after three years living alongside him, I think Jesus adored him (with the occasional eye roll reserved for his more outlandish moments, like that time with the sword and the ear).

It's not at all surprising that Peter would vigorously insist that he was prepared to stay shoulder-to-shoulder with Jesus, even if it meant giving his life for the cause. And when he said it, he meant it with every ounce of his sturdy fisherman's heart. So why did Jesus tell him that he wouldn't manage to go a day without denying him? It couldn't have been to shame him. It wasn't coming from self-pity. I have a feeling that Jesus was setting Peter up for perhaps the most important moment of self-revelation of his life.

You see, we all have to see ourselves. Really see.

The strong, self-reliant types can go a long way under their own steam. It takes a lot of squeezing, a lot of stretching for them to come to the end of their own capacities. Believe me, I know. So when they do finally run into the wall of their own limitations and needs, they really crash hard.

Peter crashed into the truth that the strength of his personality, his experience, his reputation, his capability - none of it was going to be enough to save him. It wasn't adequate to depend on. In his great love for him, Jesus set him up for this moment of realisation. Oh, it's so painful, it makes us squirm. We run away from it if we possibly can. And yet this can be the place of our greatest freedom: when we come to realise that we too - me and you - we need a Deliverer to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.


Caravaggio captures the moment of Peter's choosing in this painting. Here Peter is faced with accusation, we see those pointing fingers and, although he is not a naturally fearful man, he is afraid. In a flash, Peter is confronted by his strong instinct to preserve his own life, even at the expense of others. This self-preservation is stronger than his desire to give his life away. Anyone else feeling that surge of self-preservation in these days, that would prevent us from living generatively towards others? Peter chooses to deny his own values in an attempt to save himself.


This painting reflects the time after his decision (can anyone identify the artist?). We see here the sinking of the spirit, the shame and disappointment. This is where Peter runs into the wall of his own truth and feels himself screeching to a standstill. His abilities are not enough, his experience of Jesus is not sufficient. Who has not felt this horrible desire to hide, this inner accusation that gives the lie to all one's hopes of what the future might look like. Think you can be a leader? Think you are one of Jesus' closest friends? You couldn't even get this right. You've blown it!

Consider Jesus at this point. He always knew the truth about Peter, it was only Peter who needed to see it. And Jesus isn't gloating, or nursing some personal sense of betrayal. He is filled with compassion for Peter and a desire for him to keep moving forward, through and not around the shame, towards what will be his true salvation. For that to happen, he has to first be in this awful place of self-revelation, to fully grasp that his liberation could never come from himself.

I don't know about you, but I feel at times set up in the way Peter was. Here we are, confined to our homes. We are either alone, which is hard in its own way, or most likely with some of the people who know us best. We are under pressure, we are bored. We are afraid of what the future might look like and how things will change. We feel insecure. All this is the perfect crucible, putting the heat under us until some of the ugly stuff rises to the surface.

Thought you were free of that old lie? Assumed you'd grown beyond that old pattern of reaction? I'm betting that any old triggers lying under the surface are rearing their heads about now.

I have good news for you. The place where we really see ourselves need not be a sinkhole of shame. It can instead be the very place from which we step towards the invitation of the Saviour. The fact that we are not enough to save ourselves, to be our own deliverer ... God, we hate it. But that's actually the whole point.

I love that phrase out of the letter to the Hebrews: See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God. Make sure that no one misses the point, of God's generous desire and insistence on doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves. Be certain that everyone realises that the very lack they find in themselves is met and lifted by the empowering presence of the Spirit of God. Who enables them to be who they were made to be, but couldn't possibly be under their own steam.

Ted Loder puts it like this: "Open me to the insistent abrasiveness of your grace, for I often trivialize love by abandoning the struggles which accompany it joys, and rejecting the changes which lead to its fulfilment."

Maybe, even in these crazy Covid-Easter times we will find Jesus preparing a meal for us on the beach, reminding us that we crashed into the wall for a reason. This insistent abrasiveness is teaching us something oh, so important. And yes, the whole of who he is is available for us right where we are.


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