Today we come to a story which has perhaps the most agreement between all four of the gospel writers. As you know, most stories are not found in all four gospels, but this one is. And, despite minor variations in details or perspective, the main thread is the same across the board in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. That is very interesting. Among other things, it tells me…that this story was deemed very important for the church. And for us.

If you are able, please stand for the reading of the gospel.

Reading: Luke 22:54-62

Since accepting the mark of the cross on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday, we have made two stops with Jesus on his journey. The first stop was in the Garden, where we found Jesus praying in great angst and fervor as he understood and accepted the costs of giving himself for others. The second stop was as Jesus was arrested and brought before a hurried trial with the Sanhedrin that screamed “injustice” at every turn.

So the Way of Jesus thus far has been through the agony of sacrificial prayer, and being on the receiving end of bitter injustice. Today’s story brings the deep disappointment of being abandoned by a close friend. Now, Luke is a master storyteller, and I want to give you three “pegs” to hold onto as we walk with Jesus: The fireside encounters. The crow of the rooster. And the intense look.

I. Fireside Encounters (denial)

As Jesus’ troubles with religious and later civil authorities mounted, and he was arrested and taken into custody and tried, we’re told that Peter followed at a distance. We talked about that on Wednesday night- we are having those special worship times at 7pm on Wednesday nights. Lurking at the back, Peter played it safe. He wanted to have it both ways- be close enough to Jesus to see what happened, but not put himself at risk. It’s an impossible task, because it seems either we follow Jesus closely or we don’t actually follow him at all.

Have you ever had a friend throw you under the wheels of the train? Just unexpectedly stab you in the back? I remember from years ago in business, a colleague whom I counted as a good friend decided to try and enhance his position in the company by going over my head to my boss with concerns he had never talked to me about. In the end it didn’t matter business-wise, but on a personal level I was just so shocked. After that I was mad. And finally after trying (and failing) to get him to talk about it, I was deeply disappointed. I just felt so let down.

Peter follows at a safe distance, but now that “safe space” is threatened. He is confronted by a servant girl who stares intently at him, recognizing him by the light of the fire and she says to anyone who will listen “This man also was with him.” To which Peter replies, with a lie so blatant it can catch us off guard: “I do not know him.”

I mean, it’s Jesus they are asking about. The Jesus that called Peter away from a fishing career, the Jesus Peter watched captivate large crowds and feed thousands, the Jesus Peter saw calm a storm and his own fears, the Jesus whom Peter saw transfigured on the mountain, the Jesus that had walked step by step with Peter over nearly three years, the Jesus Peter had recognized in a flash of inspiration like he’d never had before as God’s Messiah, the Jesus Peter had absolutely given his life to…it’s this Jesus that Peter talks about as he stares back at the servant girl and says the words: “I do not know him.” Bad memory. Terrible lie.

Let’s not get so lost in Peter’s story that we forget our own. Are we capable of this? Could we not come up with a list of the ways and places, the significant moments when Christ grabbed ahold of us, the commitments and re-commitments we have made to Jesus over the years, the times of sensing his near presence, BUT when confronted with a direct or uncomfortable question in some situation- like “how can you believe in a God who lets terrible things happen?,” or “I’m so tired of those Christians pushing their agenda,” we could say “I don’t know him.” Or say the same thing by remaining silent? Of course we could. Of course we do. This is intensely PERSONAL, is it not? “I do not know him.” Bad memory. Terrible lie.

A little time goes by, and Peter is confronted a second time around the fire. “You also are one of them.” One of them? One of those who has been following Jesus. The small group that was in the garden when Jesus was arrested. The band of brothers and sisters trooping around Galilee talking about the “ Kingdom of God.” You also are one of them. And Peter says “I am not.”

Ouch. First he denies his relationship with Jesus, then he denies his relationship with Jesus’ people. The church. In his case, he was afraid it would make him guilty by association. In our case…well, same thing I guess. After all, when someone or some part of Jesus’ church does something we don’t like or agree with or just seems downright wacky…like American Christians who go and stir up trouble in the Middle East because they think it will hurry along the Second Coming…who wants to be lumped with that?

There’s a big movement today of people who don’t want to identify anymore themselves as “Christians” (too much baggage), so they’d rather say “Christ follower.” Well that’s great…until the “Christ followers” have too much baggage and then we can just find a different label. The reality is, being “one of them” can be uncomfortable.

More time goes by, an hour this time, and Peter is confronted a third time. It’s fascinating that the story seems to move so slowly, given that it’s not many verses. There is time and space between each encounter. Peter has time to reflect, to think, to self-justify or self-condemn or whatever. I feel sorry for him. Do you know that feeling of knowing you were wrong about something and you have to sit and stew about it?

A friend of mine went to Jack-in-the-Box for lunch a couple weeks ago, which he never does, but on this one day he ended up there. As he was in line at the counter, he noticed a homeless man walk in to use the restroom. My friend was still in line when the man came back out and pulled out a bottle and helped himself to a free drink from the soda machine. Stole it. Other people in the line observed it, and my friend had a clear view but it was out of the sightlines for the people working there. My friend said he was sort of startled, then he felt he should do something but he didn’t. And that really bothered him. And as he sat and chewed over his lunch, he thought about it the whole time.

Peter has had some time to chew, but he doesn’t seem to have arrived anywhere because when he is confronted yet again, he says “I don’t even know what you are talking about.” Strike three. In baseball it means you are out. In Washington State law, it means they throw the book at you after three serious felonies. No more chances. In the space of a few hours around an outdoor fire at night, Peter has denied his friendship with Jesus, his membership among God’s people, and any connection of any kind with this kingdom of God movement he had given his life to. Strike three. Peter’s encounters by the fire mean failure.

II. Rooster

AT THAT MOMENT, literally while the words of denial were still coming out of Peter’s mouth, as it’s still dark but approaching dawn, the rooster lets loose. Now, I’d always heard that roosters crowing at dawn was something of an urban legend beyond fact, that roosters weren’t actually right on cue. But when we were on vacation, I woke up early and went running at 6am several mornings while it was still pitch black. Part of the run was through a very developed part of Maui with luxury hotels and manicured landscaping. Not a rural place in any sense. Every morning as I sleepily jogged along, I would get to a particular hedge next to the sidewalk by a shopping center of all things…and a rooster crowed just a couple feet away from me. Every time, I almost fell over I was so startled. It was loud!

To understand Peter’s rooster, we have to remember a conversation Jesus and Peter had earlier. Jesus was telling Peter and others that they would sit at table in His kingdom, and judge the twelve tribes of Israel. Suddenly he turns to Peter and says “Satan has demanded to sift all of you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your own faith may not fail; and you , when once you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”

In other words, Jesus has predicted that Peter will stumble, but then return. Peter, of course says “No, Lord, I’ll go right to prison or even death with you!” And Jesus says, “No, actually by the time the cock crows you will deny that you know me three times.” The rooster crowing is the piercing evidence for Peter that he has drawn far away from Jesus.

So Peter is interrupted in the middle of denying even knowing Jesus by the rooster crowing, and simultaneously- [we’re not sure exactly the physical layout, whether Jesus was being led somewhere, or whether he had been in earshot or eyeshot the whole time] but somehow at exactly that moment, “The Lord turned and looked at Peter.”

This is high drama. That’s all we know. The Lord turned and looked at Peter, and Peter suddenly remembers the earlier conversation.

What was in that look? It reduced Peter to tears. He wept bitterly. Luke tells us Peter wept by using words that were used in scripture mainly just when someone had died or when all hope was lost. When the servant girl stares intently at Peter, Peter evades her by lying. When Jesus looks intently at Peter, Peter weeps.

What was in that look from Jesus, do you think?

-I told you so? Seems out of character with Jesus.

-Condemnation? Again, seems inconsistent with how Jesus responds to things.

-Disappointment? That would be the most natural. It is a painful thing to have people you love turn their back on you.

- Sadness? I suspect. Sadness for the events unfolding. Sadness for Peter’s unfaithfulness. Sadness for Peter’s pain and angst.

But mostly, I suspect, that look had compassion in it. Compassion that encompassed disappointment and sadness but did not back away from Peter. Compassion. Why do I think that? Because in the end…Jesus’ faithfulness counts for more than Peter’s unfaithfulness. And that might have had something to do with Peter’s tears as well. To look in Jesus’ eyes and see compassion and forgiveness and a willingness to journey forward when he knows exactly how unfaithful or apathetic or small we have been- that could make a person cry.

This is a turning point in Peter’s life. Peter will go on from here. Peter’s tears, his torn up heart from coming face to face with his own weakness is a confession. Confession involves admitting what we’ve done and who we’ve been, repenting and turning around. By the time this same writer Luke tells the story of Jesus’ resurrection a few days later, Peter is one whom Jesus appears to.

By the time this same writer Luke starts the story of the early church, it is Peter who is witnessing, healing and leading others. And church legend would say that in the end, it would be Peter who would be arrested and executed, crucified upside down at his own request because he thought himself unworthy of sharing Christ’s death. This is not the end of Peter’s story by a long shot. It’s the beginning. When Jesus looks at Peter it starts him on the road back.

We left my friend mulling over his lunch at Jack-in-the-Box. He was bothered, he wished he had responded differently. He wished he had offered to buy the man lunch. He wished he had done something. But it wasn’t the end of the story. After he ate, my friend went up to the counter and told the cashier “I need to pay for another pop.” “No you don’t,” they said, “you bough a combo meal and refills are free.”

My friend insisted. “I sat and watched a homeless guy stealing pop from the machine and didn’t say anything. That makes me partially guilty of stealing as well. So charge me and then, at least technically, he’s no longer a thief but was here as my guest instead.”

As you can imagine, this conversation provided a fair amount of food for thought for the cashier…and for people behind him in line…and for my friend. And for me this week.

Jesus looked at Peter. Full of compassion. Changed his life.

I think Jesus looked at my friend at Jack-in-the-Box. Changed his life.

And I think it also changed the life of a homeless man who didn’t even know it, who went from “thief” to “guest.”

Jesus looks at us. Knows our denials, our bad memories, our terrible lies, our failures, our distancing from him, our lack of faith. And gives us His faithfulness. Jesus’ faithfulness counts more than our unfaithfulness. It changes our lives.