Why is Friday Good?
In the Gospel accounts of the first Good Friday, I’m drawn to the parts about Peter. Maybe it’s because I’ve long identified with him on some level, and I’m sobered by his betrayal of the man who’d changed the trajectory of his life. It seems shockingly out of character, and I find it uncomfortable to absorb.
Because Peter wasn’t passive or afraid or a curious bystander when it came to Christ. Quicker than most, he recognized Jesus as the Son of the living God and lived like it mattered. You don’t ask Jesus to call you out of safety into deep, turbulent waters unless you fully believe he can save you when he does. And Peter did.
But this particular day…
Jesus is breaking bread and pouring wine. Revealing truth a bit confounding, he shares with his closest companions the time has come for him to be struck, and them to be scattered. Fittingly, Peter insists he won’t scatter, even if all else do.
And so emerges a glimpse into his now epic denial: reliance on self.
Jesus, heart heavy, asks his friends to pray with him. Peter, long on zeal but short on follow through, fell asleep.
Three times.
Alone in his pain, Jesus consoles. “The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.” The master teacher gives Peter the secret to remaining resolute; it’s spirit, not strength; Me, not you.
…
Later that evening, while waiting outside the court where Jesus was taken after his arrest, Peter warms himself by the fire. Those huddled alongside him begin to talk. A keen-eyed teenaged girl finally asks,
“Aren’t you a disciple of that man?”
Pulling his cloak a bit tighter Peter replies, ’No’.
“Surely you are?”
“I tell you, I am not.”
“But that accent...”
“I swear on my life, child! I don’t know the man. Now leave me alone.”
Three times.
Rooster crows, Jesus sees, Peter weeps.
This was his good Friday.
…
Sometime after that, a resurrected Jesus finds Peter early one morning back where their journey began - in a boat, fishing. Preparing breakfast together around a fire, I wonder if memories resurfaced of the first time they met, or if distance from their darkest hour permeated all? I wonder if Peter’s heart leapt the same as before, or if it beat more knowingly, when Jesus bid him come?
“Peter, do you love me?” Jesus seeks to bridge what fear has torn apart…
Stoking fire, appearing useful, Peter answers, “Yes, Lord, you know I do.”
“Peter. Do you love me?” he continues probing at the pangs of buried ache…
Staring hard at burning ember, feeling weight so hard to bear, “Yes, you know I do.”
“Peter, do you love me?” as his wounded hand extends, easing burden, shielding shame…
Peter lifts his head to look upon his Savior, resting full assured “Lord, you know all things, you know I do.”
Three times, a broken man reclaimed.
Each time, redemption for the lost and for the ones who’ve lost their way.
This is why Good Friday’s good.
~ elizabeth dougan
