In the spot where the coals burned again, releasing that painful scent… the one that in a moment had him back in front of another coal fire… at Caiphus’ house… cussing at a servant girl and being shattered by a rooster’s crow…
Where the rugged fisherman, dripping wet and hurting more deeply than I can imagine, was asked to try again after one of the most gut-wrenching failures ever endured by man…
Where he was reminded that he was to love God, not be the best… where “Peter, do you love Me?” fell as the harshest rebuke on humbled ears…
Where every “the great and mighty Peter” image in his mind came crashing down and became for him an object of disgust…
In this place we have erected glossy images of larger-than-life spiritual leaders and declare the importance of Peter among the other apostles.
His place of greatest humiliation. And we use it to mark his “primacy”.
I think it would make him mad. It makes me mad. In a place of such raw weakness and such nakedness before the resurrected eyes of Jesus Whom we have utterly failed… in a place where grace sears like hot coals on the wounds caused by the long fall from our own lofty, self-glorifying expectations…
In this place of painful humility… the point of admission that we can do no more than love God… and hardly even that…
In this place we glorify man?
Such nonsense.
And it breaks my heart. Indignant is the word. How have we missed it by so much?
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