Failures

Then Jesus said to them, "All of you will be made to stumble because of Me this night... I will strike the Shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered. But after I have been raised, I will go before you to Galilee." Peter answered and said to Him, "Even if all are made to stumble because of You, I will never be made to stumble." Jesus said to him, "Assuredly, I say to you that this night, before the rooster crows, you will deny Me three times." (Matthew 26:31–34)

When you've said the thing that can't be unsaid and failed the One you loved—the risen Christ calls you by name anyway.

The Weight of Words That Can't Be Unsaid

There is a diagnosable condition called complicated grief. It is often caused by one of many people's worst fears: that in a moment of anger, in the heat of passion, they say an unkind thing to someone—a sibling, a child, a parent, a spouse—without realizing it is their final exchange. The normal grief of loss is compounded by the fact that those last words were heavy and hurtful.

Someone says, "You'll never amount to anything," or, "I wish I'd never met you." Hours later a phone call comes: "I'm sorry, there's been an accident," or the doctor says, "We tried our best, but it was a massive heart attack." The normal sorrow of sudden loss is complicated by words that can't be unsaid, things that can't be undone, and the absence of any chance to say, "I'm sorry." A mother's last words to her seven-year-old son—"You don't need a lifejacket, you're a big boy, you can do this"—rang in her ears for years.

Sometimes loss comes so suddenly there is no time to prepare. But the result is always the same. People say, "If I had only known it would be the last time I'd see them, I would have done it so differently." We are not always given that opportunity.

Three Years on the Road With Him

They had spent more than three years with Him, going everywhere He went, logging hundreds of miles, mostly on foot. As they walked, He talked—sometimes about strange things, sheep and shepherds, planting seeds, and they would wonder what He meant. But when He spoke of the kingdom of God, they lit up and hung on every word. They watched Him intently and emulated Him. They ate together, laughed together, prayed together. Sometimes they would wake and He'd be gone, off in a solitary place, and they'd say, "Come back, the multitudes are looking for You."

They traveled with Him from Galilee down to Jerusalem, sixty miles or more, as crowds gathered for the holidays. Everywhere He went He drew a crowd, and this small group of men was always at His side. They loved it. They loved Him.

Something Had Changed

On this most recent journey to Jerusalem, His tone changed. He became more candid, more direct, more specific—as if He were on a mission, and He spoke that way. In some ways it was as if He was saying goodbye, preparing them for a goodbye. But that's not what they were hoping for. The crowds following Him were bigger than ever, and there was a sense in the air that something was different.

Then He started saying the strangest things: "We're going to Jerusalem, and I'm going to be betrayed, arrested, condemned to die." So strange was it that one disciple pulled Him aside and rebuked Him openly: "Far be it from You, Lord. This will not happen to You." And yet everything in His demeanor indicated that things were different.

The Upper Room

The most celebrated of the feasts arrived. He had told His disciples to make ready, and as He sat down with them that Thursday night He said, "With fervent desire I have desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer." The mood was different. He did things He had never done before—He got up and washed their feet, and one disciple protested that this wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Then He broke bread and said, "Take, eat; this is My body, which is broken for you. Do this in remembrance of Me." He took a cup and said, "This is the blood of the new covenant. This do, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me." And then He said, "Assuredly I say to you, one of you is going to betray Me." It was as if all the oxygen was sucked from the room. Why would anyone betray Him? They had watched Him day and night for three and a half years—a man of no malice, who walked in meekness, who never double-crossed anyone. They were so amazed that they each began to ask, "Is it I?"

One of them, Judas, had to feign shock so as not to reveal he had already begun the betrayal. But they all asked it. He never gets upset—even when multitudes press in, even when children come to Him, even when His disciples want Him to send the people away, He never gets irritated. Why would anyone want to betray Him?

"I Will Never Stumble"

Then it was compounded further. Jesus said, "All of you will be made to stumble because of Me this night, as it is written: 'I will strike the Shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.' But after I have been raised, I will go before you to Galilee."

And Peter—the same one who had said, "Lord, You can't wash my feet," the same one who had said, "Far be it from You, Lord"—answered, "Even if all are made to stumble because of You, I will never be made to stumble." Jesus said, "Assuredly, this night, before the rooster crows, you will deny Me three times." Peter answered, "Even if I have to die with You, I will not deny You." And so said all the disciples.

For some reason, every time Jesus told them He would rise again on the third day, they never seemed to grasp it. They caught only that He would suffer, that one would betray Him, that they would stumble, and that Peter would deny Him—and Peter insisted there was no way.

Gethsemane

Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane. They crossed the Kidron Valley and began to go up the Mount of Olives. He said, "Sit here while I go and pray over there," and He took Peter, James, and John. He began to be deeply distressed and said, "My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch with Me."

He went a little farther, fell on His face, and prayed, "O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will." He came back and found them asleep. "Peter, could you not watch with Me one hour? Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." A second time He prayed and found them sleeping. A third time He prayed the same words and returned: "Are you still sleeping?"

In that moment a rush of people came into the place, led by Judas Iscariot—one who had been with them when Jesus calmed the storm, walked on water, fed the multitudes; the one who carried the money bag. He walked up and kissed Jesus, a normal greeting, and they laid hands on Him. Then Peter drew a sword. He couldn't stay awake to pray, but now he would defend the Lord. Wisely, he didn't go after the armed Roman soldiers; he cut off the ear of the high priest's servant. And Jesus rebuked him, healed the man's ear, and said, "Stop."

Failure Compounds Grief

If that were the whole story—if Peter had failed to watch, failed to pray, failed to defend the Lord, and been rebuked—and then Good Friday came, you can be certain Peter would experience complicated grief: "Why couldn't I just stay awake? Why couldn't I stand up for Him?" But that's not all the story.

Luke continues: "Having arrested Him, they led Jesus and brought Him into the high priest's house. But Peter followed at a distance." As they kindled a fire in the courtyard, Peter sat among them. A servant girl looked intently at him and said, "This man also was with Him." He denied it: "Woman, I do not know Him." A little later another said, "You also are of them." Peter said, "Man, I am not." After about an hour, another confidently affirmed, "Surely this fellow also was with Him, for he is a Galilean. Your speech gives you away—you're one of those backwater boys from up there in Capernaum." But Peter said, "Man, I do not know what you are saying"—and another Gospel says he swore, "I do not know Him."

Immediately the rooster crowed. The Lord, within sight of Peter, turned and looked at him—it seems their eyes even met. Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken, and he went out and wept bitterly. That word bitterly carries great weight: to weep with heart-wrenching, deep tears and extreme distress.

This is the first point: failure compounds grief. Peter failed to pray, failed to protect, and forsook the Lord—not once, but three times. And to compound it, he did the exact thing Jesus said he would do, after swearing he would die first. I imagine Peter as a strong, statured man, a fisherman and tradesman—not the kind of man you picture weeping. But he ran out and wept bitterly.

Where Was Peter?

Within three hours of locking eyes with Jesus, that man was condemned to die—by the Jewish council, by Herod, and by Pilate. Within six hours He was nailed to a cross. Within nine hours He breathed His last, His body taken down, prepared for burial, and laid in a cold, dark tomb by sundown, the stone rolled over the door. And where was Peter?

Some people just stand out among the crowd, and Peter was one of those. Many Christians identify with him, because he was so good at putting his foot in his mouth. His given name was Simon, son of Jonah. His brother Andrew brought him to Jesus, and Jesus said, "You will be called Cephas—Peter—rock." It was Peter who walked on water in Matthew 14. Yes, he sank, but no one else walked on water at all. It was Peter who answered correctly, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God," and who said, "To whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." He was one of three—with James and John—who saw Jesus glorified on the Mount of Transfiguration and who was present when Jesus raised the young girl from the dead. He was a standout. And now it was Peter who publicly denied Christ three times.

Sometimes Standouts Just Want to Hide

This is the second point: sometimes standouts just want to hide. Have you ever wanted to run away as fast and as far as possible, weeping until there are no more tears? That was Peter.

What was going on in his heart that Good Friday evening as he hid? Interestingly, Jesus' public disciples all hid, but the secret disciples came forward. Joseph of Arimathea, a disciple but secretly, came and asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. Nicodemus—the man who came to Jesus by night in John 3—also showed up, and together they prepared the body for burial. But where was Peter? Hiding.

I wonder if he slept a wink that night, or whether his appetite was gone the next Sabbath day, turning it over and over: "If only I had prayed with Him. If only I had stayed awake. If only I'd said yes when that girl pointed at me. But there will never be a chance now. Even if He were still alive, I denied Him openly—of course He'd want nothing to do with a failure like me." Psalm 6 probably fit Peter those two nights: "I am weary with my groaning; all night I make my bed swim; I drench my couch with my tears. My eye wastes away because of grief."

"Go and Tell His Disciples—and Peter"

But there would be one more opportunity. Luke 24: "Now on the first day of the week, very early in the morning, they came to the tomb bringing the spices they had prepared. But they found the stone rolled away, and they did not find the body of Jesus." Two men in shining garments said, "Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen. Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee, saying the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again." And they remembered His words.

In Mark 16, the angels say, "Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen! He is not here... But go, tell His disciples—and Peter—that He is going before you into Galilee." I love that. And Peter. Why does it single him out? Could it be that some had already written him off as a failure who denied the Lord? But the message is, "Tell the disciples and Peter that He goes before you into Galilee; there you will see Him."

The women returned and told the eleven, "but their words seemed to them like idle tales, and they did not believe them." But Peter arose and ran to the tomb. John's Gospel records that John outran him, looked in, and saw the linen cloths. Then Peter came right past him, went into the tomb, and stood there—surely filled with joy and expectation. Go and tell the disciples, and Peter.

Jesus Calls For and Forgives Failures

This is the third point: Jesus calls for and forgives failures. And that's good news, because every one of us here is a failure. He said, "I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners. A physician is not needed for those who are well, but for those who are sick." If you're here today, God called you here—because you're imperfect, and we're all failures.

He doesn't call failures to sit them down and demand, "Peter, what were you thinking? She was just a little girl—why couldn't you say yes?" In fact, before this happened, Jesus had taken Peter aside and said, "Satan has desired to sift you like wheat, but when you return, strengthen your brethren." When you return. Jesus calls and forgives failures.

Look around—this is just a whole bunch of people who have failed many times. Some of you feel, "I've failed so greatly, there's no way He'd ever call or forgive me." I've had that conversation with dozens of people over the years. But He calls and forgives failures. He calls to each of us daily in our failure and says, "Turn to Me," because He is abundant in grace and mercy. He forgives iniquity, transgression, and sin. He has the authority and power to pardon. That's the gospel. That's good news. That's what Easter is all about—the risen Lord calls and forgives failures.

Closing Prayer

Father, we thank You for Your great grace. There is not a single one of us here today who is deserving, but Lord, we're grateful. Some standing here today were invited by a friend or family member, or just got a card in the mail, and some feel like a failure. But Lord, we're all a bunch of failures—You're the only One who is perfect, the only One who never fails. We fall short constantly, and we thank You for Your great grace. As we turn to You, as we confess and say, "Lord, I'm a failure," You say, "I know, but I have forgiveness."

Lord, if there be any here today who say, "I don't think You could ever forgive me—You don't know what I've done," would You draw them by Your Spirit? Jesus paid for all of our sin on the cross, and to prove the debt is paid, three days later—on resurrection day, the day we celebrate as Easter—He rose from the dead, declaring His death is enough. He died to forgive you of your failures and your sins and to make you one of His followers. He says, "Go and tell My disciples—and Peter, and John, and Sally, and Bob, and Dave, and Mark, and Josh, and whoever else—that I have forgiveness."

If you want to receive the grace and forgiveness of God today, simply call out to Him in prayer. Pray with me: Dear Jesus, I know that I'm a failure. I confess that I have failed. I thank You that You died to forgive me, and I ask that You would give me Your grace. Help me to put my trust in You and to follow You by faith, to be one of Your disciples. In Jesus' name.