I Am Peter but the Rooster Hasn’t Crowed Yet

“The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: ‘Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.’ And he went outside and wept bitterly”

Luke 22:61–62 (NIV)

Many times in my Christian life, I have continuously pondered whether any of these religious dictates are genuine and worthy of believing and following. Who is Christ? Where is the Holy Ghost, and how long does it take to find Him? If God is powerful and loving, then why…? These questions express my confusion about the vast disparity between the ideal (God, heaven) and reality (humans, earth). The contrast is striking. The world, in all its sin and impurity, somehow works. The rich are not necessarily holy and pious. Most religious countries are usually the poorest. Churches are at full capacity in places where government fails and basic amenities are lacking. The wealthy are protected from most, if not all, of the hell this world can bring, and they are easily ameliorated when they face some heat from life. Morality is high in places where the one-eyed man is king. Immorality is praised where all eyes can see. Western cultural degeneration has yet to preclude it from being the most desired destination for the world’s peasants to migrate to.

A view like mine, and like many others who care to think, questions our faith. The question of its necessity and truth. The importance of God is questioned as though one found God and put Him on the courtroom stand, if anyone could even dare. Why do we need the invisible and all-knowing God? Why do I and many others hold on to this enigmatic truth that one day Christ will come for us and we will see Him face to face? Why should we consider earthly desires mundane for a higher course we have not experienced? Are we high, addicted to the narration of hope, hope that tomorrow is bright, that there is more to our pitiful state than meets the eye?

When these questions are finely presented in my mind, asked by my darker self, I crumble into denial. Denial not that I do not know Christ, but denial that I do not have sufficient answers to these seemingly daunting questions. Denial that I have not, through experience and logical reasoning, confirmed that Christ is all and all in all. Denial that my life is not mine, but His.

In the epiphany of my denial, I realized that I am Peter. I love the Lord and cut the ears of those unwilling to listen to His word. I am Peter, wanting to save my Savior. I do not want Him crucified, His name in the mud by unscrupulous and amoral groups. I am Peter. I saw my Master walk on water, and so did I. I am Peter who, through revelation, knew the identity of my Master, Christ the Son of the living God. I am Peter whom the devil wants to sift as wheat. I am Peter who would go back to the fishing business at the slightest resistance to my commitments to God. I am Peter who denied knowing and working with my Master.

I am Peter whom Christ needed to watch and pray. I slept, unable to bear the burdens of my Master. I am Peter, threatened by a servant girl to declare my allegiance to my King. I am Peter, scared of dining with those I consider sinners. I am Peter, holier than thou. I am Peter, waiting for the rooster to crow to remind me that I am bought with a price, a price money cannot buy. I am waiting to be reminded that God is merciful and can be trusted to keep His promises. I am Peter, waiting until it is convenient to tell the world about Christ and His finished works. I am Peter, waiting to see if my plausible deniability can last a little longer so I can avoid speaking to the world about the Word that came to save the world.

I am Peter, anointed to walk on water, yet I tremble and sink when the waves rage high. I am Peter, saved by grace through faith. I am Peter, and I do not need a rooster to crow to run to my King and plead for mercy. I am Peter, and He is God.