12. Mark 14:27-31
And Jesus said to them, “You will all become deserters; for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.’ But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.” Peter said to him, “Even though all become deserters, I will not.” Jesus said to him, “Truly I tell you, this day, this very night, before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times.” But he said vehemently, “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And all of them said the same.
Of course they did – say the same, that is. Peter is the first, naturally, to profess this loyalty. But they all join in. Not one of them can imagine themselves capable of such cowardice. How could they possibly desert their teacher, the one they left so much to follow, the one who has taught them so much, given them so much? It is unthinkable.
And yet it happens. Each one deserts Jesus and Peter does, indeed, deny his Lord three times. Funny things happen when you’re life is on the line.
Or your reputation, or your salary, or your sense of security, or even your confidence in your biases and judgments. On reflection, this story may be tragic, but it’s not unusual. In fact, I’d say it is hauntingly familiar. We, too, surprise ourselves by our faithlessness, or our anger, or our fear, or our greed. As the Apostle Paul writes, naming something deeply true and inescapable about the human condition, “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (Rom. 7:19).
And yet possessing a relentlessly selective memory, we forget this about ourselves, or deny it, or try to pretend it’s not true. Just like Jesus’ disciples back then: “’Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.’ And all of them said the same.” Of course they did; of course we do.
But this reading is only in part about our frail and fickle hearts. It’s also about Jesus’ faithfulness. For amid his predictions of the failure of his friends, he also makes this promise: “But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.” Jesus knows they will fail and desert him. And Jesus intends to go forward with his mission to redeem these faithless friends nonetheless.
In a sense, this is the essential plotline of the Bible in a nutshell. God is faithful. We are not. Yet in the face of our failure God does not relent, still pursuing us in love, still eager to risk everything for our sake, still unwilling to give up on us. It would be a tragic story, when you think about it – just one more tale of unrequited love – were it not for one thing: this is God we’re talking about. The God who not only created everything out of nothing and brought light from darkness but also raises the dead to life.
And just as God raised God’s faithful Son on the third day, so will God also raise God’s faithless children. Certainly at the end, but also now, as every once in a while the significance of what God has done – of just how much God loves us – sinks in and penetrates the numbness that attends so much of our lives. And in those moments we are transformed. Not forever; sometimes not even for long. But it is a foretaste of the renewal and resurrection to come. It may not be everything we want but, in the meantime, it is enough.
Prayer: Dear God, make us once again mindful of your love poured out for us and all the world that we may be transformed – even if only for a moment – by your great love so that we may share it with those around us. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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