solid rock

Few lives in Scripture have been painted in such vivid strokes as that of Simon Peter. A faithful reader can trace his character arc from rough fisherman to zealous disciple, fearful turncoat to bold apostle. More than once recently, I’ve had cause to remember the final interactions Jesus had with Peter surrounding His crucifixion. Etched deeply in all our Sunday school memories is the story of Peter’s three denials of His professed Messiah. Following closely on its heels is his parallel restoration, when the resurrected Christ offers Peter three chances to reaffirm his love. But the episode that has long been dear to me, and the one which has captured my attention again recently, comes just prior to these. It is the moment in which Jesus reveals Peter’s own heart to him, though Peter did not yet have eyes to see it.

From the beginning, Jesus knew what was in Peter’s heart. He had listened to Peter boast and bluster, break out with something profound and original, and almost immediately fall on his face. On multiple occasions, Jesus sought to temper the self-satisfaction and pride that served as Peter’s Achilles heel. He anticipated the fear that would rise when Peter’s bravado was stripped away, the shame that would surface to cover the nakedness of his broken spirit. He knew Peter would be forced to confront his own glaring inadequacy. All too soon, the one who gloated that he alone would stand with Jesus would find himself the first to fall.

Yet Jesus did not turn away from Peter, even with His full awareness of these glaring flaws. He saw that the untapped potential of this rough and ready disciple ran far deeper than intellect or accomplishments. Rather, Peter’s unrefined glory lay in the strength of his heart: his capacity to love, with passion and without restraint. With careful training, this gift would shine; without it, it would prove his downfall.

Listen in on Jesus’ own words to Peter, as the final moments of His earthly mission approach: “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.” (Luke 22:31-32).

Peter’s imminent denial came as no surprise to Jesus. While Peter’s choice would prove disastrous, it was also strangely necessary. For the unyielding coating of Peter’s pride encased a deep vein of love and promise. Jesus knew it would take nothing short of a devastating blow to crack this self-sustained armor and release the rich flow inside.

And so Jesus prayed, not to spare Peter the sifting, but to uphold him through it. He prayed that the bedrock foundation of Peter’s faith would hold, an anchor to sustain his heart as gale-force winds ripped his covering away. Once the storm had blown itself out, leaving a broken, humbled man in its wake, Jesus meant for His words to serve as a spark of hope, igniting a flame of purpose in the breast of this storm-tossed soul.

Jesus had every confidence that Peter would weather the coming storm and emerge whole. He did not spare Peter the hellish ordeal of encountering his own weakness, nor did He soften the blow. Instead, He provided everything Peter would need to survive it: a prayer to sustain his faith, and the promise of his victory. 

How often do we beg the Lord for so much more when our own impending storms trouble the horizon? Remove this; heal that; step in here, we demand. Yet it is God alone who sees clearly what still needs to be formed in us. All too often for our comfort, it is those very storms whose harsh winds and waves batter our stubborn souls into the shapes they’re meant to take.

We desire tenderness and gentle breezes; God welcomes the violence and turmoil that will, at last, accomplish His purposes. He knows nothing less will succeed in freeing sin’s captives from generations of hardened strongholds.

Why the pain, the ache, the suffering? What good could possibly come from what seems so evil? Beloved, we serve a God who has proved Himself willing to go to any extreme to secure our eternity. Is not His own grief and humiliation at the Cross evidence of that? There can be no more magnificent testimony of His bleeding heart for our redemption. By comparison, everything else we endure must pale into “light and momentary troubles.” 

We would do better to ask: what kind of God would be willing to watch His own beloved Son hang from a cruel cross, drenched with the shame of all humanity, to provide for our salvation? What sovereign King would willingly enter into the tears of His chosen ones, walking with us through the fires of our own refinement? Oh, how He loves! Knowing the end from the beginning does not remove the suffering — from God, or from us. Yet a lifetime of ease could not begin to produce the sweet fellowship of sharing in His sufferings. His purposes may be beyond our understanding, but they are ever worthy of our trust.

What storms even now churn around you? What flames of fire lick at your shoes? Whether this present tempest results from your choices or has come through no fault of your own, I humbly invite you to submit to the hand of the Master, and allow yourself to be plunged into the heart of the storm. At this very moment, Jesus stands at the right hand of the Father, interceding for you as effectively as He advocated for Peter. Through all of the sifting, through all of the trial, He prays that your faith would not fail. 

And WHEN — not if —you reach the other side, He implores you to strengthen your comrades. Those who, like you, have been gripped by trials of faith, those who’ve been run ragged by storm-tossed seas — they stand in dire need of encouragement, and you are the very one to offer it. Think not of yourself; the Lord is bringing you through! Instead, extend a hand to your brethren, and walk forward. For redemption stands just ahead on the storm-washed shore, waiting to embrace us all. Take heart, Beloved, and keep looking up! Your salvation is nearer now than when you first believed.