It's a little long. But it's kind of hard to cram Peter into a poem. I think it would make a better monologue, since this actually sort of sounds like poetry slam or something. But it's what I got. It's what I've been thinking about, how faith can be so weak even as Jesus is accomplishing His greatest acts. I might have to write Peter part 2, since I love the account of him and Jesus on the beach frying fish. But there just wasn't room for it with this one.
The Last Night
In the upper room for Passover,
While we were busy clamoring,
The teacher stooped and washed our feet.
I didn’t understand then how much it would mean.
Instead I argued, like I always do,
hoping something I said would make him explain
and he told me unless I was washed, I had no part with him.
It still didn’t seem right.
And neither did it, when he told us he’d be betrayed by one of us.
I didn’t want to think it was me
And I felt a sense of relief, when he passed that dipped bread to Judas.
Then he shared the cup with us, and told us of future glory
In His Father’s kingdom
And something about his broken body and spilled blood.
On the walk to the garden he prophesied again
And he said we would all fall away
They would strike the shepherd and the sheep would scatter
And I knew I shouldn’t argue but I said it anyway
I wouldn’t. I never would.
Then he told me I’d deny him, even tonight before the rooster crows
But I still promised I would follow to the death
And I could see the darkening of his face in the fire we lit while we sang a hymn.
He took me and John and James further in
And then he walked away
For a while I watched, and I could hear Him crying
Begging for the cup to be passed
And I think then I realized tonight would be different than the last three years
Tonight, whether in glory or death, His kingdom would begin.
I fell asleep there and I don’t know why. I still wish I hadn’t.
When I saw him next his hair was wet
And I thought there was blood mixed in his sweat
But his face was set like flint there in the moonlight—
Resolve and duress in his eyes.
They came with swords and clubs
A detachment of soldiers, wielding their best weapons
And Judas there at the lead, lighting the way
He kissed the Rabbi’s cheek
And if I could have reached him then, I would have hit him
The men asked for Jesus, and he said “I am He” with such power
They retreated and fell on their faces.
And I held my breath, waiting for his power to be revealed.
But he let them seize him instead.
And I was the only one who drew a sword to protect him.
He just walked away with them
And I stayed behind with a sword in my hand.
We didn’t know where to go
So some of us followed behind
And now I wonder what made me afraid
How did I ever come to that place?
Holding on in such fear and weakness of faith
When I was the one who had walked on water
Why was my heart, always so quick to fight,
Suddenly frozen? My tongue, so quick to speak and
Silenced there by the fire outside the Sanhedrin.
a little girl and a slave, asked if I knew him
And I said I didn’t. When they asked again, I said no.
The third time I swore with curses, with my Galilean accent telling of the lie
Then a rooster crowed.
And I, the one who had sworn first to follow unto death,
Stood there and wept, swallowed up by grief and doubt.
But it felt then like the world had become dark
While he was with us we saw the light
Yet in that moment, from the time he had been taken away
All that I’d built my confidence in seemed to fade
When they put him on the cross, I could hardly see.
Amidst the earthquake and the darkness and the rain
I just thought about that rooster, how Jesus had never been wrong
How all the things He’d told us would one day come to pass
While I didn’t understand them, I understood that one thing.
I had betrayed Him.
The Living God, who possessed the words of eternal life. The one true and rightful king.
There would be no room now at his right hand,
No kingdom come for me.
And yet, I still believed.
Because with Jesus, nothing was ever as it seemed.
He’d told me the rooster would crow.
He’d told me we’d all be scattered.
But before that He’d promised not to leave us and he’d said not to be afraid.
So that night I remembered how he’d stood in the boat and calmed the waves
How he’d appeared to us like a ghost on the raging waters
And I’d walked out to him with my wavering faith.
And with that shard of hope, I thought
maybe tomorrow, he’d be among us again
Laughing at the wind.
Calling us his friends.
1 comment:
Wow, neat thoughts from across the millennia.
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