Then I followed....at a distance- Peter

“Hey Peter!” my brother called across the room. “Tell everyone why we call you the Rock!” “I would think that is obvious,” I replied flexing my arm. “My rock hard biceps of course!” “All this time I thought it was your rock hard head!” Andrew exclaimed to a chorus of uproarious laughter. I chuckled myself. “Laugh now, but which of you had the courage to follow the master out and walk on water?” “And screaming for help before all was said and done!” Another brother laughed and clapped me on the back. “Indeed, but at least I got out of the boat!”

As we reclined at the table, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the master stand. Not liking the idea of Him traveling alone on a night like tonight, I stood to join him. Quickly the laughter had gone silent as Jesus wrapped a common towel around his waist, filled a bowl with water, and knelt down to begin washing feet. I never remember a time prior to this where I had been knocked speechless. The sight was as perplexing as watching a fish dance or the sun bow to the moon. My Master on His knees doing the work of a slave.

I watched him take each foot in his hand. Dusty grime from miles of travel wiped away with the touch of his hand. He then took the towel and dried each foot as if He held a precious treasure. After each disciple, He looked them in the eye and gently nodded his head. Each looked disoriented as I felt with wide eyes and open mouths, but they nodded back.

He came and stood before me. I noticed the weary lines drawn across His face, his sunken cheeks, and his eyes looked tired and dull. “Lord,” I whispered, “Are you going to wash my feet?” His head turned and His eyes softened. “You do not realize what I am doing, but later you will understand.” “No,” I choked out and stammered. “You shall never wash my feet!”  “Unless I wash you, you will have no part with me.” “Then Lord,” I replied, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!” He always had this way of looking into me. He saw more than I wanted Him too. To most I was strong, confident, and headstrong. Only He knew the truth. That I never felt as if I were enough.

Again a holy hush fell over the table. It was as if heaven itself had paused and waited to see how this drama would proceed. My Lord took a loaf of bread, and held it in His hands. The same hands that minutes before had griped our filthy earth caked feet. How could one single set of Hands hold so much? I have watched as they held children, grieving widows, broken men. Now, He held the bread and said, “Take; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks He gave it to us, and we all drank from it. He said  then, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” Then Jesus said to them, “This very night you will all fall away on account of Me. For it is written:

‘I will strike the shepherd,

and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’

But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.” 

My mind seemed a garbled mess. His blood poured out for all? A new covenant? I didn’t understand. His body would be broken for us? No! We could fight! I would fight with my last breath and consider it a victory if only Jesus lived. I began to shake with fear, but fear quickly altered to anger. My fist pounded on the table and a crack shot through the room. Pain lanced through my hand where a large splinter had broken off into it,  but I paid it no attention. “Even if all fall away on account of You, I never will.”

When He turned to look at me, it was if the whole world fell away. .“Truly I tell you,” Jesus declared, “this very night before the rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.” The words echoed in the room. They bounced off the cup and the uneaten bread. The sunk into my skin and left a smell like death in my nose. It pierced me deeper than the wood that dug into my hands and dripped blood onto my leftover bread. “Even if I have to die with You, I will never deny You.” Even as I said it, I felt a shadow cross over me. Only for a moment, but the lingering doubt crushed the air from my lungs.

 As we walked with Him to Gethsemane, I felt the darkness following. My legs wanted to run and my mind screamed to hide, but the Master walked steady. So I followed. He told us to wait and pray while He went deeper into the garden. I must have fallen asleep though the nightmares that accompanied it gave me no rest. I was at the top of a pit. Confused and panicked as to where Jesus had gone, I swung around and almost lost my balance and fell. As I looked down to steady myself, I saw Him in the bottom of the pit. On His knees, jaw clenched, crying out. I couldn’t make out His words.  But I felt the agony. I leaned forward to scream that I was here. I would come. With a roar of darkness, something cold and hard pushed me. I fell.

I awoke with a start. Jesus standing over me. Could I not stay away and keep watch for even an hour. As He went away again, this time deeper into the garden, it took all the willpower I possessed to not go running after him. Soon I drifted into the dreaded place again. This time I was at the bottom of the pit. Mere feet away from me, Jesus again was on His knees. His hands drug against the ground and the rocks. He barley noticed the blood dripping down his hands as they dug into his hands. Then I saw it. Standing over him was a blackness. Like a cloud only more solid. Like an oil that left a putrid stain of sin. But when I tried to look upon it, everything tilted. I heard screaming and moaning. Suddenly cries of help and terror surrounded me. I tried to jump up and reach for my sword. But my hands were plastered to my side. The darkness was coming for Him. “No!” I screamed. I screamed and screamed until I could taste blood and ash in my mouth. He looked up and when our eyes met, I was jerked awake again.

Groggy from the nightmare and confused by the ache still in my throat, I stood up as Jesus said, “They are here.” I saw darkness and torches. Then I saw Judas and relaxed. Surely there was a reason this crowd had come to get us. Then I looked closer at Judas. Something seemed to almost crawl under his skin. His eyes were black bottomless, but when he blinked they seemed normal again. He walked forward and placed a kiss on the Master's face. Then I knew.

It was him. He would betray Him. The very one who we had all declared the Christ! The Son of the living God! A guard grabbed hold of Jesus’s arm and a red hot fury I have never known burned through me. I grabbed my sword and sliced off his ear. Had I not been so exhausted and overwhelmed, the soldier would now be in two pieces for his comrades to carry home. Jesus looked at me. “No,” was all He said. “This is how it is to be.” I stood frozen to the spot as they drug Him away as I stood in a pile of the soldier’s and my own blood and vomit.  Then I followed at some distance behind to see where they were leading Him. Although in my spirit, it was as if He was still leading them. Though the darkness hadn't discovered this yet. I knew nothing the world has ever seen or would ever see again was coming.