Tagged with Lent

Bargaining with God

Genesis 15:1-18

When Abram and Sarai are in their 70s, they get amazing news from God. This aging, childless couple is going to become the source of a great nation, in a land that God will show them. Through them, God will bless all the families of the earth.

Abram and Sarai carry this incredible promise with them as they follow God’s call on a big adventure, travelling from their homeland to Bethel, and from Bethel to Egypt, and from Egypt back to Bethel. They hold onto this promise as they establish a home in Bethel, building their wealth, and waiting. They treasure this promise year after year after year after year, and still: no baby. No nation. No blessings.

Then the word of God comes to Abram in a vision, as we heard in the reading this morning. God says: “Do not be afraid, Abram; I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.”  But by this time, Abram has a question. “God, what will you give me, for I continue childless… You have given me no offspring.”  God reassures Abram that he will have a child, and tells him: “Look towards heaven and count the stars… so shall your descendants be.” Apparently, looking up at all the stars God created is persuasive, for the scriptures tell us that Abram believes God; and that God reckons it to him as righteousness.

As the story continues, God goes on to reassure Abram about the second part of the original promise: the land Abram’s people will live in. God says, “I am the one who brought you from Ur of the Chaldeans to give you this land to possess.”  But again, Abram has a question. “O God,” Abram asks, “How am I to know that I shall possess it?”  God explains that Abram’s offspring will be slaves in a foreign land for four hundred years, but later come to claim the land. Then God establishes a covenant with Abram, that his ancestors will inherit the land.

I wonder how Abram feels, after this second encounter with God, about the bargain he has made. 

Abram does not seem to hesitate at all, if you go back to chapter 12, when God first makes grand promises and asks great things of him.  But by the time God checks back in, in the scriptures today, many years later, things have changed. Abram’s simple trust and absolute faithfulness to God’s call have been strained. It has been so long. So, Abram dares to ask questions. “What will you give me, for I remain childless?”  “How am I to know that I shall possess it?”

God reassures Abram that the promises She gave him are true. And, according to our biblical text, those promises ARE true. And yet, the promises are not true in quite the way that Abram probably assumed. Abram and Sarai will bear a child – but only after years of uncertainty, conflict, and grief. Their descendants will inhabit a great land – but only after hundreds of years of slavery. 

Abram and Sarai receive great promises, they embark on a journey with God. But God’s point of view, God’s sense of time, are so much grander than Abram’s.  Abram has an awful lot of waiting to do, before the promises are fulfilled.

Have you ever felt that something was owed to you? Something promised, and not yet fulfilled? Something delayed, perhaps beyond your lifetime? 

This week the news broke about a college admissions scandal. Extremely wealthy parents have been paying to cheat the system, so that their children might enter elite institutions. Of course, as many folks point out, this is only part of a much larger problem. Wealthy parents have always used money to gain access for their children in schools and beyond.  Most of the ways we do it are even legal: extensive and expensive preparation, massive donations, and personal connections.  What’s more, most of the kids who receive this kind of boost already have other unfair advantages, like white privilege.

It’s easy to look at this admissions scandal and wonder: what could these parents have been thinking? I can’t imagine bribing my kid into college (maybe I’ll change my mind about that in 10 years or so). But if I’m honest, I’m familiar with the very seductive feeling of wanting my kid to have the best. I want my children to have every good thing. I am thrilled by the quality of daycare and public education available here in Concord, even as my conscience struggles with the imbalance between opportunities here, and elsewhere.  I don’t really know what I’d be capable of, if they had a need I couldn’t meet legally, and ethically.

There are some things we want so much that logic, and even ethics, do not always have the final call in our reasoning. The things we want may be good things, or bad things, or somewhere in between.  They may be things we want for ourselves, or things we want for those we love. Regardless, sometimes our desire is so fierce that we are overcome by a sense of personal entitlement.  It seems like the world owes this thing to us in particular, or even, that God owes it to us. This conviction leads, sometimes, to crime; sometimes, to perfectly legal manipulations of the system; and sometimes simply to a corrosive conviction that we are being cheated out of something we deserve.

Most of us know this experience on some level: unfulfilled desire, ambition, longing. It’s a more complicated question, though, to ask what we really deserve, or what we’ve really been promised, by God or by anyone else. That requires teasing apart layers of harmful privilege and entitlement or personal desire from more admirable longings that are often tied up in the same issues: longings to be loved, to be valued, to be treated with justice, and to protect ourselves and those we care for.

I’m not sure it’s wise to make bargains with God. If I do this, then you’ll do that. If you’ll do that, then I’ll do this. God’s so much bigger than us, so hard for us to understand.  Would we really get what we expected out of the deal? I’m not even sure that God does make bargains; maybe we just sometimes think that we’ve made them with her.

Putting our trust in God, as Abram did, is not so much about striking a bargain. It’s more like participating in a relationship. When we’re in a relationship, we sometimes need to clarify expectations, and renegotiate responsibilities. Sometimes we even get really mad, or need to take a time-out. The important thing is staying in conversation, as long as we can be safe doing so. Most of the adult people of faith I know have had to have some serious talks with God, somewhere along the way.

Abram, who we come to know as Abraham, is a hero in at least four faith traditions. He’s an example of what it means to trust God.  He keeps following God, even though he’s not really sure what God’s promises will mean for him or his descendants. There’s room in his relationship with God for disappointment and pain, wonder and awe, trust and doubt. Abram just stays in the conversation with God, no matter what happens.  He sticks with God, as God sticks with him.  Abram teaches us that faith in God can bless a life, and that God’s blessing can passed along, again and again, generation after generation, even amidst the great injustices and uncertainties of life.

Please pray with me.

Holy God, help me sift through the longings of my heart, the desires of my mind, to better distinguish what yearnings lead me towards you, towards justice, peace, and healing for all of your creation. Where beautiful longings cannot be met, grant me comfort. Where good yearnings must wait, and wait, and wait, and wait, stay with me. Where my desires can prompt actions towards positive change, empower me. Where my desires are instead graspings for power, privilege, security, only for me and mine: teach me to let go, and put my trust in you instead. Amen.

A Community Garden

Deuteronomy 26:1-11, Luke 4:1-13

Gnarled Tree Roots — Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis

On Ash Wednesday, we are reminded that we are dust, and to dust we will return. Our human bodies, in other words, are earth; as we know also from the second story of Creation, in which God forms us by hand from clay.

We are dust; we are earth; we are clay. Our bodies are like little plots of land, temporarily assigned to us by the organizer of an enormous community garden.

Have you ever spent time in a community garden, one of the ones divided into little individual plots? In warmer weather, I often walk through the one on the side of Cousins’ field, a few blocks away from here. I love seeing how different each section of the garden is. Some folks have elaborate fencing, while others seem unconcerned with protecting their borders. Some folks lay down straw between their plantings, others woodchips. Some use black plastic to keep down the weeds. Some folks fill their whole plot with tomato plants, so that by August there are an unbelievable number of heavy, red tomatoes sagging on the vine; almost too many to pick, even on a few square yards of land. Other folks plant a great variety of things: eggplants and zuchinnis and pumpkins, several kinds of lettuce, a selection of herbs, borders of colorful flowers, and accents of whimsical garden decor. Some plots show the marks of a meticulously ordered mind, and dedicated daily care, while others are beautiful in their wildness.

I wonder: what kind of garden are you growing, on your little plot of God’s green earth?

Our scriptures are full of plants, both literal and symbolic. Our first scripture this morning, from Deuteronomy, works on both levels. It speaks of the importance of bringing the first fruits of our harvest to God. God has done so much for us, and for our ancestors, the scripture argues, that it is only right that our very first fruits should be shared with God and with God’s people. “You shall set [your offering] down before God and bow down. Then you, together with the Levites and the aliens who reside among you, shall celebrate with all the bounty that God has given to you.” (Deut. 26:11)

Our second scripture passage speaks not of abundance, but the lack of it. Out in the bleakness of the wilderness, far from water, and without any food at all, Jesus contends with the devil. What will he do, what will he say, while deprived and depleted in the desert?

The Hebrew scriptures describe how God nourishes us with water, so that our leaves will never wilt (Psalm 1:3, Jeremiah 17:8).  God sometimes destroys plants in scripture, ripping them out of the ground or even burning their roots.  Other roots, like the root of Jesse, are miraculously preserved.

In the Greek scriptures, Jesus uses parables about seeds to describe how the good news of the gospel grows, or fails to grow, in the soil of our lives.  He curses a fig tree that does not bear fruit (Matthew 21:19). Jesus also says, “I am the true vine.. I am the vine, and you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit…” (John 15:1, 5)

The letters of the early Church in our scriptures are surprisingly full of plant imagery as they describe the identity and spiritual health of new Christian communities. We are compared to a wild olive shoot, grafted onto the existing plant of faith (Romans 11). We are instructed that the love of money is the root of all evil (Timothy 6:10) and warned of the danger of a root of bitterness in our communities (Hebrews 12:15). We are told that we are being rooted and grounded in love (Ephesians 3:17). And in the letter to the Colossians, we hear: “As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.” (Colossians 2:6-7)

At the very end of our bible, in the Book of Revelation, there is a tree of life whose leaves are for the healing of the nations (Rev. 22:2), and just a few verses later, Jesus proclaims: “I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star.” (Rev. 22:16

In all this rich plant imagery, it’s hard to pick a favorite text, but I am particularly drawn to a passage from the Wisdom of Solomon that I hadn’t remembered (7:15, 17-22):

May God grant me to speak with judgement,
and to have thoughts worthy of what I have received;
for God is the guide even of wisdom and the corrector of the wise…
For it is God who gave me unerring knowledge of what exists,
to know the structure of the world and the activity of the elements;
the beginning and end and middle of times,
the alternations of the solstices and the changes of the seasons,
the cycles of the year and the constellations of the stars,
the natures of animals and the tempers of wild animals,
the powers of spirits* and the thoughts of human beings,
the varieties of plants and the virtues of roots;
I learned both what is secret and what is manifest,
for wisdom, the fashioner of all things, taught me.

O to know the virtues of roots!
Imagine that your body is a small plot of land, a temporary assignment in a community garden as large as the universe. There’s a lot we can’t control about the plot of land we are given. We can’t change the kind of soil we have, the sun exposure, the natural rainfall, which plots border ours. But there’s many variables we do have a choice about: what we plant, and what we pull up. How we employ mulch, and manure, and irrigation.  Whether we undertake staking and pest control.

What kind of garden are you growing, with the plot of land you were given?  Is there anything about your gardening habits that you’d like to change?

As we start this season, I encourage all of you to consider claiming a Lenten practice: something you will intentionally do or not do, this season. It may be that you have too much of something in your garden right now: aphids, or acidity, or technology, or plastic, or self-criticism.  It may be that you have too little of something in your garden right now: nutrients, or water, or movement, or meaningful human connection.

Come see our strips of soil and add your own!

Let’s take a moment now to consider at least one thing that you could do, if only for these forty days of Lent, that would bring greater health to your garden. If you are moved, and if you have not already done so, please write down your commitment (anonymously) on a brown strip of paper, to be dedicated here today, and to encourage and inspire others here.

On Ash Wednesday, those who were here started some new roots, by placing plant cuttings in water, in the jars that are now in our entryway. As the season starts, we’re also enriching our soil, with these pieces of paper, these commitments to ourselves, and our community, and to our world.  Who knows what could grow, if we only grant ourselves what we truly need?

Please pray with me: Holy God, I am a humble little plot in your great creation, dust and dirt, earth and clay, seeded by your Spirit. Please forgive my inexpert gardening, and grant me the grace to keep on trying, while I learn from you about the varieties of plants and the virtues of roots. Build up my soil, and establish my soul until it grows strong, flourishing in all seasons. May I bear abundant fruit, offering my first fruits to you, sharing my bounty with neighbors and strangers, and in good time, returning my plot to your careful stewardship. Amen.

Good Friday Vespers

This year our service was held around a cross in the midst of the sanctuary, with scripture, prayer, silence, and song inviting us to consider the events surrounding Jesus’ death and what they mean for us today. Here’s a piece of reflection from Isaiah 52:13-53:12:

When the followers of Jesus tried to understand who Jesus was, they naturally turned to the stories and figures in their sacred scripture and in Jewish tradition. Some people imagined Jesus to be a prophet, like Elijah. Others believed him to be a king, like David. Others believed him to be the messiah, or a messiah: someone anointed by God to bring salvation to the people. Tonight Joanna read a passage from the Hebrew scriptures that describes another figure who became important to followers of Jesus then and now: the suffering servant, from the book of Isaiah.

The suffering servant is a confusing and somewhat contradictory figure in scripture. Some aspects of the description may be hard for many of us to accept as a description of Jesus. In particular, the idea that God might require or plan for a human sacrifice to redeem the sin of others may not resonate with our beliefs.

But as we prepare to hear the story of the Passion at the close of this service, I am struck by how this passage from Isaiah captures many things that I do believe about Jesus. Like the suffering servant, Jesus was nothing special to look at; no one ever mentions that Jesus was particularly beautiful. He wasn’t rich, didn’t come from a powerful family. And like the suffering servant, Jesus becomes a scapegoat for the errors and fears of others. In the end, by Jesus is arrested, and killed: not because he has done anything wrong, but in order to appease leaders and people who are wary of the problems he might cause, or the values he represents.

It’s important to remember, as ancient Jewish followers of Jesus and modern Christian followers of Jesus draw connections between Jesus and the suffering servant, that the suffering servant in scripture is not actually one person, but a representation of a whole people: the people Israel.  So perhaps a meaningful way to bring this Hebrew text, and our gospel text, into our current day is to think not only of Jesus, but of the communities of people who, though innocent, are experiencing blame, scapegoating, suffering, and execution.  I think of black Americans; trans folks, and the whole GLBTQ+ community; those who experience domestic violence, and gun violence; people suffering with disease. I’m sure you can think of others.

Suffering, and violent or untimely death are hard for us to think about if we don’t have to. Sometimes we ignore them. Or, in Christian tradition, we have sometimes glorified them. Today we try, instead, simply to acknowledge them: to open our hearts to the sadness in the life of the Jewish people, and in the life of Jesus, and in our world today.  To bring our own heartbreaks to be joined with the tears of Jesus, and the tears of the world.

 

Love First

John 12:20-33

Everyone is talking about Jesus.  They’re talking about Jesus, because of what happened with Lazarus. It is not so long before our gospel passage for today that Jesus learns that his friend has died. He goes to the tomb and asks for the stone to be taken away.  He cries, “Lazarus, come out!” And Lazarus comes up out of the tomb.

We can imagine that a story like this would get around. A teacher named Jesus raised someone from the dead? Everyone is talking, rumors are spreading, and more and more people are coming to see the one who defied death.

Everyone is talking about Jesus, and some folks don’t like it. Roman leaders are worried that Jesus and his followers will revolt against their rule. Jewish leaders are worried that Jesus and his followers will provoke the Romans into harming other Jewish people. A few folks begin to wonder if it might be a good preventative measure to kill Jesus, or Lazarus, to prevent wider bloodshed.

Everyone is talking about Jesus, excited, worried, and Jesus knows it. For a while, he hides out, avoiding the conflict. But eventually he decides: it’s time. Jesus travels into Jerusalem for the great feast of Passover -we’ll remember this story next week. There are lots of people in Jerusalem, and when they see Jesus, they tear palm branches from the trees and wave them in the air, shouting, “Hosanna!”

Amidst this great crowd, those who saw Lazarus rise continue to testify. This story about Jesus continues to spread. So, as our text for today begins, Greeks, Jews from the greater diaspora, folks who just arrived in the region, come to see for themselves the one who defied death.  They tell Philip, with great politeness: “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”

The scene is set for Jesus to tell us more. Will he explain how he did it, how he lifted Lazarus from the dead? Will Jesus promise to do away with death forever?  No such luck. Jesus is always happy to challenge people’s expectations. He says: “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

Instead of telling us how to conquer death, Jesus starts talking about what we might call the benefits of death: his death, our death, the death of our lives as we know them. Jesus talks about death, and service, and glory, and is answered from the heavens, with a voice that sounds like thunder, or angels. And then Jesus concludes, “Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

So much for immortality. They way of Jesus, it seems, does not set itself against death. Following Jesus, we are led closer to death. In fact, the path of Jesus moves through death.  It is only on the other side of death that the story takes a positive turn: the grain bears much fruit; we discover eternal life; Jesus is lifted up from the earth; Jesus draws all people to himself.

What does it mean that Jesus speaks in this way about death? Is he recommending martyrdom as a path for all of us? Does he believe that suffering and death are glorious or productive? Should they be something that we seek? (more…)

Love & Truth

Numbers 21:4-9
John 3:14-21

Maybe you’ve heard our gospel text for today before: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”  If that doesn’t sound familiar, maybe you’ve heard the chapter and verse for it: John 3:16. This one of the most famous scripture passages in America. It decorates poster boards lifted up at football games. It’s plastered across billboards.  Many people feel that this one sentence is a perfect encapsulation of their faith, and the faith they want other people to have.

Unfortunately, there is also a great deal in this sentence and in this passage from the Gospel of John to make us uncomfortable. The vocabulary alone is enough to make many progressive Christians squirm. Eternal Life? Salvation? Condemnation? Judgement? What do these words really mean?

We might also object to the dichotomies in this passage. Is the world really so clearly divided between believers and unbelievers, people who love light and people who love darkness, folks who are condemned and folks who are saved?

Even if we love the text itself, the way it is used in our culture is enough to make many of us push back.  How could any one sentence of scripture measure if folks are correctly Christian? Would Jesus really want anyone to be harassed and bullied into belief?

Thankfully, this passage from the gospel of John was not written by or for American Christians in the 21st century. Considering the broader context from which it comes may help us to find something that is useful for our own lives of faith. (more…)

Love Finds Us

The Book of Jonah

Every preacher I’ve ever met can tell the same story. Here is how the story goes: Some weeks, our sermon just won’t come together. We work hard, but still — ugh. Days pass, and when Sunday comes, that sermon has got to be preached, whether we like it or not. So we get up, and give the sermon, full of dread that we are disappointing God and the congregation whom we have been called to serve. And then, it happens: someone comes up to us at the end of the service and says, “Pastor, that was EXACTLY what I needed to hear today.”

Let me be clear: this doesn’t mean it was a good sermon. It probably wasn’t a very good sermon. Half the time, the thing the person says they heard in your sermon, that thing that they really needed to hear – that is something you never even said. But God has taken the ingredients on hand: a struggling pastor, a person hungry for a message, and the Holy Spirit – and made something amazing happen. Even if every single other person in the congregation leaves that day thinking, “well, I didn’t really get much out of that one” –  one person got something they desperately needed.

This story that every pastor can tell reminds me of Jonah. Jonah is perhaps the worst prophet in all of scripture. God asks Jonah to get up and go at once to Ninevah, that great city, and cry out against it. Now, many prophets are reluctant to do what God asks them to do. Jeremiah says: “I am only a boy!”  Moses says, “Who am I to go to the great Pharaoh?”  But Jonah doesn’t even bother arguing with God. He just takes off in the other direction. He literally runs away from God.

As it turns out, God doesn’t take “no” for an answer.  God uses all kinds of extraordinary methods to get Jonah back on track: waves, wind, mortal danger, and three days in the belly of a giant fish.  When the fish deposits Jonah back on dry land, God is right there, ready to try again. She tells Jonah to get up and go at once to Ninevah, that great city, and cry out against it.

This time, Jonah goes. But he’s not happy about it! He composes a sermon that is only one sentence long. He preaches it for only one day. He walks only one-third of the way through the city. But that one sentence, and that one day, and that one-third of the city turns out to be enough. It is enough to set the whole city aflame with a passionate desire for spiritual reconciliation and renewal. Someone carries word to the King himself and the King issues a decree that all humans and even the animals in Ninevah must fast and turn from their evil ways.

Those of you who are familiar with our scriptures, I ask you, do people usually respond in this way to the message of a prophet, immediately obeying their call to repentance? No. Never! Generally, prophets are ignored, or even punished. Jonah is extraordinarily successful in restoring a great city’s faithfulness, with only one sentence, and one day, and one-third of the city.

You might think that Jonah would be proud of what he has accomplished. Not at all! When the people respond to his message with repentance, and God responds to the people with compassion, Jonah is so angry he wants to die.  He throws a tantrum in front of God because of the mercy God has shown. He stalks out of the city and sits down and waits  — just in case God decides to destroy the city after all. He wants to watch it burn.

The story ends with God asking Jonah a question: is it right for you to be angry? Is it right for you to be angry that I care about a city that I created and tended?  And the book ends, awkwardly, right there: with God still waiting for Jonah to come around.

Most of us who gather around the word of God are very imperfect people.  We have more in common with Jonah than some of the more admirable figures in our bible. Maybe you can think of a time when you ran away from an opportunity that God gave you.  Maybe you can think of a time when God’s grace made you angry instead of grateful.  Maybe you can think of a time when you did the right thing only by mistake, or through the amazing intervening power of God.

But our God is a persistent God, who follows us wherever we go. Our God is a creative God, who sends us messages in new ways to try to get our attention.  Our God is a loving God, who cares for us even when we are extremely unpleasant to be around.  Our God is a compassionate God, who offers us chance after chance after chance to get it right. No matter how badly we behave, God keeps trying to help us live a new kind of life, for our own sake, and for the sake of those around us. It is never too late. Thanks be to God.

Love & Discipleship

Mark 8:27-38

No disciple gets more things wrong, through a deep desire to get things right, than Simon Peter.

You remember Simon Peter: he starts out life as a fisherman. He is called with his brother Andrew to follow Jesus.  From the beginning, Peter has a prominent place among the disciples. However, his enthusiasm for the cause often leads him astray.

When Peter sees Jesus walking on water, he wants to be just like him. But Peter isn’t Jesus, and when he steps out on the waves, he sinks.  (Mt 14:30).  When Peter witnesses Jesus up on a mountain, transfigured by the glory of God and talking with Moses and Elijah, he is thrilled. But instead of taking in the miracle of the moment, he imagines that he can make it last forever, and suggests establishing mountaintop living arrangements for these three religious superstars (Mk 9:5).  When Jesus wants to wash Peter’s feet at the Last Supper, Peter tries to show respect by refusing to accept such a menial service from his savior.  But when Jesus presses the issue, Peter loses his head entirely, proclaiming that if washing is the right thing, Jesus must wash his head and his hands, too, give him a full bath before the meal begins (John 13:2-11).

Peter is all in: he gives his whole heart and his whole life to Jesus. Yet somehow, Peter’s dedication doesn’t always get him where he wants to go. In so many stories, you can almost see the rest of the disciples rolling their eyes at the teacher’s pet. You can almost hear Jesus coughing back a laugh over his most dedicated, and most ridiculous disciple.

In the text today, Jesus is walking with his disciples from one town to the next. He asks them, “Who do people say that I am?” and then, “Who do you say that I am?”  Peter is the only one who is brave enough or sure enough to say out loud, “You are the Messiah.”  Score one for Peter.

But just after this, Jesus begins to explain what his life as the Messiah will be like. Jesus says that he must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the religious establishment, and be killed, and then rise again. Peter is outraged. How could such a holy man be destined for such a bitter end? Peter loses all control and actually begins rebuking Jesus for his teaching. Jesus replies, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Once again, Peter has missed the point. He loves Jesus so much that he can’t bring himself to accept what Jesus is saying about his suffering and death. Jesus gathers a whole crowd to tell them: If you want to follow me, deny yourself. Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.

The rebuke in today’s text are the harshest words that Jesus ever says to Peter in the gospels. This story is not, however, the end of Peter’s mistakes. In fact, Peter’s behavior goes downhill from here. Jesus tells his disciples two more times in the Gospel of Mark how his story will end (Mark 9:31 and 10:33-34), but Peter still can’t believe it.  Perhaps Peter imagines that Jesus must surely become an earthly ruler, or an honored religious leader. Maybe Peter even dreams that as Jesus’ right hand man, he also has a wonderful destiny in front of him.  Whatever the reason, Peter is unprepared when Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion finally come to pass. He is filled with grief. He is filled with fear. And in the midst of his grief and fear, Peter publicly denies following Jesus, three times, to protect himself (Lk 22:56-61). He betrays the one he loves so much. (more…)