Peter looked Jesus in the eye and made one of the boldest declarations of loyalty recorded in Scripture:
“Lord, I am ready to go with thee, both into prison, and to death.”
Peter meant it.
He wasn’t whispering. He wasn’t uncertain. He wasn’t saying, “Lord, I’ll try.”
Peter was saying, I’m with You. Whatever it costs me, wherever this goes, I’m not leaving Your side.
And before the sun came up, Peter had denied three times that he even knew Jesus.
Has anyone seen Peter?
Before we answer too quickly, maybe we ought to put our own names there.
What promise have you made that you couldn’t keep?
What did you swear you would never do again—only to find yourself right back there?
What responsibility did you walk away from? What temptation did you think you had conquered? What relationship with God did you assume would always remain strong?
Peter got lost.
Not geographically. Peter got lost spiritually.
And if we trace his steps, we discover that Peter didn’t suddenly wake up one morning and decide to deny Jesus. His failure came after a series of smaller spiritual compromises.
One domino fell.
Then another.
Then another.
And another.
Peter’s story is not ultimately a story about failure. It is a story about God’s grace after failure.
Because when Peter got lost, Jesus went looking for him.
Peter’s first domino was pride.
When Peter said he was willing to go to prison and even die with Jesus, his words sounded spiritual. But underneath them was a dangerous confidence in his own strength.
Peter essentially said, I’ve got this.
How many times have we said the same thing?
I can handle it.
I don’t need any help.
I’ll never go back there.
I would never do that.
I know myself.
Be careful.
There is a difference between trusting God to keep you and trusting yourself not to fall.
Peter believed his love for Jesus was strong enough to carry him through anything. But our strength has never been the thing that carries us.
Dependence on Jesus is.
Pride convinces us that we are stronger than the temptation in front of us. And when we become convinced that we cannot fall, we stop watching where we are walking.
That first domino may seem small.
But once pride says, I’ve got this, prayer starts to seem less necessary.
And then the second domino begins to fall.
Only hours after Peter declared that he would die for Jesus, Jesus took Peter, James and John with Him into Gethsemane.
Jesus told them:
“Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.”
But Peter fell asleep.
Think about that.
Peter was ready to die for Jesus, but he couldn’t stay awake and pray with Jesus.
We cannot make bold declarations of faith while neglecting the very relationship that gives us strength to live them out.
That ought to be a warning to all of us.
Prayerlessness rarely announces itself as rebellion.
It looks harmless.
I’m tired.
I’ll pray later.
I’ll get back into Bible study.
I know what the Word says.
I’m doing fine.
But while we are sleeping spiritually, temptation is not.
The enemy is still going to and fro, seeking whom he may devour.
When prayer disappears, we begin operating on our own wisdom. And when we operate on our own wisdom long enough, we start making decisions without ever asking God what He wants us to do.
That brings us to the third domino.
When the soldiers came to arrest Jesus, Peter pulled out his sword and cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant.
Peter was bold.
Peter was courageous.
Peter was also fighting the wrong battle.
He was ready to fight with steel what could only be won through submission.
That is presumption.
Presumption can look a lot like faith because it acts confidently. But confidence is not the same thing as obedience.
Peter never stopped to ask, Jesus, what do You want me to do?
He just swung.
And some of us have been swinging ever since.
We make the move.
We send the message.
We end the relationship.
We take the job.
We spend the money.
We confront the person.
We decide what God must want—and then ask Him to bless the decision after we have already made it.
But when you are praying, studying His Word and developing a relationship with God, you don’t have to live by presumption.
You can live by consultation.
Before you swing, ask God.
Before you move, ask God.
Before you assume you know what He wants, spend enough time with Him to hear what He is saying.
Because decisions made without God can move us into places we never intended to be.
Which leads us to Peter’s fourth domino.
Matthew tells us:
“But Peter followed him afar off…”
That may be one of the saddest descriptions of Peter in Scripture.
He was still following Jesus.
But from a distance.
Peter hadn’t completely walked away. He stayed close enough to see what was happening—but far enough away that he could blend into the crowd.
Then he sat down with the servants.
He warmed himself by their fire.
And there, surrounded by the wrong people, in the wrong place, warming himself at the wrong fire, somebody recognized him.
You were with Jesus.
Peter denied it.
Then he denied it again.
And finally, with cursing and swearing:
I do not know the man.
The rooster crowed.
Peter had arrived at the very place he had sworn he would never go.
But notice how he got there.
Pride.
Prayerlessness.
Presumption.
Proximity.
The denial was not the first domino.
It was the last one.
You can still see Jesus from a distance. You can even look like you are following Him. But the farther you get from Jesus, the easier it becomes to get comfortable beside the wrong fire.
That ought to make every one of us ask:
What fire am I warming myself by?
Who has my ear?
Who has my time?
Who is shaping my thinking?
How closely am I following Jesus?
Because you can still see Jesus from a distance.
You can still come to church from a distance.
You can still know the songs from a distance.
You can still know when to say “Amen” from a distance.
You can even look like you are following Him.
But the farther you get from Jesus, the easier it becomes to get comfortable around fires you have no business sitting beside.
After Peter denied Jesus, Scripture says he went out and wept bitterly.
“And Peter went out, and wept bitterly.”
Imagine what must have been going through his mind.
I said I would die for Him.
I said I would never leave Him.
He told me this would happen.
And I did it anyway.
Then Jesus was crucified.
He bled. He suffered. He died. They placed Him in a borrowed tomb.
And Peter was left with his failure.
So what did Peter do?
He eventually went back to what he knew.
Fishing.
Back to the water.
Back to the nets.
Back to the place where Jesus had found him in the first place.
Isn’t that just like us?
Sometimes when we fail, we go backward.
We return to old habits, old places, old thinking and old versions of ourselves.
We assume our failure has disqualified us from our calling.
But Peter’s story doesn’t end with a fishing net.
And neither does yours.
After His resurrection, Jesus went looking for Peter.
And He found him near the same waters where their journey had begun.
Then Jesus did something beautiful.
He built a charcoal fire.
Peter had been warming himself beside a charcoal fire when he denied Jesus.
“And the servants and officers stood there, who had made a fire of coals; for it was cold: and they warmed themselves: and Peter stood with them, and warmed himself.”
Now, on the shore of Galilee, Jesus had breakfast waiting beside another fire of coals.
“As soon then as they were come to land, they saw a fire of coals there, and fish laid thereon, and bread.”
The smell itself must have carried Peter back to that terrible night.
But Jesus was not recreating the scene to humiliate Peter.
He was redeeming it.
Peter may have expected condemnation.
Jesus gave him grace.
Peter may have expected a lecture.
Jesus gave him breakfast.
Peter may have thought his failure was the end of his calling.
Jesus was preparing to send him back to work.
Grace does not pretend the failure never happened. Grace meets us right there and refuses to let failure have the final word.
That is God’s grace after failure.
Jesus took Peter aside and asked him a simple question:
Peter, do you love Me?
“Yes, Lord.”
A little later:
Peter, do you love Me?
“Yes, Lord.”
Then a third time:
Do you love Me?
Three denials.
Three questions.
And then came the assignment:
“Feed my sheep.”
In other words:
Peter, you’re not finished.
Your failure did not cancel your calling.
Get up.
Go forward.
There is still work for you to do.
That is the part somebody needs to hear.
You may have done what they said you did.
But you are not who they say you are.
You are not the worst thing you have ever done.
You are not the promise you broke.
You are not the night you failed.
You are not the place you went back to.
If you belong to Jesus Christ, you have been bought with a price.
And the same Jesus who went looking for Peter still knows how to find His people.
So let me change the question.
Has anyone seen Peter?
Yes.
Jesus has.
But what about you?
Where are you?
Did pride convince you that you could handle life without depending on God?
Did prayerlessness slowly weaken a relationship that used to be strong?
Have you been acting on presumption instead of seeking God’s direction?
Have you followed Jesus from farther and farther away until you found yourself warming your hands beside the wrong fire?
Then hear the good news.
Jesus still knows where to find you.
And He does not come looking for you just to remind you of what you did wrong.
He comes with grace.
He comes with restoration.
He comes calling you back into relationship.
And He comes reminding you that there is still something for you to do.
Failure may be part of your story. But because of God’s grace after failure, it does not have to be the end of your story.
The fire is already burning.
Jesus is waiting.
The question is:
Where are you?
