SOUL’d OUT
October 11th, 2023
Psalm 18:19, ‘He stood me up in a wide-open field. I stood there saved; surprised to be loved!’ (MSG)
ROCK ON
Mark 14:37-38, ‘Then He returned to His disciples and found them sleeping. “Simon,” He said to Peter, “are you asleep? Couldn’t you keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”’ (NIV)
One of the greatest gifts we have been given by the Lord is the gift of His Word. We can carry it with us today everywhere we go because there are apps on our phones, and many homes even have at least one on a shelf. But the disciples, Jesus’ best friends, found themselves always at a disadvantage. They never knew what Jesus might do. Imagine the surprise the boys had to have felt as their Master began to disrobe, bowing before them with a bowl of sudsy water and a drying towel. Peter wasn’t having it. Let’s take a peek into this most amazing love affair.
Peter was just a big oaf, I think; ruddy, good-looking, risky, confident. I imagine his body to be as clumsy as his mouth. Whatever he thought fell right out, and his companions, I assume, had plenty of clean-up to do. Peter bulldozed his way through everything, over everything, beneath rubble even. Then, came Jesus. I think Jesus tongue-tied Peter. He caused him to pause. He made him a cornerstone, and on a rock like Peter, He built his church. I love that Jesus used someone so awkward and inept as Peter so greatly. That means there is hope for me.
I picture Simon Peter shaking his head, hands on hips, as he watched Jesus pull away from shore in his boat. It might have been the first time ever that Peter found himself with few words. Everything surrounding Jesus stupefied Peter. Time after time, we find Peter speechless, perplexed, eager to make sense of things that did not. Swallowing his words, this fisher of men couldn’t even haul in the catch of the day with nets bursting at the seams. Bewildered, he carried away a basket of leftovers after watching hordes of people being fed to their fill from nothing but some brokenness and a lot of blessing with which his Master surprised them; just another fulfillment Jesus created that Peter, among many, couldn’t wrap his head around. Beleaguered, Peter finds himself tiptoeing across the surface of the sea until he trips over his own distrust and doubt, and plunges below the waves.
We have the gift of knowing what happens. It’s a story to us. To Peter, it was a lifestyle, a life that Jesus radically changed. We find unending dialogue between Peter and his Master, this bulky, burly boy who is now bewitched by his Savior, clumsily willing to do anything asked of him. He stands in awe of Him, understandably, at a loss, anywhere Jesus is concerned. Suddenly, we find Jesus bowed at Peter’s feet, intent on scrubbing them, and Peter declares an abject ‘No!’ Until he discovers the purpose for this washing of his feet by his Lord, and instantly, Peter begs Jesus to dunk all of him in the cleansing waters. Perhaps Peter even thought if Jesus would merely flood him with Himself, he could respond more aptly, live more wholesomely. Maybe he could be just like Jesus. I presume, like me, Peter learned he could not breathe apart from Jesus. Not one bone in Peter’s body can conceive of himself ever walking away and betraying his best friend. Isn’t it crazy how quickly the seductiveness of Satan can become?! Peter is insistent; he would never, no never, deny the Christ.
And then the unthinkable happens. And it happened so fast. Jesus had been warning them, but what did they know? They were just a bunch of fishermen—turned fishers of men—once unruly, now saved and changed. Peter certainly could not bear to see them drag away his best friend, his Master. But when the going got tough, Peter got going. Not once, not twice, but three times, Peter disowned the best friend he had ever had. And as the hollow words fell from his lips—‘I don’t know what you are talking about! No such thing! I did not associate with that person!’—the rooster crowed, and the sound of silence and loneliness echoed in the man’s chest. The doodle of the cock suppressed and broke the brazen cockiness of a self-assured man and brought him to his knees.
I think I know what Peter went through within; the battle, the foe he fought internally, the absolute disgust with which he saw himself. I think I know. Because I have been there. I have let Him down. I have rejected Jesus. I have walked away. I have chosen other gods before Him. I have put myself on a pedestal only designed for Jesus, and when I failed, I put other things there; other people decorated my throne. I have heard the cock crow in the wee hours of the morning as I shamefully turned my back on Jesus, lifting my hands to others, as I held my heart out to things that would never satisfy, dipped my head in fountains that long since had run dry. I know what it is like to abandon my faith, to silence His voice inside of me when I didn’t want to hear it, to walk away.
I also know what it is like to stumble home, a prodigal on a long dusty road, seeking the acceptance of a Father I let down. I know what it is like to cup my hand over my eyes, unable to believe what they are seeing—the blessed gait of my Father toward me, the relentless pursuit as He chases after me, the feeling of His arms pulling me close into His embrace, the emotion of His gaze upon my face as He welcomes me home. I know what it is to look at the shore from the hull of my dinghy, finding Jesus there, the blessing of what He broke for me waiting as I wash ashore, His peace calming my storm. Peter and I could share some stories.
I also know what it is like to become so soul’d out to Jesus, it is hard to function after spending time in His presence. To be wrecked beyond reason at the time I wasted, the days I let Him down, the moments I denied Him. I understand the measurability of His love with which His eyes sought Peter’s because His gaze found me too. I know what it is like to plunge into the depths of living water, to go all in, after recognizing Him standing on the shores of my life, beckoning me to Him, with a pot of coffee and a conversation. To place my heart upon shaky knees at the foot of the Cross, so grateful for another chance to walk with Him, so humbled by His redemption for me. Wash all of me, Lord; not just my feet! My head, my soul, wipe me clean.
Peter is mentioned more times in the Bible than any other disciple. He tripped over his own words and fell madly in love with this Savior. He soul’d out, and in the end, suffered a gruesome crucifixion, upside down, because he felt unworthy to die in the same fashion as His Lord. Priceless is the love of God, because even when we stagger, His grace picks us up, dusts us off, and sets us free.
Psalms 42:11, ‘Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul? Why are you crying the blues? Fix my eyes on God—soon I’ll be praising again. He puts a smile on my face. He is my
