Seeing the Splendor of the Son

Throughout Lent we will be entering the stories of those who met and followed Jesus of Nazareth. This morning, I share with you a letter from Peter about his experiences as a disciple of the Rabbi.
Dear believer and doubters, I write to you about this Jesus whom you seek to know. I was fishing with my brother, Andrew, when I met him. It had been an ordinary day for us – casting our net, hauling in our catch. The sun’s rays shimmered brightly across the water. You couldn’t see beyond the surface.
We had just pulled the net up, full of flopping fish that had just been concealed a moment before and now were so apparent, when he passed by preaching, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” I felt like I had been living my whole life only looking at the surface, the day to day, the mundane. Here was this man who asked us to follow him to transform the world one life at a time.

We left our nets and followed him – all over Galilee. Every town we came to, we went first to the synagogue and he taught. He healed every ailment – sickness, disease, blindness, the lame he made to walk. He even healed my mother-in-law. We came home to Capernaum, and when we walked into the house she was in bed with fever. Jesus went to her and touched her, and the fever left her. Everywhere we went, we saw the depth of his compassion, the depth of his love.

Of course the crowds grew. Sometimes he would need to get away. There were twelve of us who were closest to him, and we would go up a mountainside and gather in close around as he taught us.

One day he drew away in a boat to have some time apart, he went across the water to the far shore. But the crowds followed him on foot and were there when he came ashore. There was no place to eat, and in the whole crowd there were only 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish, but he blessed them and broke them and 5,000 men and the women and children with them ate and were satisfied. But that wasn’t the only miracle that day. Once the crowd was satisfied, he did get some time alone. The twelve of us when ahead and got into the boat and put out a little way. It was a foggy night, and in the mist we thought we saw someone coming toward us on the water, but we couldn’t really see. We were afraid it was a ghost. Then the figure spoke, “Take heart,” he said, “It is I; have no fear.” I shouted back, “Lord, if it is you, bid me come to you on the water.” And he told me to come.

In that moment, I glimpsed his power. You know if someone stands on the bank of the lake and looks into the water, most of the time the glare of the sunlight only allows the surface to be seen. Well, when I stepped out of the boat, it was like the shadow of the boat in the moonlight allowed me to see below the surface, to trust Jesus more deeply.

I stepped right out of the boat and started toward him. Then I thought about what I was doing and started to doubt, and I started to sink. He reached out and caught me. His words still reverberate in my thoughts, “O man of little faith, why did you doubt?”

As we were getting ready to head to Jerusalem the last time he asked us who people said he was. People were always wondering if he was Elijah, or John the Baptist, or a prophet returned. And then he looked at us and asked, “Who do you say that I am?” It was just like that moment when I stepped out of the boat, I didn’t hesitate, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” He called me “Blessed.” He said, “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it.”

My father named me Simon, but Jesus called me Peter because Peter means “rock.”

Six days later he took James, John and me up a high mountain, and Moses and Elijah were there. I tend to be, shall we say, responsive. I am quick to act. I am the one who steps out of boats, who speaks first, and I was ready to build booths for them. I wanted to hold onto it, to capture it. The cloud of the divine hovered over us casting a shadow of brilliance that revealed the depths of Jesus’ identity, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him.” I could see who he was; in that moment, it was like I could see all the way to the bottom of the sea.

Believers and doubters, I write to you so that you may know that I didn’t always see the depths. I didn’t always understand who Jesus was. Even after we came back down the mountain, I couldn’t see the way led to the cross. I boasted that I would never fall away, but I slept while he was in the Garden that night. I denied him three times while he was with Caiaphas, the high priest.

And his words pound in my ears, as they transform me daily: “O man of little faith, why did you doubt?” “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it.”
As you travel with Jesus to Jerusalem, there will be moments that you believe and moments that you doubt. There will be times the glint on the water keeps you from seeing deeper, and there will be times you see to depths that threaten to transform you. There will be moments you want to act quickly and impulsively. There will be moments you want to cherish and prolong. Yet, the destination is not reached without the journey.
Your brother in Christ,
Simon Peter, the Rock

This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday and we begin the journey of Lent. We are marked by ashes, the ashes of the palm fronds from last year’s Palm Sunday processional. Because we, like Peter, see Jesus in his glory and deny him too. We use ashes to remember that we came from dust and we return to dust, but with those ashes we are marked by a cross because dust does not define us, we are defined and marked as God’s own in our baptism. As Christians we don’t follow the ways of the world around us, and we no longer follow our own way. We follow Christ. We give up our own agenda for our lives, our opinions, our preferences, our will, and give ourselves to Jesus. The ashes remind us that our old self has died, and we are now alive in Christ. We pause to gaze deeply, to see beyond the surface of the ordinary to the depths of our identity as God’s own beloved, revealed in the splendor of his Son.