59/365 Peter

No stranger to failure
I have spent my share of days pulling up empty nets
Never afraid to drop them back down
You chose a day like that to step into my boat
Had the nerve to tell me to give it yet another go
And on which side they should be cast.
A carpenter, telling fishermen how to fish
I still don't know why I listened.

You called me with a miracle.
I have never seen a catch burst the nets like that
You gave me the best fishing day of my life
Then asked me to walk away from my boat
And I never looked back
I wandered with you everywhere
Witnessing the miraculous happen so often
It became routine
I grew accustomed to being wrong
To always asking the dumb questions
For which you always had a smart answer.
You never intended for us to get it on the first try.

The day I said you were the Messiah
You called me Peter.
My name means "the rock"
Promised I would be the foundation of your church
Hold the keys to heaven
But the day I said I would never let your life be taken from you
You said, "Get behind me, Satan!"
Because my motives were men's and not God's
I didn't see that coming.

There are things a man swears he will never do.
There are times when our bodies betray our oath.
We were knit so tightly
I could not imagine that I could deny knowing you
On the same night you broke the bread
In the garden, I couldn't even stay awake for you
You had to wake me, twice
And when that traitor came to kiss you
You can bet I wasn't going to break my word a third time
I drew my sword on the first of them to get close enough
Took his ear off.
Nobody was taking you down without a fight.
But you,
Never miss a chance for a miracle.
Had to stick that thing back on him like nothing ever happened
In front of the very men who came to drag you off.
And then you let them take you.

Had you not told me I would deny you three times
Had I not sworn you were wrong
Had the cock not crowed at that moment
As you assured me it would
I could have forgiven myself
But not the third time,
The sound of that crow
The echo of your voice.
The ache of lead in the stomach.
Of "what have I done"

When you came back
And asked, "Peter, do you love me?"
It stung. Of course I did.
And when you asked the second time
It broke my heart.
When you asked me the third time
I told you, "I love you!"
The third time, I understood what you were doing.
That this was not a question.
This was redemption.
This was you, tying off every loose end.
This was you, making everything right.