In dimly-lit darkness, surrounded by no one but the enemy, watching everything crumble around you in slow-motion, it’s tempting to lie just to save your own skin.
Peter did it. Probably without thinking. I imagine it as one of those moments when it feels like words are throwing themselves out of your mouth rather than you speaking them. Like an out-of-body experience when you see yourself saying something stupid—again, in slow-motion—but you’re unable to shout loud enough or fast enough to stop your dumb-ass self.
Instant regret. Instant shame. Instant self-entrapment into a story that you now have to stick to or else worse things might happen.
What are we to make of Peter’s unvarnished humanity? What are we to make of our own unvarnished humanity?
Knowing the rest of the story, three words come to mind: understanding, grace, and redemption.
