Came from somewhere. From someone.

This is basic epistemology: None of us knows anything apart from someone else teaching us something. Even the most novel scientific discovery is reached on the shoulders of other novel scientific discoveries.

Faith is no different.

Until long after the fact. Hindsight is 20/20, as the saying goes. Not always, but sometimes a meaningless detail in the past suddenly becomes clear in the present.

That interim period, however, can be uncomfortable. Confusing. Downright dark.

As we read the stories of Jesus as they are written, we are often immediately handed insights. “This took place to fulfill…” Details are spelled out as significant. Meaningful. Purposeful.

Yet it wasn’t exactly like that for those who lived and wrote it.

One thing that modern science is teaching us, across many branches, is the value of holistic health. All aspects of the human body are interconnected in countless subtle and obvious ways—brain, gut, nervous system, muscles, hair, bones—all of it. When one part suffers, other parts suffer as well. When one part is healthy, other parts benefit.

When there is a problem in one part of the body, rarely is it helpful to address the needs of that one part of the body. Attention and care must often be given to multiple other parts of our body in order to encourage healing.

Telling the truth was already not an option for Peter as he continued to warm himself by the fire in the High Priest’s courtyard. A servant girl had already recognized him, and asked if he was a disciple of Jesus as well. In his fear, he lied. And now, around the fire, surrounded by strangers employed by the enemy who had just arrested his master, Peter had to keep up the pretense through two more inquiries.

The three denials Jesus had predicted.

This story has brought Peter a lot of grief over the years. Many a preacher has levied this scene as a means of shaming the flock into not being ashamed to admit to being a follower of Jesus. Fair enough. Many “heroes” in the Bible are certainly not heroes. We can learn from their mistakes just as much as their successes. But this story is much richer than the flat picture of Peter as an unfaithful, fearful liar.

Can get you slapped. Just ask Jesus. Especially towards the end of his life, telling the truth to those putting him on trial only served to seal his fate..

However, getting yourself into trouble is not necessarily a stamp of approval on the “truth” you spoke. Riling someone up doesn’t mean you were right. We can be easily misled into thinking of ourselves as martyrs when really we should have been mimes—silent.

Out in the light of day for all to see, in authenticity and transparency, means not having to defend yourself.

You can be free from that anxious drive toward self-defense that lies deep in your bones.

If nothing is secret, nothing needs protection. Nothing needs an alibi or justification. 

You can allow your life to speak for you. Others to speak for you. Your work to speak for you.

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.

And so are you. So is everyone ever.

Light and dark. Good and bad. Faithfulness and flakiness. Holiness and sinfulness. Trust and skepticism. Hope and cynicism.

In the Gospels, the disciples are our example par excellence of this. Perhaps Peter more than any other. The question that comes to my mind is, why do I seem to highlight his faults more than his strengths?

Yes, he sank into the water when Jesus called him, but he was the only one who even stepped out of the boat to set his feet upon the surface of the water. Yes, there was that time Jesus himself referred to him as Satan, but on another occasion he also called him Rock because he intended to build his church on him as the foundation. Yes, he denied Christ three times after his arrest, but he was also one of only two disciples who followed him to court.

Mob mentality is demonic. Fueled by the fires of hell itself. There has never been a mob bent on blessing, only destroying.

Flock mentality is Christ-like. Empowered by the light of heaven. A true flock of Jesus can never be characterized by violence.

This, as Paul and others would later point out, is indeed the great battle going on behind the curtain. The reality beneath our reality.

Or draw your sword. But you can’t do both.

You can learn to accept life as it comes to you—as your Father allows it to come to you—or you can fight your life when it’s not to your liking.

If you face your life like a soldier, ready for battle, there will be casualties. Someone’s gonna get hurt. And it may not be you. When we come out swinging, we’re bound to hit something or someone.