Courage to Turn: Peter, The Rooster, and the Invitation to Repentance

In the grand scheme of Peter’s life, we know this moment as his falling. We cringe at the prophecy of Jesus given only days before—before the rooster crows, you will have denied me three times—and hold our breath at Peter’s fierce rebuttal that he’s going to do the right thing. 

Oh sweet, relatable Peter. 

And yet, in every one of the four gospels, when the time actually comes, terror grips Peter. 

Luke’s retelling informs us that in the huddle of people by the fire stands a relative of the soldier whose ear Peter had chopped off hours prior—not a good look for Peter, especially in this shadowy courtyard where the walls themselves have ears prepared to tattle the story: we found another one of them, and it’s even the wild one who cut that soldier’s ear off! 

Before Peter knows what he’s doing, he’s spewing lies about who he is and who he is in relation to his Good Teacher, sticky shame gurgling up like thick mud around his ankles and slowly rising until it’s suffocating him, until he’s shouting to defend himself from all those insidious ears in the walls.

And then, above the roar of his own panic, the rooster crows. 

Thank God for the rooster. 

Yes, thank God for the rooster because who knows what else Peter would have done or said if the rooster had kept silent. What could have happened if Peter had not been called back to himself and his Lord, reminded of what was true about him? With no prompting to flee, would he have stuck around the fire longer, his paper thin lies eventually exposed? Would he have been captured or executed, knowing the last thing he’d done was betray his best friend? 

As I read this familiar story, I’m realizing that the rooster isn’t some cruel, shame-filled punishment from Jesus, not a taunting, see, I knew you couldn’t do it. 

Rather, the rooster is a gentle reminder that it’s time to go, to turn and see Jesus catch Peter’s eye across the courtyard, giving him a look that is full of both grief and forgiveness. 

The rooster is a hand reaching down into the waves that have turned into mud, ready to pull Peter out from the waves and winds of terror once again. 

The rooster is the particular voice of Jesus that cuts through chaos and says, oh friend, I love you, and this isn’t what I have for you. Why did you doubt? 

No wonder Peter breaks down and weeps. 

This Lenten season, what is the rooster crowing in your courtyard? Where are you having a disproportionate or defensive reaction in your body to something unexpected? Where are you drifting into territory that is hidden and anxious and messy? What is the grace-filled alarm that is calling you back to your identity—your identity in relation to your Good Father? And what is reminding you that you are beloved, giving you the courage to move towards that truth again? 

Friends, do not let the Liar convince you that the rooster you’re hearing is punishment. Instead, listen to Jesus, who reminds us with love in his eyes that the rooster is grace. The rooster is an invitation to repentance. The rooster is hope.