DENYING THE TRUTH BY DEFENDING IT: A lesson from Peter, the man of three swords
In the light of all that is happening in your world at the moment – Israel, Gaza, Russia, Ukraine, the American elections, the Olympic Games controversies, and all the woke, LGBTQ+ and transgender stuff – I feel it necessary to rectify a misconception about where and when I denied my Jesus. It’s important for you to know that it was not at the cross where the rooster crowed – that’s where I denied myself – it was in the Garden of Gethsemane where I pulled my sword – that’s where I denied my Lord.
Hi, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Cephas, perhaps better known to you as Peter, one of the twelve. You might even know me by my given name at birth, Simon, but I prefer Peter because this was the name given to me as an accolade of my loyalty and commitment. Yes, Jesus didn’t just rename me, he retitled me: from Simon – God has heard – to Peter – ROCK (John 1:42). Not without good reason though. I am rock solid, loyal to the point of death. I will defend a cause and fight for a purpose. If we had social media in my time, I would have used every platform to stand up, and speak out, for the truth. I am Peter – the rock!
Most of you reading this letter probably think that my denial of Jesus at the cross was the turning point in my life. I denied Him in his hour of need. And I suspect many of you defend the Lord so passionately because you too fear that friends will call you a spineless coward who is not willing to defend the truth. What can be more condemning and shameful than not standing up for the Truth of the Gospel? Well, there was actually another moment of denial that I would like to share with you. My betrayal in the garden.
So, there I was, Peter, the only one standing between my Master, his enemies and his imminent crucifixion (John 18). Just me, my sword and my short temper. My loyalty knew no bounds and I knew I would be tested in a level not tested before. And I was resolute not to fail. Jesus might have predicted His death, but it was not going to happen on my watch. I didn’t come to Gethsemane armed with my sword for nothing. I will defend my master, my faith, (and my interpretation of His truth for that matter) with my life.
Yes, I knew all His teachings of loving your enemy and praying for your persecutors, but this was reality. You might even feel the same about your enemies; Hamas, the terrorists, the Olympic organisers, that little blue naked man, and those that threaten the sanctity of your truth. You know what I’m talking about. The teachings of Jesus were life-changing, yes, but this was desperate and desperate circumstances demanded desperate measures.
So, I drew my sword. This is why my fellow disciples referred to me as “Peter, the man of three swords.” Yep, this branded me with my first sword: Peter with a sword of violence. But I drew it anyway.
Friends, please don’t go over the details of this event too quickly. You might just qualify as a defender of faith as well and, just like me, you might miss more than the target, you might miss the point. In my loyal zeal, by defending the truth, I actually denied Jesus. Got that? I denied who He was, what He came to do, and why He willingly surrendered His life.
Armed with swords, clubs and torches, a band of about two hundred soldiers and temple guards arrived in Gethsemane. I came prepared. They were led by my once fellow disciple, Judas. If I could have pierced one heart that night it would have been his. His betrayal of Jesus and disregard for the truth pierced our hearts beyond redemption and avenging his betrayal would have been sweet. Yes, I know vengeance belongs to the Lord, but this was different.
Like a lamb led to slaughter, Jesus surrendered himself without as much as a protest. It was like He had rehearsed this before. He allowed these soldiers to bind His hands—hands that had healed the sick, blessed children, and done so many miracles (John 18:8-12). If only I knew what was to follow, I would have contained my anger. Before being led away to the cross, Jesus would do one last act of healing with those blessed hands, and that on an enemy who I came to slaughter. If only I knew that this represented the truth I was defending, I would have acted differently.
So, I swung my sword. OK, so I missed my target. Remember, I’m a fisherman, not a swordsman. The blade of my sword was aimed at Judas, next to the High priest and then whoever was next in line. But for the life of me, I did not intend to hit Malchus. Poor Malchus, the pathetic little snitch and personal assistant to Caiaphas, the High Priest
My excuse for missing – it was dark. Very dark. In the darkness, I swung my sword through the air. I lunged towards the group and aimed for the head of Judas. How I hit Malchus I don’t know. Accident or divine – I’m still trying to figure that one out. Perhaps in the dim light, Malchus saw the shining blade coming his way and, throwing his weight to one side, survived the attack.
But listen to this irony, and perhaps this is where the divine enters. The chief duty of Malchus involved listening. He was the “ear” of Caiaphas. Malchus listened to the Roman militia that occupied Jerusalem. He listened to the Pharisees, the Herodians, and even the common folks. Malchus then reported all that was significant back to Caiaphas. Malchus was most probably also the one tracking Jesus for the three years of His public ministry and reported every word to the High Priest. What an irony that he was the one that lost his ear.
You should have been there. Even in the darkness, I could see Malchus grabbing the right side of his head to find his ear gone and his head bleeding profusely. Remember, Malchus was a snitch, a spy that relied completely on his ears for information. His ears were like the hands of a surgeon, irreplaceable.
And then, can I ever forget this, for the last time Jesus used His hands, which would soon be nailed to a cross, to restore what was so precious to His attacker. He healed Malchus and restored his hearing. With one touch, my enemy became His object of grace.
You have to pause here for a moment to contemplate this TRUTH. YOUR enemy – yes you – your enemy is an object of His grace. He died for Hamas, He died for Netanyahu, He died for Trump and for Harris, for Malema and Zuma. Don’t betray him by denying this truth.
Shame overwhelmed me. What did my sword-wielding action accomplish? Was I helping the Lord here? No; not only did I do damage to Malchus, but I brought shame to the Lord and his reputation as a man of peace, a lover of souls, a healer and a miracle worker. Instead of getting out of the way, I got in the way. With my sword dripping with blood, I was more ready for Armageddon than for the Passion. With one action I denied everything that came from the lips of Jesus. I denied the truth by defending it
I realised, and take a page from my book here, that many defenders of faith often respond like I did when we see more of the enemy around us than we do the guilt within us. We are so easily persuaded to see our faith as a cause for which we must fight. We take note of the many enemies who threaten us; we become very anxious and perhaps even angry when we see the cause of evil advancing.
I should have remembered that as a follower of Christ, our faith is not, in sum and substance, a cause to be fought outside of us as much as a work of grace within us. That grace causes us to rest in the finished work of Christ. If we had to add one sword stroke to the cause of our salvation, we would be lost forever.[1]
No wonder, then, that the Lord rebuked me: “Put your sword back in its place! Do you think that I will not drink the cup of suffering which my Father has given me?” (John 18:11).
This steel sword of violence was not the kind of sword Jesus wanted me to wield. But I only discovered this later.
The rebuke crippled me. To such an extent that I had no courage left to defend my Lord again. There in in the courtyard of the high priest, I denied Jesus three times. Not once, not twice, but three times. After the third denial, I heard the rooster crow and saw Jesus turn to look at me. Oh, my Lord! The floodgates opened. The look in His eyes. Anguish and remorse completely overwhelmed me. Not only did I fail my Lord in the garden, but I failed him on the cross. This sorrow would later be referred to by my fellow disciples as my second sword: Peter with a sword of sorrow. This second sword didn’t only hurt Malchus and Jesus but it pierced my soul.
As the rooster crowed I realised, and this might surprise you, that even though I rejected the sneers of the crowd that saw me as one of His followers, I realised hat I actually denied who I was and not who Jesus was. He was fulfilling His consecration, taking the sins of a broken world on His shoulders and nailing it to the cross, while I denied my identity as a follower of what He came to accomplish. By defending the truth with aggression, and by denying the Truth with shame, I betrayed my own witness as a messenger of the One who proclaimed to be TRUTH. In one moment I, Peter “the Rock”, turned back into Simon “God has heard”.
Fortunately, and my name bears testimony to this, I am the man with three swords, not just the first two. The final sword attributed to me was the sword of truth. After Jesus’ death and resurrection, I boldly preached the message of the cross in Jerusalem. The result was that many were “cut to the heart” by the powerful “sword of the Spirit.” This third sword—the sword of truth—was the one Jesus wanted me to wield and never let go.[2]
But, and please take note of this, my Gethsemane truth and my post-cross truth were not the same anymore. I no longer explored the events around me as a great conflict in which I was supposed to be the hero who could help win a great victory and save the world from deception and corruption. I realised that if truth is truth, it need not be defended, it needs to be proclaimed. The truth of the Gospel is found in Christ, on the cross, and in an empty grave. We need not expose it, fight it, or defend it, not with swords and not with words. We simply need to live it, present it, and proclaim it. It is no longer “What is truth?” but “Who is truth?”
So, my question to you after reading my story and smiling at my erratic behaviour. How did you respond to the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games? How did you respond on 7 October and the subsequent war in Gaza? Did you draw your sword to defend the truth and subsequently denied Jesus? What sword do you carry?
This is truth:
Mat 5:44 But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.
[1] Adapted from: https://www.christianstudylibrary.org/article/healing-malchus’s-ear
[2] Adapted from https://www.simplybible.com/f448-2pet-peters-three-swords.htm