The God of New Beginnings

Our text for meditation is from John's Gospel, chapter eighteen, beginning at verse fifteen. Simon Peter and another disciple were following Jesus. Because this disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the high priest's courtyard, but Peter had to wait outside at the door. The other disciple, who was known to the high priest, came back, spoke to the servant girl on duty there, and brought Peter in. “You aren't one of this man's disciples too, are you?” she asked Peter. He replied, “I am not.” It was cold, and the servants and officials stood around a fire they had made to keep warm. Peter also was standing with them, warming himself. I want to speak today on the God of new beginnings.

People out there like to say, “Don't fear failure. Failure is fuel.” But those of you who have actually gone through failure know it is not so easy to treat your failures as fuel. I am talking about real failure — failure in academics, in career, in family life, in the workplace, in relationships, even in ministry. It can happen to any of us.

While I was preparing this sermon, a day from my own childhood came alive again. In the ninth standard, our class teacher announced the mathematics marks, and I had failed. You can imagine what that was like in our home. There were just the two of us, my elder sister and me, and she was the top of the school in mathematics — she went on to do her M.Sc. and M.Ed. in mathematics, scoring a rank in the university. And there I was, her younger sibling, coming home that day with the report. My parents asked, “Did you get your results? How did you do?” Everything was fine — except one subject. Mathematics. I did not feel that it was fuel. If someone had looked at my face that day and said, “Don't fear this failure,” I would not have believed them. It was humiliating. It was depressing.

Perhaps it happened to you only last week or last month, when your boss called you in and said, “We are disappointed by your performance. You did not meet your target. You are a liability to this company.” I don't think you sat there feeling that this was fueling your journey. You felt as though the whole world had turned against you. You will never forget the way you walked out of that office — cheeks burning, tears and sweat all over your face, wondering, what now? Failures are inevitable.

At the funeral of the famous evangelist Billy Graham, one of his daughters' eulogies stood out. Ruth Graham spoke, and her words were different from the others because of what she dared to mention. She said that she had been married for twenty-one years and was then divorced. She went to live with her elder sister, and there, feeling very insecure, she began thinking of another relationship and started dating another man. Billy Graham called from one part of the world and said, “Ruth, slow down.” Her mother called from another part of the world and said, “Ruth, you need more time. Slow down.”

But Ruth, in her own words, says, “I acted willfully, sinfully, stubbornly.” She went ahead into that relationship, and within twenty-four hours she discovered she had made the wrong choice. In five weeks she was on her way back. She decided to go to her father's house, which sits on a mountainside with a long drive up to it. “I still remember that day,” she says. “As I drove up, I could see from the bottom of the hill that my father was already standing there.” She thought he would be furious, full of corrections — “I told you not to do this. I knew you would come back.” But, she says, “When I got out of the car, my father simply embraced me. There was no blame, no shame, no condemnation.” And then Ruth Graham said this: “My father was not God. But that day I knew what God looks like.”

Failures are inevitable, my friends. Even if you are born into a very affluent family, even if you are born to a father like Billy Graham, failure can still come. I will not even ask whether anyone here has never failed — I assume all of us have failed, in one way or another. As I prepared this message, I also walked back through the last couple of years of our own family. I understand the pain when you are of an age to be married and, for some reason, it is just not happening; when proposals come one after another and nothing works out; when people begin to pray over you in public and put their arms around you and say, “Don't worry, it will happen this year.” We have walked those roads. And I understand the pain when you have been married two, five, ten years and there is still no child, and others keep saying, “It's coming, it's coming.” Failure is something you cannot escape.

When I look at this passage, John eighteen, fifteen through eighteen, I cannot think of anyone in the New Testament who shows us better how to bounce back after failure than Peter. Each disciple of Jesus could be summed up in some way. John is remembered as the one whom Jesus loved. James, the one whom Jesus corrected. Matthew, the one whom Jesus received just as he was, a tax collector. Philip, the one whom Jesus tested. And Peter — Peter is the one whom Jesus restored. The God of new beginnings.

Who was this man Peter? By popular knowledge, he was one of the first two whom Jesus called, and he became the spokesperson of the group; out of the twelve, he stood out. People have observed that he thinks second and draws his sword first. He speaks first, acts first, and only afterward wonders whether he got it right. He was also a man who kept jumping out of the boat — when Jesus walked on the water, Peter wanted to climb out to Him; and in John twenty-one, when the beloved disciple said, “It is the Lord,” Peter threw himself into the sea.

There is another glimpse of him in John twenty-one. From verse eighteen, Jesus tells Peter that he will have to pay a heavy price, that following Him is like a kernel of wheat that must fall and die. And do you know Peter's immediate response in verse twenty-one? Seeing John, he asks, “Lord, what about him?” You have told me what it will cost me — but what about him? Some of us connect well with Peter here: we are concerned about ourselves, but we are even more concerned about everyone else.

Those who study the Scriptures carefully suggest that it was probably his marriage that brought Peter to settle in Capernaum — we read of Jesus visiting Peter's house and praying for his mother-in-law there. It may be that marriage moved him from Bethsaida all the way to Capernaum. Two things stand out about him. He left his nets at the very peak of his success — remember Luke chapter five, when the catch was so great, and Jesus said, “Follow me,” and Peter left it all. Luke five, verse eleven, and Luke eighteen, verse twenty-eight, both record that Peter belonged to the group who left everything behind to follow Jesus. For all his impulsiveness, this was a man who paid the ultimate price of discipleship.

And yet, looking at his life overall, he missed the mark again and again — just as he once missed Malchus's head and caught only his ear. One moment Jesus asks, “Who do people say I am?” and Peter answers gloriously, “You are the Son of the living God.” The very next moment, when Jesus speaks of going to suffer, Peter says, “Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you,” and he misses it completely. And then there is the man who denied Jesus three times. My honest thought has been: evangelists, why did you even record this episode? You could have skipped it. Yet not one but all four Gospel writers felt they had to set it down — Peter's denial. How did it happen, Peter? You had Jesus as your mentor for three years. You saw the miracles, heard the teaching, cast out demons, confessed Him as the Christ, and Jesus called you the rock on which He would build His church. How did you fall? I see three things that led Peter to that denial.

First, Peter failed to acknowledge his own vulnerability. He gave no room to the thought that he might fail. Look at Mark fourteen, verse twenty-seven — the same scene appears in Matthew twenty-six, thirty-three, and Luke twenty-two, thirty-three. Jesus says, “You will all fall away, for it is written: I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered. But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.” And how does Peter respond in verse twenty-nine? It does not merely say Peter said; it says Peter declared: “Even if all fall away, I will not.” Look at that confidence — that foolish confidence. He never paused to think that Jesus might be speaking about him. Sunday after Sunday he assumed every warning was meant for someone else.

We see the same thing in John thirteen, verse thirty-seven. Peter asks, “Lord, why can't I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.” And in the next verse Jesus answers, “Will you really lay down your life for me? Very truly I tell you, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” Give space, Peter — space to ask others to pray for you, space to look at Jesus and say, “Without you, there is a chance that I may fail.” I see that very pattern in the Apostle Paul, who was never hesitant to ask people to pray for him. In Colossians chapter four, verse three, Paul — a seasoned apostle who had pioneered many churches — folds his arms and asks the young believers at Colossae, who were new in the faith, “Pray for me, that I may proclaim the word boldly.” This is something we can begin practicing today. Right after the service, hold the hand of a brother, even your own spouse, and say, “I need your prayers. Without your support I will not make it.” There is something powerful about acknowledging our weakness, or we end up like Peter, who insisted he would stand while everyone else fell.

Peter also tended to be a loner, and there is a saying: if you want to go fast, go alone; but if you want to go far, go with a group. In ministry too I have met fast and furious people who have no time for anyone, who ask no one to pray because they believe they can do anything by themselves. But gatherings like this matter. These days some prefer to stay in the comfort of their bedrooms, treating an online stream as if it were the whole of church. There is something about coming together under one roof, encouraging one another, praying for one another, standing with one another. Peter could not do it. It is striking that in Acts chapter one, verse fifteen, “Peter stood up among the believers” — alone again. But notice what changes in Acts chapter two, verse fourteen: “Then Peter stood up with the Eleven.” There is something about standing together, working together, asking for prayer — remembering what Jesus said in John fifteen, that apart from Him, and apart from the fellowship, we can accomplish nothing.

Second, Peter failed to handle the moments when Jesus was not around. Read through the Gospels: if Jesus was near, Peter would do anything. With Jesus and his small band facing the armed crowd, this outnumbered man was the one who drew his sword — because Jesus was there. It is like some of us on a Sunday morning: arrange the chairs? I'll do it. Serve the coffee? Just tell me. We will do anything, as long as we feel the Lord is near. But the real test comes from Monday through Saturday. It is interesting that the other Gospels do not name the man who cut off the ear — Matthew twenty-six, fifty-one, calls him “one of Jesus' companions”; Mark fourteen, forty-seven, “one of those standing near”; Luke twenty-two, forty-nine and fifty, “one of them.” Only John, who was close to Peter, tells us plainly in John eighteen, verse ten, that it was Peter. He was glad to step forward and do anything for Jesus — as long as Jesus was around.

Look again at our text. John eighteen, fifteen: Simon Peter and another disciple were following Jesus. That other disciple is John himself, who was known to the high priest and went in with Jesus into the courtyard. But verse sixteen says, underline it, “Peter had to wait outside at the door.” He was alone. The denial happened out there, before John came back to bring him in. Jesus was inside; the beloved disciple was inside; Peter was left outside, and he did not know how to handle that moment. Matthew twenty-six, fifty-eight, adds that he was sitting down there, waiting to see how it would all end — would Jesus walk out, or be condemned and sentenced to death? Our spirituality cannot be skin-deep; it has to be heart-deep. We can sing in the choir, take up the offering, volunteer for everything on a Sunday — but the real question is how we hold up when the church people are not around.

And yet we do not have to fail the way Peter did. In John fourteen, verse sixteen, Jesus says, “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever” — another of the same kind. Just as Jesus was with the disciples, the Holy Spirit would now be with them. So to you who are studying or working, this is good news: you are never truly alone in your workplace. The Holy Spirit makes Jesus present in your life twenty-four hours a day, so you need never feel as Peter felt — abandoned, with everyone gone inside and no one left beside him. One of the keys to standing firm in those moments is prayer. In Matthew twenty-six and Luke twenty-two, verses forty and forty-six, Jesus told the disciples, “Watch and pray,” because Peter was about to face an hour when he would be alone and would need grace already stored up. But the disciples slept. Fill your empty vessel with prayer, because there will be moments when you feel abandoned — when you walk out of the doctor's room with a report that shakes your life. Be ready for those moments. Pray.

Third, Peter failed to understand the nature of Jesus's mission. When Jesus was arrested, Peter reached for the sword — but God's wars are not fought with swords. This is another kingdom altogether, and Peter missed it. Many believers today still imagine it as an earthly kingdom, where blessing is measured by the car we drive or the house we live in. But it is a different kingdom. Peter thought Jesus would be an earthly king, with himself seated at the right hand, and that it could all be won by the sword. Jesus said, no — put your sword away.

What kind of kingdom is this? It is a kingdom where you live by dying — dying to yourself, your ambitions, your dreams. Where you receive by giving. To the world, a kingdom citizen looks like a fool, because the wisdom that comes from above is always taken for foolishness. In this kingdom, winning is measured by losing. When you have a conflict with a colleague, how do you win? You win by losing the earthly battle, for in losing it you win the spiritual one. Our enemy is not the boss at the workplace; our struggle is not against flesh and blood. Jesus said, love your enemies and pray for them — forgive them from your heart, even fast and pray for that hard taskmaster set over you. Let the prayer not be, “Lord, transfer him away,” but, “Lord, give me the courage and strength to stay here and serve under him.” Others will say you are losing; in truth you are winning.

In this kingdom, power is not measured by how many people serve you, but by how many people you serve. Giving is not measured by how much you gave, but by how much is left behind with you. The world applauds, “Look, he gave a whole lakh!” — but here, giving is measured by what remains in your hand. You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving. Peter missed the very nature of the kingdom of God. In John eighteen, verse thirty-six, Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world.” It does not originate here, and it does not run on this world's values and principles. It is another kingdom altogether.

So how did Peter bounce back? There is a clue in John chapter twenty-one, verse fourteen: “This was now the third time Jesus appeared to his disciples after he was raised from the dead.” Why does John make a point of saying it was the third time? Because there was an unresolved matter between Peter and Jesus. The first time they met, Peter somehow slipped past it; the subject was never addressed. The second time, again he avoided it. It was the elephant in the room. By the third appearance, the matter still hung in the air. And notice what Peter does in John twenty-one, verse seven: when the disciple whom Jesus loved said, “It is the Lord,” Peter, as soon as he heard it, threw himself into the water. When we dread a confrontation, this is exactly what we do — we busy ourselves with anything to avoid sitting down and facing it. Earlier, Jesus had told the disciples plainly that He would meet them in Galilee; yet Peter, even knowing the Lord would show up there, had gone back to his old fishing trade, because facing Jesus felt too embarrassing. He felt inadequate, unqualified, as if he no longer fit the profile. Some of us sit here the same way — sure that God could use anyone but us. We slip out before the service ends, or come in after it has begun, so that no one will ask us that question.

Then comes the turning point. John twenty-one, verse fifteen: “When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?’” Let's come to the point, Simon. I know what happened in your life — but I can begin all over again. This is why Jesus had said, “Go back to Galilee; I will meet you there.” The journey had begun in Galilee three years earlier, and they had traveled from there all the way to Jerusalem. Jesus was saying, Peter, are you willing to go back to Galilee and start this journey again — a journey where your fears and failures will be replaced by confidence and by the anointing of the Holy Spirit?

If you ask me what really happened in Peter, I see two qualities, and I pray we will all possess them. The first is that he had a sincere heart. He was not stubborn or manipulative. How do I know? Remember the very first time Jesus filled his nets in Luke chapter five — Peter fell down and said, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man.” He never sat there pretending nothing was wrong. And there is something very tender in Luke twenty-two, verse sixty-one. Only Luke records it: after the denial, “The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter.” And the next verse says, “He went outside and wept bitterly.” Look at the contrast in the same chapter, verse fifty-six: a servant girl had also looked closely at Peter and said, “You are one of them,” and he felt nothing — he simply said, “I am not.” But when the Lord turned and looked at him, he broke and wept. Why? I can think of only one reason. Cast your mind back to John chapter one, verse forty-two, the very first day, when Andrew brought him and Jesus looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You will be called Cephas” — that is, Peter. After the denial, that same gaze returned: I still want you, Peter; I have invested much in you. One look was enough to bring him back. And Jesus is here today, looking at each one of us. Don't hide behind anyone else. Let those eyes find you — the Lord who sees you inside and out, your failures and your fears. What is needed, like Peter, is an open confession and tears from a sincere heart.

The second quality is that Peter was willing to share his story. Think about it: how did Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John ever come to know that Peter denied Jesus three times, and that it happened in front of a servant girl? Matthew was not there. Luke was not there. Mark was not there. John was most likely inside when it happened. So how did they know? Picture that first gathering in the upper room, when each one took a turn to tell his story. John would have said, “From the cross, Jesus told me to take care of His mother, and Mary is in my home today.” Matthew would have said, “You all thought I had deserted, but I was praying.” And when it came to Peter's turn, he said, “Friends, do you know what I did? I denied our Lord three times.” “You? Our representative?” “Yes, it happened. Matthew, you must write it down. Mark, write it. John, don't leave out the details.” Otherwise the Gospel writers would never have dared to record it — by the time the Gospels were written, Peter was a bishop in the church, a powerful man. If Peter himself had not shared his story, we would never have known it. So do not hesitate to share your failures with others.

The God of new beginnings is here today, ready to start over at any point in your life. Let my imagination run for a moment to the day of Pentecost. Suppose there were a discussion in heaven about who should address the crowd. The first suggestion might be John — the most responsible, the one now caring for Mary. No, says another, give it to James. But the unanimous voice settles it: give it to Peter. Why Peter? Because the messenger himself preaches the message — the God of new beginnings. On the day of Pentecost I see Peter the rock truly rocking, not because he was the rock, but because he was following Jesus, who is the Rock. Don't ever miss that.

You may have failed God this past week — in the way you used your phone, in a relationship, in some secret thing you have nurtured. But God has brought you here today, for such a time as this. And only one thing is needed. Don't hide. Say openly, “That happened with me. That is my story. You preached about Peter, but it was really my story — I failed even after so much was invested in my life. I see myself in Peter.” If that is you, man or woman, this is your moment. I believe God will begin something new in your life today, and that you will be used by Him powerfully in the days to come.