A servant girl squinted at him through the haze. “You were with him, weren’t you? The Nazarene?”
Peter’s gut twisted. Torchlight danced in her eyes, accusing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, turning away. His voice sounded foreign—thin, brittle. The fire crackled, indifferent.
Another voice piped up, a man this time, peering closer. “No, you’re one of them—I saw you with him!” Peter’s hands clenched, the heat of the flames no match for the chill creeping up his spine. “I don’t know the man!” he barked, louder now, desperate to shake the stares.
The crowd thickened, whispers swirling. A third stepped forward, bolder, pointing. “You’re a Galilean—your accent gives you away. You’re his disciple!” Peter’s chest heaved, panic clawing at him. “I swear by God, I don’t know him!” The words tore out, wild and jagged, just as a rooster crowed—sharp, shattering, slicing through the night.
He froze. Jesus’ words crashed back: “Before the rooster crows, you’ll deny me three times.” Across the courtyard, through the haze, Jesus turned. Their eyes met—mercy in his, yes, but pain too, deep and piercing. Peter’s knees buckled. He bolted, stumbling into the dark, shame choking him like a noose. Tears burned as he ran, the rooster’s cry echoing, relentless. Three times he’d sworn loyalty. Three times he’d lied.
Days blurred into a fog of guilt. The cross had come—brutal, final—and Peter had watched from the shadows, too broken to draw near. Then the tomb emptied, whispers of resurrection stirring the air. Peter couldn’t face it, couldn’t reconcile the man he’d betrayed with the one who’d risen. His faith lay in ashes, courage long spent.
Weeks later, the Sea of Galilee shimmered under a gray dawn. Peter stood at the water’s edge, nets in hand, the familiar heft a frail anchor. “I’m going fishing,” he’d told the others—James, John, Thomas, a handful more. They’d nodded, hollow-eyed, and followed. The boat rocked beneath them through the night, but the nets came up empty, mirroring the ache in Peter’s chest. He’d failed at this too.
As the sun breached the horizon, a figure stood on the shore, fire flickering beside him. “Children, have you caught anything?” the voice called, steady, warm. Peter squinted, exhaustion dulling him. “Nothing,” John shouted back.
“Cast the net on the right side,” the man said. Peter shrugged—why not?—and they obeyed. The net plunged, then strained, alive with fish, so many it nearly tore. John’s eyes widened. “It’s the Lord!” he gasped.
Peter’s heart lurched. He grabbed his cloak, leapt overboard, and swam, the cold biting as he thrashed toward shore. Jesus stood there, bread baking over the coals, fish sizzling—ordinary, yet radiant. Peter hauled himself onto the pebbles, dripping, trembling, the others trailing in the boat behind.
They ate in silence, the fire’s warmth a faint comfort. Peter chewed slowly, avoiding Jesus’ gaze, the weight of that courtyard night pressing down. Three denials. Three lies. He’d shattered under questioning, a rock crumbled to dust.
Jesus broke the quiet, voice gentle but firm. “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He gestured to the fish, the boat, the life Peter knew. The question cut deep, exposing the wound. Peter swallowed, eyes on the sand. “Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”
“Feed my lambs,” Jesus said.
A pause, then again: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” The repetition stung, peeling back the layers of Peter’s failure. His voice cracked. “Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”
“Tend my sheep.”
A third time, softer now: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter’s chest tightened, tears brimming. Three times—mirroring his betrayal. Did Jesus doubt him still? “Lord, you know everything,” he rasped, broken. “You know I love you.”
Jesus smiled, tender, unwavering. “Feed my sheep.” He rose, beckoning Peter to walk with him along the shore. “When you were young, you went where you pleased. When you’re old, another will lead you where you don’t want to go.” A shadow crossed his words—death, sacrifice—but light too. “Follow me.”
Peter stood, the fire of shame doused by grace. Three denials, three questions, three charges. The weight lifted, replaced by a quiet flame—hope rekindled. He glanced at the waves, the boat, the dawn breaking wide. Jesus knew his failure, yet called him still. Love had erased the night.
Song 7- 3 Times Denied
(Verse 1)
Three times I swore, three times I lied,
Under the torchlight, afraid to confide.
The fire was burning, the night was so cold,
My faith turned to embers, my courage grew old.
(Pre-Chorus)
A rooster’s cry, a shattering sound,
The weight of my failure pressed me to the ground.
Eyes full of mercy, yet pierced me with pain,
I ran from the truth, but the shame still remains.
(Chorus)
Denied, lied, three times I fell,
Lost in the dark as the morning bell.
But grace still calls through the breaking waves,
Do you love Me? Then walk in My ways.
(Verse 2)
A sword in my hand, but fear in my soul,
I swore my devotion, yet I lost control.
When danger was near, I stood like a rock,
But under the question, I shattered, I dropped.
(Pre-Chorus)
A rooster’s cry, a shattering sound,
The weight of my failure pressed me to the ground.
Eyes full of mercy, yet pierced me with pain,
I ran from the truth, but the shame still remains.
(Chorus)
Denied, lied, three times I fell,
Lost in the dark as the morning bell.
But grace still calls through the breaking waves,
Do you love Me? Then walk in My ways.
(Bridge)
Three times He asked me, three times He spoke,
Restoring the fire, rekindling hope.
"Feed My sheep, walk in the light,"
Love has erased my long, bitter night.
(Chorus)
Denied, lied, three times I fell,
Lost in the dark as the morning bell.
But grace still calls through the breaking waves,
Do you love Me? Then walk in My ways.
(Outro)
No longer bound by my greatest regret,
His mercy is greater, I won’t forget.
Though I once faltered, I now arise,
For love has restored me, and opened my eyes.
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