In the Courtyard

Peter too was there in the high priest’s courtyard that late night
when fearful angels high above me hovered around the Father’s throne
when smirking legions pushed and shoved in early celebration
when impulsively he sat down with guards around the fire
to keep his eye on Jesus—

He too was there
he heard and saw vile, scheming, evil men
disguised as priests, elders, and teachers of the law
abuse the God they never knew
for they had not followed him
had not heard his Sermon on the Mount bless
the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart
which they were not and never aimed to be
which Peter was not but always longed to be.

They had not followed him
hence they did not know this Son of God
or had they never wanted to
had they not seen the lame man dance in ecstasy
had they not seen the glory in the eyes of him born blind
had they not seen the new skin’s beauty glow on a former leper’s arm
had they not seen the widow’s spirit leap when she got back her son
and if they had, would they have called him Christ, the Son of God?

Peter knows, and so do I.

Yet Peter denies it with an oath; have I too
when it was safer or more convenient to pretend?
The angels cry, while devils dance.

We hear this Holy One condemned to die for being who he was
we see him mocked and struck, we see him turn his face
the filthy spit of spiteful men mingling with his blood
he turns his face and he looks straight at Peter

and at me
at each of us who’ve betrayed whom we’ve professed
and in that look was not his judgment but his love
the love that breaks the sinner’s heart.

Peter went out into the darkness and wept bitterly.
As I weep too.

                                                                -Talking with God