There are few things more attractive than a campfire on a chilly night. Its warmth is comforting, its flickering light is mesmerizing, and the company of those sharing it is reassuring. But something tragic happened around the one described in John 18.
The narrative in the middle section of the chapter switches back and forth between two scenes, revealing their striking contrasts. Verses 12-14 and 19-27 follow Jesus from the arrest in Gethsemane through his initial hearing. Verses 15-18 and 25-27 focus on the drama of Peter’s denials.
Jesus was led away in shackles to stand trial before the Jewish authorities. But first, he was subjected to pretrial questioning by Annas, the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest. It’s unclear what the intended purpose was for this trial-before-the-trial, but what is clear is that tensions were already so sky high that nothing remotely resembling a fair hearing or lawful procedure could take place.
John leaves it to the other Gospel writers to document the cruelties and injustices the Lord suffered during his official trial before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin (e.g., Mark 14:55-65), but he reminds us that all of it took place within the context of Jesus having been prejudged. Without any due process, he’d already been sentenced to death by the high priest in an earlier private meeting of the religious leadership (John 11:47-53).
Still, throughout the sham interrogations, Jesus never attempted to hide, spin, or obfuscate. He took responsibility for and stood behind everything he’d said and done, making clear he’d conducted his ministry in the open for all to see and hear.
On the other hand, Peter did exactly the opposite. While Jesus was inside withstanding his interrogators by welcoming the light of scrutiny, out in the courtyard, Peter was avoiding his by choosing to hide in the darkness of denial.
This is puzzling because the text doesn’t seem to indicate that there was a need for him to have feared being identified as one of Jesus’ followers. He’d been escorted through the gate and onto the grounds by another disciple who, though unnamed, was known to the high priest and appears to have possessed the authority to do it. On top of that, the bystanders who confronted Peter don’t seem to have held the kind of positions that would represent any real threat and were more than likely just curious.
So, why was he insistent on denying his relationship with Jesus even after the Lord had warned him about it (John 13:38)? I don’t think we can know for sure, and even if we could, the answer would most certainly be multilayered. But it’s entirely possible that at least one of those layers had to do with the chill in the air and the allure of the campfire.
Some of us have been there. We know what it’s like to try to fit in around the world’s fire circle hiding our identity as Jesus-followers to avoid feeling embarrassed about our faith. And even if it plays out more subtly than Peter’s direct disavowals, the effect is the same.
But because we’ve been there, we can imagine a little of what Peter must have experienced as he warmed his hands and was suddenly aware that the rooster was crowing. The feelings of regret must have been overwhelming as he recalled the words of his Master’s prediction mingling with the sound of his denials on repeat in his mind. The juxtaposition of his failure unfolding on one end of that piece of real estate against what his Lord was enduring on the other must have been unbearable.
And although this part of his story serves as a warning to resist the temptation of the campfire, Peter’s faith journey doesn’t end here. I’m grateful for the beautiful account of his repentance and restoration that unfolds in the chapters ahead. And that encourages us to know we can find recovery from our failures through Christ’s forgiveness too.