New has its own charm.  A whole process is wrapped up in the word new. New things come with demands—of time, money, attention, and expectation.  New things are beautifully packaged, or in the case of a house, perhaps spruced up a bit so that it at least feels new.

There are two Greek words for new.  Neosrefers to something recent or new in time, but it means a new version of something that has existed before—like a new pencil of which many have already been made.

Kainos, on the other hand, means a new kind, totally different in nature from anything that has existed before.  This is the word Paul uses in 2 Corinthians 5:17:

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old things have passed away—behold, they have become new.” [My emphasis]

Even the word creation already implies something very special—something from nothing—a new thing that no one has known.  That is the kind of new we are as born-again Christians—new, remade, and completely unique.

This newness is so clear in the life of Peter.  He is one of the inner circle of Jesus’ Twelve.  He is with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration and experiences the heavenly, supernatural appearance of faith heroes from the past. (Matthew 17:1–13; Mark 9:2–10; and Luke 9:28–36)  He experiences revelatory knowledge at the “gates of hell” in Caesarea Philippi, which spills from his lips when he identifies Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God. (Matthew 16:13–20)

Peter is close to Jesus—close enough to hear and to listen.  Jesus warns His disciples about the difficult days in Jerusalem.  He shares increasingly detailed accounts of His arrest by the religious leaders, the Cross, the confusion and devastation, but also the Resurrection and a future meeting in Galilee.  He quotes Zechariah (13:7) to communicate to them that they will scatter when the “shepherd is struck”.

None of these warnings really “help” the disciples to respond any “better” to the overwhelming and frightening events that begin with Jesus’ arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Peter, however, is very brave.  Though he initially flees, we find him in the courtyard of the High Priest’s house—a place that exposes him as a follower of the Man being interrogated by the highest of Jewish leaders.

It is here, in the heart of the furious evil and hatred aimed at condemning Jesus, that Peter denies knowing Him.  After the first confrontation, one would think he would flee—but he stays.  He retreats to the porch, where someone else confronts him.  He swears he does not know Jesus.

Twice?  Shouldn’t Peter have realized that he was “in danger,” that he was too weak to answer the servants’ questions?  Yet his heart keeps him close.  He simply cannot bring himself to leave.  His deep love for Jesus, his friend who is in great trouble, holds him there.

The third confrontation is the final blow.  Peter must have said something because he is recognized by his accent.  No Galilean was allowed to pronounce the blessing in a synagogue, because their accent was so offensive to Judean ears.

With curses and an oath, he denies his association with Jesus.

The Bible tells the truth plainly and honestly.  No scandals are hidden.  This is a devastating denial—and yet it is written down without excuse or softening.

Matthew closely follows Mark’s account. Mark even contains more detail (Mark 14:66–72).

Mark is known for his source—Peter himself.

That is remarkable—the story of Peter’s denial, told by Peter himself.

Rather than suppressing these events, Peter made them a necessary part of the Gospel.  His testimony is that Jesus forgives.  He forgave Peter, and He did it with one look of love—so perfect, and so full of redemptive power—that Peter grew into a greatness his former overconfidence could never have imagined.

And then the rooster crowed.

The rooster’s crow was not the voice of a bird.  The house of the High Priest was in the center of Jerusalem.  A regulation in Jewish law made it illegal to keep chickens in the Holy City due to the risk of contamination.
The changing of the Roman guard at 3am was called the rooster crow.  At that hour, a trumpet was blown in the Fortress of Antonia.  The Latin word for this trumpet call was gallicinium, which means “rooster crow.”

A trumpet is a symbol of God’s voice. Jesus looks—and Peter “hears.”

The details of the story fade.

Love gave Peter the courage to be where the other disciples would not go. He went out into the night to weep, but the look of love from Jesus’ eyes kept him safe. It brought him back to his brothers.

It is love that covers a multitude of sins.

Peter writes this himself (1 Peter 4:8).

And, as we know, this is not the end of the story.  The disciples’ encounter with the risen Christ is recorded in all the Gospels.  John gives us more insight.  Jesus meets them in Galilee, as He had promised.

John writes of the miraculous conversation during the beach breakfast between Jesus and Peter (John 21).  Peter recognizes Jesus from afar.  He jumps out of the boat to run to Him.  What a glorious reunion!

Just imagine the creative power in the inner being of a person when he sees the man he knew—alive from the dead—and clearly the God he believed Him to be.

All doubt is driven out by the reality of Jesus standing there with them.

It is the risen Christ in Peter that fully equips him with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.  Peter speaks thousands into the Kingdom.
He “walks” in the footsteps of “his” Jesus when he raises the crippled man at the Temple.

Peter is new, like nothing that has ever existed.

Out of a dark night of betrayal, the creative power of God’s spiritual rebirth is undeniable.

This is the power of a new creation in Christ.

This is us.