In a courtyard that was lit by gentle flame cast shadows against its walls, there gathered a group of people around the fire, trying to keep warm together as they waited for the morning ahead.

Even the fire though couldn’t ease the tension that braced them tighter than the cold dark around them. Off to one side was a man who stood shivering in his binds, more from nervousness than from the cold. He was known as the true vine. He was about to die.

There was another layer of tension in the crowd since a rooster had just crowed as a stranger in the circle of friends had been speaking.

Everyone had stopped at this point and were waiting for someone to speak. But no-one had any words to say. No-one. Their eyes shifted gazes quickly as they tried not to make eye contact while still trying to see who would open their mouths. And the pause just lingered on and on as the fire just kept consuming slowly towards it’s inevitable demise.

Those who were looking at the man who had just spoken would have noticed that his eyes were locked firmly with the prisoners. The prisoner had an I’m-sorry-but-I-told-you-so kind of look that thinly veiled his loving disappointment. The other man’s face changed with the reality of being undone. He felt hollow. He felt ashamed. He felt a fraud. He felt fake.

The silence broke as the man shrieked and ran away from the light in tears. His shrieking could still be heard for quite some distance.

Someone uneasily stoked the fire with the handle of their spear : “I guess that proves that then doesn’t it…”—an uneasy chuckle Mexican waved around the group as the prisoner felt more isolated in this world than ever.

Peter ran for as long as he could, more in big circles than away from. He wanted to flee his humiliation, but was drawn to much to this man who was his friend to leave. Finally he stopped, when he thought his heart would burst more from the pain than exhaustion, his gut filled in with grief as he bent over weeping.

He wanted to calm down, he wanted for this strange night to end, for it to be a dream…and his breathing slowed down as his current wave of grief receded…

“I’m a failure” he thought and repeated over and over to himself. “I’m useless, I have nothing in this world to live for. I’m a terrible friend…”

Peter remembered the room where the sunset was disappearing through the windows into the night, there was a table decked out in ritualistic simplicity. Passover night. This was meant to be a celebration — a time when everyone in the country would remember God’s faithfulness to his people when he delivered them out of Egypt. For something like 1500 years they’d been celebrating this in honour of that great event. A night when all the first born of the houses that were not protected by faith in God, where all these children would die. And as a result the Israelites were asked to leave quickly.

And they went off to the promised land, a new era, a new identity, a God-fearing, God-loving people with a mutual agreement with their God, to be a people who would be known as his very own. A high calling. That’s what this celebration was about…

But for some reason, the meaning of their night had changed dramatically. They weren’t going to pick up on the symbolism of all this until much later. But here’s how it looked in the room.

There was a break in the ritual and Jesus was reclining back. Smiling a little, trying to make the most of this last respite before his impending suffering. He had worked around the room and made contact with everyone : first by washing their feet—a staggering act that some of them protested. Peter had protested the loudest : “what the—we’ve got servants to do that…teacher this is ridiculous. Why are you lowering yourself to the status of a servant? Stop this nonsense and assume your place at the head of the table.

“I should be washing your feet…”

Jesus, lowering himself to be a servant…and with the benefit of hindsight, Jesus the son of God, Jesus, who was God, lowered himself to serve us : the son of God came to serve not be served…God our creator…serving…touching our unclean skin : touching where we have walked through the dirt and defecates of everyday life. Jesus touching that and cleaning it for us. Washing us, clean, knowing we will be dirty again…washing the feet of even Judas Iscariot who betrayed him.

Peter’s thoughts flicked back to the fireside.

“I never knew the man…” was his reply in as restrained a manner as he could muster. Trying to be warmed by the fire, peter had been silent in how he joined the group. He didn’t want to leave his master. He was loyal to the bitter end, well, he was loyal to the point it wouldn’t harm himself.

“I’m connected to this, he had thought. I am dedicated to this man Jesus. I believe he is the Messiah, the son of the living God.” He echoed his historic words back to himself.

“I am…,” he floundered because someone had just asked him if he had known him…they might really hurt him if he acknowledge it. They’ve got spears and swords. And on top of that, he was a little bit reluctant to provide any opportunity to remind them of the fact that he had just assaulted one of them a few hours ago at the garden where Jesus had been praying : that kind of thing does get you beaten up.

Peter had been asked if he knew Jesus. He squarely denied it — as Jesus watched for this first time.

The conflict inside him. Jesus the true vine, Jesus the authentic vine. And God was the gardener who would prune the sick branches off. And Jesus had said that Peter was one of the branches…was he ok or was he withering and dying?

Did this qualify? Does it qualify that now Peter had denied Jesus once, that he was unfruitful? Did this mean that God would cut him off? He wanted to know, he wanted to know. The conflict inside him. A raging battle between that which would want him to just walk away from it all, this fiasco, this tragedy and leave it behind as a bad experience, a battle between all of that and his love for this man Jesus that was sincerely his unwavering commitment (except with the denial of course).

Peter had after all just earlier that night said that he would lay down his life for Jesus. He was that dedicated. He truly was. He really meant it.

And Jesus called his bluff.

“Peter, let me assure you, your words of dedication do not equal actions of dedication : not by a long shot. You are going to deny that you know be before the morning comes : not once, mate, not even a couple of times. But three times Peter, three times you will disown me. On the third time, the rooster will crow.”

Peter was quite put out by that. He was part of the vine, he was one of the branches. His faith was showing fruit especially with that dedication and commitment. He was saying the right stuff—he was even doing the right stuff. What more could he do?

The first time he was asked if he knew Jesus that night, was the first time he realised. He was full of it. All talk. Even assaulting that guy in the garden to protect Jesus was just a display of macho.

Peter flicked back again to the supper in the room.

Jesus was reclining in the chair and took some bread and bit into it.

“You know something,” he asked them, and they all knew that whenever he asked this question it meant that they didn’t.

“I’m the vine. There’s lots of vines out there, but I’m the only one that really matters. You can look around you till you’re blue in the face, but you won’t get more authentic than this. And then there’s God who looks after the vine. He looks for grapes, healthy bunches of grapes to be growing on these branches. And whichever branch doesn’t produce grapes, he chops it off and throws it away. He doesn’t want it sucking resources from the other branches.

He took another bite from his bread. “and you guys, see, you are the branches.” He said like a challenge.

“It’s not like there’s some separation between us. You are produced from me, I am the source of your life. God’s only interested in one grape variety, and that’s the stuff that comes from me and from you. You need to stay connected to my love, not just through words, but everything you do must stem from my love.

“I am the source of your life. What you need to do is live in my love. Live inside my love.”

The air you breathe is my love. The air you exhale is my love.

As God the father has loved me, in the same way I have shown love to you, unconditionally, without reserve, painfully, and happily. Love is an action, not an emotion.

Surely God has modelled this for us. Surely I have modelled this for you. Live in my love.”

Peter’s mind flicked back to the fireside.

“look leave me alone, I don’t know him!” Peter turned inside out. The person who had asked him a second time recoiled quizzically from the violence of the response. “ok, ok, easy tiger, I was just asking…”and seeped sceptically into the shadowy light.

Peter, didn’t look at Jesus this time, but truly, he could feel the look coming back : it wasn’t a stare, but it had changed from the told-you-so type look to, I-wish-he-wouldn’t-but-he-will look. Jesus wasn’t angry because he knew what was coming. But it was one thing to know what would happen and another to experience it. Jesus was so alone and each time Peter spoke, it reinforced the walls of emptiness surrounding him.

Peter didn’t look up. He knew he should. Did he love Jesus then? Did he love Jesus at that time? As he sat now in the alley with his head in his hands he wondered. Has he been a branch that has been cut off? He was convinced that he didn’t produce any grapes that would be worth eating.

The words of Jesus came back to him as he remembered his little talk while he reclined on the couch eating bread.

“I’m the vine, you are the branches. Simple as that. If you shrivel up and die, God the Father will throw you away. Live in my love. Now what does that mean?

“let me tell you. Keep my commandments and you’ll experience joy. Is that complicated?”

He took another bite and chewed on it to give them a chance to let it sink in.

“I’m going to repeat it again. Love one another, and this is shown by obeying my commands. No greater love is there in this world than the type of love that will give up one’s life for another. Dying so someone else can live? That’s love. I don’t wish it for you but if it’s going to look anything like my expression of love for you, then you’re your future isn’t that bright.”

Peter thought about this. If I love Jesus, then I will obey him. If I love him, I will lay down my life for him. I’ve said these things out loud.

So he had this very difficult conflict inside. On one hand he had said that he would lay his life down for Jesus. But when asked if he even knew him, that was the clincher : he couldn’t admit it.

It’s the same way that we often make these promises to God : yes, I’ll die for you (hoping it won’t happen, or that it’s unlikely to happen). “Lord, I’ll stand in front of my workmates and schoolmates and dare to say I love you.” Now there’s the rub. Which do you think actually shows more about your feelings for God? “Lord you are my life, my all, every breath I take is worship for you…” “Man, I can’t stand that person over there, they’re so annoying…” which one shows more about your love for God? No really?

You can’t help but feel sorry for him as he sat there after the rooster crowed. He would’ve looked pitiful.

His world would have come crushing down around him at that point as he was exposed. And given the whole vine analogue I’m sure he thought he would be cut off.

And the temptation is there for us too. We like to know if we’re in or out. We like to know if we are in God’s favour or out of it. We need to know if we are measuring up to his expectations of us.

And when we have such a huge statement like that : abide in his love : what are we supposed to believe? Who does that? It seems so absolute. Lets get into our groups and talk through that.

Abide in his love. What does that look like in day to day living?

Abide in his love. It’s difficult isn’t it. When we come across the extremes of our faith. This seems so absolute and hopeless, perhaps, but there are people out there who get it right. In fact, most of us probably get it right more than we think.

It’s easy for us to focus on the negatives. Jesus could have done that while he was saying this stuff. Remember who he was talking to.

Peter who denied he even knew Jesus three times while he watched.

Thomas, who could not believe until he touched the wounds.

And earlier even Judas Iscariot, who actually turned his friend over to the authorities : the betrayer.

A group of fishermen who would choose to go back to how they used to live within two days of the crucifixion.

Men who just didn’t seem to get it. People like you and me. And he said this to them. “I call you my friends.” He entrusted them with his mission.

This strange and peculiar lot, he entrusted with the mission of bringing the good news to the world. Is it possible that this happened because the world will see the love of Jesus in transformed normal people more than it will the big flashy miracle workers and fancy style preachers?

The normal people, you and me, sin and all. You see we’re stuck in process. He washed the feet of those he knew would distance themselves from him.

Their sin and potential for rejection of his truth were put to one side as he saw the abilities and strengths that they had and he entrusted them with sharing his love. His holy, perfect, unexplainable but devastatingly piercing love. That he lavishes upon us : yes, warts and all.

We read these passages often without reflecting on their context. That they were spoken to people Jesus knew would let him down. Now doesn’t that add depth? Doesn’t that add hope for us?

These words are spoken freshly to us tonight, with the knowledge that we won’t get it right out there, but more importantly the knowledge that we will get some of it right, some of the time, which is more than if we didn’t hear these words at all.

Let’s listen to the words of this song by Johnny Cash as we reflect on this idea of abiding in Jesus’ love.