My name is Simon, son of John.  However, most of you know me by another name: the Apostle Peter.

And yes, it’s true!  I met the risen Lord Jesus!  Of course, I actually saw him multiple times.  The Gospel writers described many of the accounts, and Paul provided a partial list of Jesus’ appearances in 1 Corinthians 15.  I was blessed to be present at most of those occurrences.

But today I am finally going to share the details of Easter afternoon when Jesus appeared just to me.  Both Luke and Paul mention it, (Lk. 24:34, 1 Cor. 15:5), but never before have the specifics been passed along.  The details weren’t shared because they weren’t necessary to establish that Jesus truly was alive and seen by many.  But primarily they weren’t shared because they were intensely personal to me.

Let me begin by providing some background.

Some have called me impetuous, and I can’t deny it.  I’ve been known to blurt things out without always thinking things through.  Sometimes this leads to good comments on my part; sometimes not so good.

A positive example would be when Jesus asked who we, the disciples, thought he was and I replied, “You are the Messiah, the Son of God” (Matthew 16:16).  Jesus said this was revealed to me by the Heavenly Father.  A negative example was recorded just a few verses later when I tried to tell Jesus that he would never … must never … be killed by his enemies.  Jesus indicated that these words were coming from Satan.  Not one of my better moments.

My comments are scattered throughout the Gospels; more by far than any other disciple.  Some of them I’m proud to claim; others I wish I could take back.  Always though I tended to make things interesting.  Sometimes my words actually led Jesus to share wonderful stories and truths that the Church will always treasure.

My impetuosity also resulted in landing me in some rather interesting predicaments.  Perhaps the most well-known was the time I climbed out of a boat in the middle of the storm-ravaged Galilean Sea and actually walked on top of the waves toward Jesus!  Unfortunately, that also happened to be the time I began to sink just moments later as doubts crept in.  Thankfully, Jesus intervened.

Jesus.  He always said the right thing; always did the right thing; always dealt with me (and with everyone!) in love.  He was so wise.  So strong.  So exceptional.

My love for him was anything but an impetuous emotion.  It was, and is, a deep-seated and abiding devotion.  He was the most remarkable individual I ever met.  But then, he was the Son of God!

Which is why the events leading up to his death troubled me so very much.  Or more specifically, my words and actions.  I bungled everything. 

When the Lord began washing our feet before the Passover Meal, I told him he would never wash my feet.  When he replied, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me,” I overcompensated and asked him to wash my hands and head as well.  Jesus made it clear that wasn’t necessary. (John 13:8-10).

Later, as Jesus was warning us that we, his own disciples, would abandon him that evening, I informed him I never would.  That’s when Jesus told me I would not only abandon him, but I would disown him three times before the rooster crowed twice.  And I insisted emphatically, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you” (Mark 14:29-31).  Yeah, we all know how that unfolded.  All four Gospels recorded my stupendous failure to back up my boast.

It wasn’t long after my rash and foolish words that Jesus asked James, John and myself to watch with him as he poured out his heart to his Heavenly Father in the Garden.  And we failed him – three times!  I failed him three times!

I actually tried to keep my word and fight for Jesus when the mob came to arrest him.  I was fully ready to lay down my life for my Lord, even swinging my sword at an overly aggressive individual and slicing off his ear.  But Jesus scolded me and ordered me to sheath my weapon.  Then he actually healed the wound!  I didn’t understand, and clearly I had disappointed Jesus yet again.

Later that evening in my fear, I denied him … exactly as he predicted I would.  And at that moment Jesus turned and looked at me, (Luke 22:61), and I remembered.  I’ll never forget my Lord’s expression.  It was a look of love, but also of profound sadness.  The shame and self-loathing overwhelmed me, and I ran outside and cried harder than I’ve ever cried in my entire life.

I share all of this to provide insight into my frame of mind at that time.  My grief at the death of Jesus was profound.  My Teacher, my Lord, and my best Friend had been tortured and crucified.  I couldn’t believe it had happened!  And it had happened so suddenly, and it seemed to make no sense!  All of this was a factor in my deep sorrow.  But it was compounded by my personal failures.  How could I have failed my Jesus so significantly?

I couldn’t shake my melancholy the entire weekend.

Then came the day I’ll never forget.  I, the rest of Jesus’ apostles and a number of his closest followers were closeted in a secret place.  We were certain that since Jesus was dead, his enemies would come after us as well. 

Early Sunday morning we were awoken by banging on the door.  As we staggered to our feet, those of us who had swords or weapons armed ourselves … convinced our hiding place had been found and determined not to be taken as meekly as Jesus had seemed to be.

But it wasn’t soldiers at the door; it was a group of excited women!  Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, Joanna, Salome and others we knew well.  They were all speaking at the same time, making their message largely incoherent.  We finally asked Mary Magdalene to speak for them all. 

She told us the most preposterous thing.  (At least, it seemed preposterous at the moment!)  She said they had gone to Jesus’ tomb to anoint his body with burial spices.  On the way, they wondered how they would gain access, since the stone covering the opening to the tomb was large.  But when they arrived, the stone was rolled aside.  They were horrified, and wondered what they might find inside. 

Yet when they arrived at the entrance, they received another shock altogether!  Two angels were there, and they informed the women that Jesus was risen to life.  Then the angels instructed the women to tell us that Jesus was alive, just as he had promised.

To be frank, we did not believe the women; their words seemed like nonsense.  (Luke 24:11).  How could it be true?

But we did not doubt that some nasty human shenanigans might be at play.  Jesus had many powerful enemies who detested his teachings, his miracles, and especially his claims.  Or perhaps the women had gone to the wrong tomb?  John and I set off at a run to investigate.  But the women were right; Jesus body was no longer there!  Only the linens that had been wrapped around his body remained.  However, we certainly didn’t encounter any angels. 

John seemed to believe Jesus was really alive.  (John 20:8).  I, on the other hand, walked away from the empty tomb wondering what in the world had happened.  We reported what we had discovered to the rest of the disciples.  Everyone was perplexed.

We exhausted ourselves discussing the possibilities, and the ramifications of those possibilities.  The emotions in that confined space were raw.  Finally, I had to escape the tension.  I needed to be by myself; needed to reflect – needed to think … even if it meant taking the risk of being recognized.

The brothers understood and sent me off with a prayer and blessing.  I cautiously made my way to a special place.  A sacred place.  The Garden of Gethsemane.  It was here, in this peaceful park at the foot of the Mount of Olives, that Jesus often taught us and often prayed.

How awful that this was the place the traitor, Judas, brought the mob to arrest Jesus.  The wonderful memories of quiet times here with Jesus were trampled under by the sinister events of the Passover evening.  The previous joyful interactions were hacked to sorrowful and painful pieces by evil men; the former happiness forever hijacked by wickedness!

I meandered through the olive trees, memories flooding over me.  Eventually I found myself sitting at the very place where Jesus had poured out his heart to his Heavenly Father.  The place where he begged me to watch with him, and instead I watched the back of my eyelids while I slept.  I had failed Jesus … drastically, repeatedly, inexcusably.  The shame of it overwhelmed me; my freely flowing tears transitioned to racking sobs of grief – my downturned head held in my trembling hands.

Suddenly a body settled next to me and an arm was draped over my shuddering shoulders.  I hadn’t heard anyone approaching, yet here they were.

“Leave me alone!” I groaned.  “Can’t you see I need to be alone?”

“How very like you, Peter, to say the wrong thing,” the voice said.  Then, “No, you don’t need to be alone.  You need to be with me.”  The arm over my shoulder drew me closer.

I gasped.  I recognized that voice! That timbre! That gentleness and love! 

But it couldn’t be!  It was impossible!  I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.  Couldn’t bear the possibility of being wrong.  That’s when he placed his other hand on my knee.  His nail-pierced hand.

It was him!  It was Jesus!  It was truly Jesus, and he was really alive!  I swung my head toward him, still scarcely able to believe it was him.  That’s when he laughed.  The Lord laughed at me!  Not in meanness, but in joyful love. 

I threw my arms around him, the tears still streaming down my face.  But now they were tears of sublime joy.  Jesus warmly hugged me back.  Then he gently pushed me away so he could make eye contact.

“Why didn’t you believe the women, Peter?”

“Because it was impossible!”

Jesus smiled at me, his eyes twinkling.  “Oh really?  Here I am, Peter.  It seems the impossible is possible after all.  Did I not tell you that with God all things are possible?”

What could I say?

“Why didn’t you believe me?  I told you numerous times what would happen … what had to happen.  I explained that I would have to die, but that I would rise again.  You even tried to talk me out of it.  Remember?”  I looked away and nodded.  “Why didn’t you believe me?”

I was silent, but Jesus waited.  Finally, I replied in exasperation, “Because I didn’t want it to happen!  Because I wanted it to be nonsense!”  Did I really just say that to Jesus?  (Have I mentioned that I’m sometimes impetuous?)  I looked back to Jesus in alarm.

But Jesus just smiled again.  “Have I ever spoken nonsense, Peter?”

“No, but clearly I sometimes have an issue with that.”

Jesus chuckled affectionately, then grew serious again.  “I have another question for you, Simon.  Why were you crying?

I didn’t really want to answer this question either, but I had to.  Finally I replied quietly,  “Because I failed you, Lord.  I fell asleep on you.  I abandoned you.  I denied you.  Because my spirit was willing, but my flesh was weak.”  My voice broke with sorrow.  “Because what you warned me about was true, and what I boasted about was not.”

“It was all part of the Father’s plan, Peter.  People learn, not just from the good examples, but also from poor ones.  Sometimes they learn better from the poor ones.  Many of my followers will learn from your good examples … and from your not so good ones.  So take heart.  It was all for a reason.”

“I’d prefer if people didn’t hear about my poor examples.”

“I know.  But they must, and they will.”  Jesus smiled again.

“One more thing.  It’s an important one.  Take it to heart, and pass it along.  A person is not defined by what they have done, but by what I have done for them and in them.”

Then Jesus pulled me into another embrace.  As I leaned into him, he said, “I am alive, Peter.  All I came to accomplish is accomplished.  Tell the world.”

“I will, Lord.  I will!”  More tears.

“I know you will, Peter.  And you will do it well.  But first, be sure to apologize to the women for not believing them.”  How like the Lord – never failing to needle me!

Then he was gone.  But he wasn’t gone.  He would never ever be gone again, for he was alive!

So there they are, the unknown details of Jesus’ appearance to me.  I’m glad I shared them, even though it was yet another situation where I responded in a less than stellar manner. 

But this is not about me.  It’s about Jesus, my Lord and yours.  My Savior and yours.  And it shows his incredible love for me and for you.  As he forgave me, so he forgives you.  As he treated me, so he deals with you. Always!

In conclusion, I will state the obvious: Jesus is alive!  And as I wrote in my first book, so I write  again:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!  In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade.  This inheritance is kept in heaven for you! (1 Peter 1:3-4).