Sermon

I Do Not Know the Man!

February 22, 2026 • Rev. Mindie Moore

Lent 1: "I Do Not Know the Man!"

Matthew 26: 69-74

It’s the first Sunday in Lent. We kicked off this church season with Ash Wednesday experiences (show pictures) this week—we had drive thru ashes and prayer and worship. And one of the things I realized last week as I was talking to a few of you is that for many of us here, observing Lent is a newer practice. It may not be something that we’re especially familiar with.

So before we get into our Scripture today, I want to just take a minute and lay out what Lent is and why it might matter to you in your faith practice. Lent is a 40 day period of time leading up to Easter, when we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. And it’s 40 days long because the number 40 is a very symbolic number throughout the Bible. It’s often used to represent a period of fasting or prayer or being tested in some spiritual way. We have an example of Jesus himself spending 40 days in the wilderness doing just this.

And there are many different ways that people practice Lent. The most obvious and I would even say sort of stereotypical ways that we hear about is giving up something indulgent. Maybe fasting from chocolate, or alcohol, or social media. And those are great things to give up. But I know for some of us, that idea of fasting like that can almost be a barrier to experiencing this season. We might automatically think that Lent isn’t for us or we can’t participate if we don’t do so in that particular way.

What I hope is that we would see Lent in a bit of a broader way. That no matter WHAT we do—if we give something up, if we add something in—that we would use this 40 days to connect with God in a more intentional way. Because that’s the deeper point to this whole season. It’s really a gift. We have this set period of time, where we get to cultivate something deeper in our faith. We get to grow spiritually. We get to focus on Jesus’ life and teaching and follow him in a different way.

So I love Lent. It’s kind of a reflective, maybe moody and sad season—I actually told someone the other day, “have a sad Lent!” and that made it weird. But I love it because of that intentionality and the space it gives us. My prayer for us as a community is that we would lean all the way into that space, and that by the time we get to Easter, we could look back on these 40 days and see that something has shifted in us spiritually and connected us to our God in a new way.

Let’s pray.

Our series for Lent this year is called “Behold: Words from the Suffering.” You could see in the bumper video different phrases that appear throughout what we call “The Passion” narrative. That word Passion comes from the Latin “passio” which means suffering and is used in the Biblical context to tell the story of Jesus’ final days on earth.

This moment in time was heavily documented by the Gospel writers. You can imagine that for them this was not only a defining time but it was a traumatic time. Jesus was their friend, their everyday companion. The one that they worshiped and followed and loved. His suffering wasn’t something that they merely observed, but it was something that they deeply felt. And so they recorded all of these events, to remember, but also to teach. To pass down to future Jesus-followers, to make sure that the power of the passion didn’t get lost.

What’s interesting about the different phrases that we’re going to look at together over the time of this series is that these are all things that are said ABOUT Jesus—not BY Jesus. There were lots of people involved, either as direct players or general observers, and Jesus was not exactly a neutral figure. You either loved him or you really DID NOT love him. And, as we are going to see today, even if you loved him, what he went through was so challenging and controversial, that it was difficult to know exactly what to say or how to navigate the whole thing.

Today we’re looking at a moment in Jesus’ disciple Peter’s life. And it’s a moment that shapes everything for him. It’s a moment that brings up a lot of regret and guilt, and one that I’m sure he would have wanted a do-over for if he could have had one.

This is Peter’s famous denial of Jesus. Not once. Not twice. Three times. In a matter of minutes, Peter separates himself from Jesus multiple times and claims, “I do not know the man!”

These words are jarring on their own, but they are especially troubling considering that the denial comes from Peter’s mouth. Because if you know anything about Peter and his history with Jesus...he was by most accounts, the most committed of them all. He was all in, every time! He was ready to defend Jesus’ honor at any moment, he could get kind of angry and aggressive about it. In the Gospel of John, we get a story about him cutting off the ear of a soldier in order to protect Jesus. He’s a bit of a wild card, but one thing about Peter is that he’s going to have Jesus’ back.

Even in this specific narrative, Peter is CONFIDENT that he would NEVER leave Jesus. Listen to what it says earlier in Matthew 26 (SLIDE):

³³Peter said to him, “Even if all fall away^[^g^] because of you, I will never fall away.”^[^h^] ³⁴Jesus said to him, “Truly I tell you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.” ³⁵Peter said to him, “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.”

He has so much certainty of how he’s going to show up when things get hard...and then it all comes crashing down.

I’ve thought about this moment in Peter’s life A LOT. Because at St. Luke’s, we read this passage, or one version of this passage, every single year on Good Friday. And it always stands out to me because it feels like we’re talking about a different person than the one who shows up throughout the rest of the Gospels, but it’s also clear that this is a moment of intense emotions, acute stress, it’s really a crisis for Peter. If you read the rest of Matthew 26, a lot happens in a very short amount of time. They share a Passover Meal and Jesus institutes what we now know as Communion. Judas betrays him. He’s arrested and put on trial. Word starts to spread that this Jesus guy has finally gotten caught and the walls start to close in.

And in the middle of all of this, we read that the disciples scatter, and we find Peter all alone, without the ones he can trust, probably panicking and trying to figure out how he’s going to make it to the other side of this moment.

That’s the headspace I can imagine that he’s in when this stranger comes up to him and makes the observation that he was with Jesus. I don’t know she was there to accuse or comfort or was simply looking for some info...but that statement slams up against something inside of Peter and his first response is to deny it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells her, and then he moves somewhere else, probably hoping to avoid any other questions.

Unfortunately for him, he can't quite get away from the talk—which isn’t surprising, this big news, people want to know what’s going on! And as this next little group begins to speculate, Peter’s denial gets less avoidant and more frustrated. He gets more specific and says, “I do not know the man.” I can imagine the anxiety is really starting to build here, he’s probably got that rushing sound in his ears, his heart is beating really fast, and if he can just get away from these nosy people...then maybe he can calm down and think.

But a final group finds him. And they just call him out. He’s clearly not from around there, they know he’s been with Jesus. And this pushing takes Peter past his breaking point, he curses, he’s angry and defensive, and he shouts back to them, “I do not know the man!”

Three times, he denies Jesus. Just like Jesus said. And immediately, after that third denial, he hears the rooster crow.

The thing about Peter in this moment, is that once he hears that sound, he’s immediately shaken out of whatever headspace he’s in and he realizes. He knows that he’s done something he deeply regrets. He’s not only denied Jesus, but he’s discounted his entire story. This thing that meant everything to him, he’s thrown it aside and pretended like it was nothing. In this one reactionary moment, he’s shown up in a way that’s completely contrary to who he wants to be, who he claims to be, who he HAS been.

We know he knows what a mistake he’s made, because this is how Matthew tells us he responds (SLIDE):

Then Peter remembered what Jesus had said: “Before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.” And he went out and wept bitterly. (Matthew 26:75)

This is the moment where Peter is confronted with the reality of all that has just happened. With the enormity of his actions being completely out of sync with his beliefs. You could call it hypocrisy, misalignment, a mistake, a stress response—however we categorize it, the truth remains that this is a moment of deep failure for Peter.

And I can imagine that guilt and shame are doing a pretty fierce game of tug of war inside Peter right now. And it’s a high stakes game. I know when I’ve been in these kinds of moments, shame can very easily win. And there’s an important difference between the two, something that’s worth us recognizing, because guilt can be actually very useful to us. Guilt tells us the truth when we have done something that is outside of who we want to be. It doesn’t feel good, it’s DEEPLY uncomfortable, but it acts like a flashlight, shining a beam on something that is real, so that we can acknowledge it and start to change.

But shame...shame tries to look like guilt, but it shows up and it just starts telling us stories. Destructive stories. Stories that say--”Oh, it’s not just that you DID something bad. You ARE bad. You didn’t JUST fail. You ARE a failure.” Shame plays a loud and persistent tape about our identity and our worth. And the worst part about shame, is that instead of leading to the possibility of transformation, it usually leads to burrowing into whatever the thing we need to heal or grow from is. Because shame encourages us to hide. It tells us that if anyone knew what we did, we would lose so much. We wouldn’t be loved. We would be all alone. We couldn’t come back from whatever this low point is.

When shame takes the driver’s seat, we miss out on that rare and holy combination of grace linked with accountability. Which is, if we’re just honest, one of the hardest things that Jesus lived and wants us to live. It is FAR easier to live at one extreme or the other—we're either all done with someone or we just let everything slide and hope it will magically resolve.

But (SLIDE) grace with accountability...that’s the way of Jesus. And if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of that, and really let yourself be honest and vulnerable and grow from it, you KNOW how powerful that can be. You know what the Holy Spirit can do in those moments.

I can remember really clearly when I had a moment like this. And when I tell you I don’t really want to tell you this story...even though this happened 25 years ago, when I was 14, I would love for this not to be one of those things that’s in my rearview. But I AM going to share this with you because it’s a time I experienced deep guilt and honest rebuke, and a time when I was given exceptional grace while being held accountable for my actions.

I was in high school, in one of my classes, talking with a group of friends before we got started for the day. And it was one of those conversations where the jokes were escalating and I really wanted to be included in this moment. So I jumped in and said something that was racist and harmful and absolutely not ok.

And it was one of those moments, where the minute it left my mouth, I knew. But I couldn’t take it back. The words were out there, and the damage was very real. There was immediate relational fallout, and then there was the conversation I got to have after class with my teacher.

And I have to tell you how grateful I am now that she did not let me off the hook. She calmly, but without softening what needed to be said, told me how disappointed she was that this had happened, that these words had come from me of all people. Not only was I a leader, but I was very outspoken about my Christian faith and she wondered if the words that I had said could be any sort of reflection of Jesus. She told me she knew this wasn’t who I was, but that I needed to make it right. I needed to not only apologize to the other students who were part of the conversation, but I needed to do better and never do something like this again. I needed to understand the power of words and to use my words to lift people up. She knew I could do that, and she expected that I would.

That teacher loved me so well in that moment, as much as it probably didn’t feel like it at the time. Because that was a moment that could have easily turned into something really nasty in my soul. I could have done what I did, and had that experience, and never learned a single thing from it. But because someone was willing to hold me accountable AND give me grace, it made me aware, it opened up some curiosity for me and it shone it blazing, bright light on things that I needed to be aware of in my own self.

That’s the power that these moments can have, if we let them. We’re going to talk a lot about forgiveness next week, so just know it’s coming, but I don’t want us to rush past this part of Peter’s story and our stories. Sometimes God does incredible work in us before we even experience the fullness of what it’s like to be forgiven. When we understand our own shortcomings and weaknesses, we also understand how much we need our God. We remember two incredibly important things (SLIDE) we can’t do it alone, and that even in our worst moments, that God isn’t going to LEAVE us alone.

I mentioned how shame can keep us silent and sort of isolate us and just do a whole number on our story. Which brings me to the last thing I want to share with you this morning. Have you thought about HOW we know this story about Peter?

One of the key details in the text is that he’s away from all of the other disciples. All the others who would eventually put their experiences down to share with the world, all the storytellers...they weren’t there. Peter could have easily kept this one to himself.

I don’t think he did. I think he must have told someone. And I think that his telling of this lowest moment in his life probably gave a lot of hope. It probably released him from whatever power this part of his story had over him and gave that power back where it belonged—to the love and grace and work of Jesus in his life. Because that’s main idea. This is part of it, but it’s not where his story ends up. This is Peter, who’s going to be the rock on which the Church is built. He’s so much more than a moment of regret.

(SLIDE) We are so much more than our moments of regret.

And if that’s hard for you to believe, I know a 25 minute sermon isn’t going to be the magic change for what’s probably pretty deeply rooted. But my prayer, if this is a hard one for you, is that you might hold whatever narrative you’re carrying around shame or failure in front of Jesus this Lenten season. See what 40 days of untangling some of that can do. See what work the Spirit can be up to in your life.

As the band get ready to come back up and lead us in our closing song, I want to lead us in a collective prayer of confession. The practice of confession helps us hold these pieces of ourselves and our stories to the light. It helps release us from whatever hold stuff has on us. And it reminds us that God’s grace is at work IN us, and that Jesus is near.

Will you speak these words out loud with me? (SLIDE) Prayer of Confession