What have you learned from Peter’s journey of faith? | @sanctifiedart

God of Love, there is something about true love—deep love—that changes us. So as I move through the hustle and bustle of this busy world, center me once again in unconditional love. Remind me what unconditional love has looked and felt like in my life. Fill my cup with those sacred memories so that I might pour unconditional love into the people I meet. With a heart overflowing, I pray. Amen.

—prayer by Rev. Sarah A. Speed | @sanctifiedart

Listen to a song close to your heart as you draw, color, or collage on a page. Add the lyric that most resonates with you. | @sanctifiedart

There is neither shaming nor blaming, nor does Jesus forgive Peter. Instead, Jesus knows that what he will ask Peter to do is something Peter could not fathom before. Only now, in this renewal of relationship with the resurrected Jesus is Peter’s trust affirmed and Jesus’ trust in Peter confirmed.

—Rev. Dr. Karoline Lewis (@karoline.lewis), from her commentary on John 21:1-19 | @sanctifiedart

Here’s my heart. Here are the things I care about so deeply. And you—someone who makes mistakes, doesn’t follow directions, and sometimes even betrays me—you are so loved and trusted enough to keep this good work going even after I’m gone.

This is a message to all of us. It doesn’t matter how poorly you may think of yourself or how others may view you. To Christ, you are beautifully and fearfully made. And Christ believes in you in spite of it all.

—from the artist's statement for "Lift Off" by Rev. Nicolette Peñaranda (@nicolette.faison) | @sanctifiedart

Rev. Nicolette Peñaranda has incorporated many Adinkra symbols from the Gyaman people of Ghana and Côte d’Ivoire into her art. Learn more about their meanings and significance at adinkrasymbols.org.

Maybe that’s the way it is with God.

I say, "Here’s my heart"

and God smiles.

And God takes it.

And despite the ragtag nature of my human-hearted faith,

whatever I can give always ends up on God’s mantel.

Whatever I can give always calls for pride and joy.

—from the poem “Here’s My Heart” by Rev. Sarah A. Speed | @sanctifiedart

Though Peter’s story does not end with the conclusion of the Gospels, we finish our series with Peter’s encounter with the risen Christ. In this final week, we come full circle with Peter. He has dropped his nets, walked on water, professed his faith, been rebuked, received footwashing, denied Jesus, and run to the tomb. And now, Jesus once again meets him at the shoreline where Peter is casting his nets. Jesus offers abundant nourishment and also a new command: “Feed my sheep.” Then he turns to Peter and asks three times, “Do you love me?” It’s as if Jesus says, “Here’s my heart,” which washes over Peter’s three denials like a healing balm. No matter how far we wander, may we entrust our hearts to God. No matter if our faith is strong or weak, what we can give is our love. | @sanctifiedart

We are not asked to explain the resurrection, offer proof for the resurrection, or make a case for the resurrection. Instead, like Peter, we live in wonder—for how belief in the God of resurrection truly can change the world.

—Rev. Dr. Karoline Lewis (@karoline.lewis), from her commentary on Luke 24:1-12 | @sanctifiedart

Painted in ink on paper, Peter’s expression here is inquisitive with a touch of concern. He’s tired, but hopeful. He has just gotten amazing news. Joanna, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James relayed the message and Peter dared to believe it. The prophecy is coming true.

So many of the things that Jesus foretold have happened over the last few days. The most heavy on Peter’s heart are his repeated denials. Fear took over. In contrast, now hope and joy begin to bubble up inside. He will see Jesus again! Jesus has overcome death! The prophecies have been fulfilled! Truly, God is in this place.

—from the artist's statement for “Where?” by Hannah Garrity | @sanctifiedart

Write a letter to encourage your younger self at a time when you felt hopeless. | @sanctifiedart

Like Peter,

I would run if I could.

Stop the car,

pump my arms,

take the church steps two at a time,

all to know—

Did it happen?

Did it really happen?

Is evil no match for love?

—from the poem “Easter Morning” by Rev. Sarah A. Speed | @sanctifiedart

What fills you with wonder and awe today? | @sanctifiedart

God of the garden, just as Peter ran toward you on that Easter morning, I too am running. I am running toward a stronger sense of self. I am running toward my call. I am running toward deeper relationships and deeper faith. I am running into the arms of love. Like Peter, I run toward you. Wait for me. I am on my way. Amen.

—prayer by Rev. Sarah A. Speed | @sanctifiedart

We might expect that, after denying Christ, Peter would cower in shame—or perhaps even run away in an attempt to leave his past behind him. Instead, when he hears the news from the women, he doesn’t dismiss them like the other disciples. He gets up and runs to the tomb. When he peers into the empty tomb and sees the linen cloth, he is filled with awe. Even after the biggest failures, even after the worst case scenario has happened, can we run toward hope? Like Peter, will we keep going? Will we keep looking for God in our midst? | @sanctifiedart

I imagine Peter is frozen—with guilt, rage, and regret—still standing by the fire. I imagine he remains there for hours, unable to move, paralyzed by fear. I imagine he mourns privately, pleading for a miracle, praying the worst will not come, crying out again, “God forbid it!” (Matthew 16:22) In the background, the shadow of a cross flickers like flames rising from the charcoal fire.

"Were you there when they crucified my Lord?" For Peter, the answer is “no.” He has left the God he loves.

In this image, God’s river of grace flows out from the cross and spills out before a bereaved Peter. Even in this moment of deep despair, God’s abundance rushes to greet him.

—from the artist's statement for “Were You There?” by Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity | @sanctifiedart

I depict [Peter] going from stunned to defensive and then to belligerent, navigating the full spectrum of the fight, flight, or freeze responses to a perceived threat. By the time the cock crows as Jesus predicted (see if you can make out the bird’s faint silhouette in the lower right-hand corner), Peter probably no longer recognizes himself. He must feel deflated and ashamed. At the end of his descent he is different, so I depict him differently from his three prior denials. He has much less fire in his countenance and can’t even open his eyes to face what he’s done.

The flames recall the fire where Peter warmed himself, but they also represent purification and illumination. Peter is forced to see himself as he truly is—as Jesus had already shown him. Who will he choose to be after this? When we are confronted with who we truly are, who will we choose to be after that confrontation? As we look at Peter’s journey, it’s my prayer that we will consider and meditate on our own.

—from the artist's statement for "The Descent" by Rev. T. Denise Anderson (@tdandersonart) | @sanctifiedart

Pressed in by soldiers and religious leaders, surrounded by lanterns, torches, and weapons, Peter does what many of us would do. He responds to the threat of violence with violence. With sword in hand, he tries to take the unfolding narrative into his own hands and cuts off Malchus' ear. Jesus tells Peter to "put the sword back into its sheath” (John 18:11).

Peter had a choice. He could continue down the path of violence, fight the soldiers and religious leaders and protect Jesus from the inevitable, or he could yield, dropping his sword and surrendering to the cup that God has placed before his friend. In the image, this choice is suspended in time. Is Peter releasing the sword and choosing the way of peace? Or is Peter about to take up the sword and choose the way of violence?

—from the artist's statement for "Disarming Peter" by Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman | @sanctifiedart

Looking through the eyes of Peter, I was floored by Jesus’ judgment of Peter in this text (John 13:38). Jesus’s response to Peter sounds harsh coming from a loving God. I think that that is why I was so surprised as I studied the scripture. So I looked deeper to see what Jesus is actually going through, to see where his perspective may be coming from. Trauma. With this lens, my fragile frustration with Jesus is really me centering myself. Jesus is constantly putting himself in harm’s way and now he’s heading toward the cross. Yet, I am still demanding him to be polite to me, not to call my bluff.

My reaction is to push back, to not have sympathy and deference for the real difficulty he is going through. I wonder in my daily life whose trauma I am still approaching ineffectively. How can I learn from Jesus’ valid impatience with Peter’s empty, well-meaning promises?

—from the artist's statement for "Really?" by Hannah Garrity | @sanctifiedart

Peter’s question is more than apt: “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” After all, Jesus has just had his feet anointed with abundant perfume by Mary. We should be washing Jesus’ feet! And yet, could it be that because Jesus has been extravagantly loved by Mary that he can now wash the feet of Peter, the one who will deny him, and Judas, the one who will betray him? It is from being loved himself that Jesus says to his disciples, “you also ought to wash one another’s feet” (John 13:14).

—Rev. Dr. Karoline Lewis (@karoline.lewis), from her commentary on John 13:1-20

Art: “Golden Hour” by Rev. Nicolette Peñaranda (@nicolette.faison) | @sanctifiedart

We’ve been taught to

never make a scene,

but I simply cannot abide.

I am one part questions,

two parts hunger.

I am a million prayers

and deep hope

wrapped up in one.

I am famished and hopeful,

eager and humbled.

—from the poem “With My Outside Voice” by Rev. Sarah A. Speed | @sanctifiedart