On the left, Peter looks out from the palm procession—his eyes glazed over as he watches Jesus riding into the city where he will surely meet his death. As the crowds sing “hosanna!” for a new, soon-to-be-killed-king, the dissonance of the scene causes Peter to tremble—like a guitar string snapped suddenly mid-tune.

In the top right is Peter’s mirror image. In this mirage, we glimpse the future. Peter stands aghast at the empty tomb, waves of hope and relief rushing through him like a river of grace, the remembering happening all at once—like a childhood song plucked from memory, like the refrain of a chorus that won’t let you go: it’s true, it’s true, thank God it’s true.

—from the artist's statement for "Then They Remembered" by Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity | @sanctifiedart

What questions would you like to ask God? | @sanctifiedart

God of Grace, there is no limit to your kindness. No matter how many times I lose my way or fall short, you are always running to meet me with open arms. I cannot shake your mercy. I cannot lose your love. You are always there for me. Teach me how to love people like that. Teach me how to be persistent in mercy, resilient in love, and overflowing with grace. I want to be more like you. Amen.

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

[Peter’s encounter with Jesus] inspires us to open ourselves to the expansive grace of God. By doing so, we can create a world where forgiveness mends what is broken, and where the beauty of repair shines through, illuminating our shared humanity.

—Dr. Terence Lester (@imterencelester), from his commentary on Matthew 18:15-22 | @sanctifiedart

“Love your neighbor and forgive”

Words so simple yet so hard

We have wounds because we’ve lived

Calluses enfold our hearts

Jesus reaches out to touch

Wounds and hearts that hold too much

Love is risky, peace is faint

And forgiveness feels naive

All are sinners, all are saints

And we all God’s grace receive

So we follow mercy’s way

Softening our hearts to grace

—from the hymn "Love Your Neighbor and Forgive" by Rev. Anna Strickland | @sanctifiedart

In this mandala, I wanted to follow a person through the process of reproval, forgiveness, reconciliation, and restoration as Jesus describes in Matthew 18. When I was drawing the figures from the center out, it began to look like a dance. Is this the picture that grace paints? Forgiveness cannot happen in isolation and certainly neither can reconciliation nor restoration. The movement toward wholeness is the movement toward one another.

Perhaps craving more tangibility and practicality, Peter asks how many times he should forgive someone who has wronged him, and Jesus says, “Not seven times, but I tell you, seventy-seven times” (Matthew 18:22). This piece contains seventy-seven people and flowers to represent the abundance of grace that Jesus calls us into. The gold represents the divine presence of empathy, compassion, grace, and love throughout this dance from isolation toward community, from brokenness toward wholeness, and from guilt and shame toward freedom.

—from the artist's statement for "Seventy-seven times" by Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman | @sanctifiedart

Teach me about mercy, about open hands and deep breaths.

Teach me about the dawn of time and the stars in the sky.

Teach me what matters most.

Teach me what is mine to do.

Teach this achingly curious heart

until I run out of questions

or I run out of days.

—from the poem “Teach Me” by Rev. Sarah A. Speed | @sanctifiedart

Peter is often all or nothing, either resisting Jesus or drawing closer to him in earnest. In this scripture, we see a version of Peter who is hungry to learn. His posture is humble and open—he wants to absorb Jesus’ teachings like a wet sponge. He asks a question and might expect a straightforward answer: “How many times should I forgive?” Instead, Jesus’ math is not predictable—it’s infinite. Forgiveness is abundant; grace is not earned. In your own faith, do you find comfort in theological formulas? Do you wish for straightforward answers? Can you let go of black-and-white thinking and instead embrace the infinite colors of grace? | @sanctifiedart

Create a mission statement or vision board for yourself. What anchors you? What is true no matter what? | @sanctifiedart

Life was easy, faith was stable

Then the pathway climbed uphill

Life got harder past the cradle

Jesus Christ I followed still

Thread by thread my faith unraveled

When the way became unknown

Solid ground gave way to gravel

So I cling to Christ alone

—from the hymn "The Way" by Rev. Anna Strickland | @sanctifiedart

God, open both my hands. Spread my fingers wide. Let the weight of the world run through. Release my grip on control. Release my grip on the desire to be the best. Hold me tightly so that I can hold what is heavy loosely. With open hands, I pray. Amen.

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

Unraveling can lead to profound growth. Like Peter, we may have to face inconvenient truths and drop our preconceived notions. Jesus’ response to Peter reminds us of the importance of our commitment to God’s mission, even when it’s difficult.

—Dr. Terence Lester (@imterencelester), from his commentary on Matthew 16:21-23 | @sanctifiedart

With every brush stroke in this ink painting, the humanity of Peter’s face deepens, his expression clarifies. He cannot let his beloved friend be murdered. He worries about human things. How weighty and legitimate those things feel. Jesus seems free of those human worries. He focuses with confidence on the path ahead, though Peter’s concern causes him to falter.

Perhaps we can each be free of human concerns as well… However, that feels like a pipe dream, and Jesus knows it: “Get behind me, Satan” (Matthew 16:23). He does not blame Peter. Instead, he calls out Satan from within his friend. In doing so, he offers us a much needed reminder to refocus.

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

Remind me that birds must fly

and children must grow

and leaves must fall.

And even though

we are born with the ability

to hold tight,

we can learn how to love

with open hands.

—from the poem “Open Hands” by Rev. Sarah A. Speed | @sanctifiedart

When your world unravels and your beliefs are tested, you may cling to what you know. As Jesus foretells his death and resurrection, Peter protests. Peter is fixed upon the way he thinks things should go; he resists the pain of what will come. But Jesus is fixed upon his calling and calls Peter out. For everyone, there comes a time when your faith is tested and you will have to face difficult and inconvenient truths. We may want to take the easier path, the path with less pain. We may want to cling to easy or simplistic answers. Instead, what does it look like to welcome complexity? Can you stay fixed upon your convictions while also expanding your perspective? | @sanctifiedart

When in your life have you felt closest to God? What are some of the “mountain top” moments in your faith? | @sanctifiedart

In this image I wanted to create a kaleidoscope of perception, imaging the ways Jesus is perceived in the context of this passage, like light broken down into a myriad of shapes and colors. In the gold rays of light Jesus' form is obscured by the metallic shine of God's glory. In the gray and earth-tone rays he is seen in monochrome. Each of the earth-tone rays holds a pattern on Jesus' clothing which represents a misunderstanding of who Jesus is.

Through the middle of the image, there is a ray of light where the image comes into full color that holds this moment of clarity where Jesus and Peter truly see one another. In this ray, Peter's clothing holds symbols of his new identity: a rock upon which the Church will be built and keys to the kingdom. Jesus' clothing holds imagery—an oil jar and the light of the sun—representing the way Peter sees him as the Messiah and Son of the living God.

—from the artist's statement for "Who Do You Say That I Am?" by Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman | @sanctifiedart

Here at the peak I clearly see

All of the pieces you’ve laid out

And in this brief though timeless peace

Such clarity occludes my doubts

Here at the peak you clearly name

Who you created me to be

Identified not by my shame

But by the gifts you gave to me

—from the hymn "Here at the Peak" by Rev. Anna Strickland | @sanctifiedart

Holy God, maybe it was the first time I saw snow. . . Maybe it was when the floor fell out from under me. . . Maybe it was the day I fell in love, or my first bible study. Whenever it was that my faith became my own, you were there. So today I ask: continue to make this faith my own. Create in me a faith-seeking heart. With hope I pray, amen.

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

As we explore Peter’s confession, we witness the blossoming of a seed that was sown throughout his journey. This confession and recognition of Jesus as the Messiah testifies to the transformative power of faith and God’s constant presence.

—Dr. Terence Lester (@imterencelester), from his commentary on Matthew 16:13-20 | @sanctifiedart