Before His death, Jesus dined with His disciples. It was Passover, the annual feast to remember Yahweh’s deliverance of the Israelites from Egypt after hundreds of years of slavery. (See Exodus 11 and 12.) To those seated at the table, it was simply another Jewish celebration. Jesus knew otherwise.
This would be the Passover to which all the other Passovers had pointed. He would be the lamb sacrificed, His blood providing cover and allowing the sentence of death to pass over God’s people, setting us free from our slavery to sin.
I’ve tried to imagine what that night must’ve been like for Jesus, agonizing over His upcoming suffering while also preparing the disciples for theirs. For three years, He’d poured into them, teaching and mentoring them. And yet they still didn’t grasp what was about to take place. They didn’t understand that their hopes were about to be hung on a cross. Instead, like teenagers vying for popularity, they argued about who was the greatest (Luke 22:24).
Which is why, I believe, Jesus turned to Simon Peter, a leader among them, with a few pointed words:
“Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail..”
But he replied, “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death.”
Jesus answered, “I tell you, Peter, before the rooster crows today, you will deny three times that you know me.”
— Luke 22:31–34
For much of the last several years I’ve thought about this scene. Later that night, Peter faced his own crucible. Passionate but overly confident, he thought he was ready for the worst. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Jesus could see what Peter couldn’t. Peter’s good intentions would fail him long before he fled that night’s garden. Which is why what happened next is so important.
Hidden in Jesus’ poignant words to a perplexed Peter sit two extraordinary gifts.
First, a warning. “Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat.”
Oof. Talk about bad news. It’s not every day you hear the devil is about to eat you for lunch.
And second, a promise. “I have prayed for you, Simon.”
Whoa. Let that sink in. Jesus, the one Peter had declared to be “the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16), prayed for the man who would, before the end of the night, deny he ever knew Him. Long before the shock of Jesus’ arrest shattered Peter’s confidence, long before he tucked tail and fled in fear, long before he sat around a community fire and told accusing onlookers, “I don’t know the man!” (Matthew 26:74), yes, long before Peter failed, Jesus prayed.
Peter’s spiritual sifting wasn’t a war that would be won by confidence or even the wielding of a sword. Instead, Peter needed the fortifying prayers of the Savior.
A warning (bad news). And a promise (ridiculously good news).
Jesus had all of His Father’s power and authority at His fingertips. He could’ve called down fire and lightning or weapon-wielding angels, or even wrapped Peter in bubble wrap. Of all the things Jesus could’ve done to mitigate Peter’s pain, He prayed.
He didn’t pray for Peter’s health, his family, his finances, or even his ability to fight back and escape arrest and death.
Instead, Jesus prayed for his faith.
In our places of suffering, we believe what is most at stake are our relationships, family, safety, financial security, health, or even our very lives. We think the diagnosis, divorce, or death is the worst that could happen.
We couldn’t be more wrong.
