There are mistakes you make that you’d give anything to take back. The words leave your lips, the action is done—and immediately you know. Too late. The damage is permanent. You can’t rewind. And shame takes root.
Peter knew this feeling.
When the servant girl asked, “Aren’t you one of his disciples?” he didn’t hesitate—“I am not.”
When others pressed him, he denied it again.
And then came the third time: “Surely you are one of them.”
With curses he swore, “I don’t know the man.” While I can’t prove it, I imagine this was the first time in history Jesus’ name was spoken, not with reverence, but as a swear word.
At that exact moment, as he cursed, the rooster crowed. And across the courtyard, Jesus turned and looked straight at him.
It was the look that undid him. Not angry, not surprised—just the look of one who had been betrayed by a friend. The weight of shame broke over Peter like a flood. He fled into the night, weeping bitterly. He was the one who denied the Lord. That was his identity now.
The Long Night of Shame
Peter stumbled into the night with tears he couldn’t stop. And then came the silence—the heavy, echoing silence of shame.
Shame rarely sits quietly in the corner. It works its way into every crevice of life. For Peter, it may have looked like this:
Hide and Cover. He stayed out of sight, hoping no one would connect him with Jesus now. Better to disappear than risk being exposed again.
Self-Sabotage. The voice of shame hissed, “You don’t deserve another chance. You had your moment and you blew it.” Any dream of leading or preaching or building the kingdom felt shattered.
Blame and Defensiveness. Perhaps he replayed the trial in his mind and thought, “Why did they have to press me so hard? Why didn’t someone else speak up?” It’s easier to shift the weight than face the truth.
Numbing Out. And maybe, like so many of us, he simply tried to go numb. Better to feel nothing than to sit in the agony of failure.
This is what shame does. It doesn’t just tell us we made a mistake; it tells us we are a mistake. It twists our future, poisons our confidence, and leaves us curled inward, smaller than we were meant to be.
But shame does not get the last word. On another morning, at another charcoal fire, Jesus was already preparing breakfast—and Peter’s restoration.
The Charcoal Fire of Mercy
The Gospels include a detail easy to miss: when Peter denied Jesus, he was warming himself by a charcoal fire. It was the smell of his shame, the scent of denial etched into his memory.
And then, after the resurrection, Jesus set another charcoal fire. The disciples came in from a long night of fishing to find him waiting on the shore with bread and fish cooking. Peter stepped onto the sand, dripping wet from his swim, and there it was again—that smell. That fire. Peter couldn’t shake the memory of the smoke of that courtyard fire.
The Gospel doesn’t waste words, so the detail matters: it was a charcoal fire that Jesus had made. Charcoal, used to absorb the odor of smoke, becomes an image of what Jesus was doing for Peter. Around that fire, Jesus absorbed the stench of failure burned into Peter’s memory and identity.
Only this time, Jesus didn’t ask Peter to explain himself. He didn’t replay the moment of failure. He gave Peter a new script:
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, Lord, you know I do.”
“Feed my sheep.”
Three denials. Three affirmations. The shame was undone at a charcoal fire.
From Shame to Living Hope
Years later, Peter would write these words:
“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.”
(1 Peter 1:3)
Can you hear the echo? In his great mercy. Mercy greater than shame. Mercy strong enough to redefine a man who thought his mistake had ruined him.
Peter was no longer “the one who denied Christ.” He was the one who was forgiven and called again.
And so are you.
Your mistakes do not name you. Your shame does not define you. Mercy does. Resurrection does. Jesus does.
A Question for You
Where has shame tried to name you by your failures? And what would it look like to hear Jesus speak a truer word over you today?
None of us are meant to walk out of shame alone. We need others to remind us of mercy, to walk beside us, and to call us Beloved. Here are a few ways we can keep walking together.
Walk With Me
If this post resonated, here are three simple ways to take the next step:
Subscribe. Join The Compass to keep walking with us each week as we name lies, tell stories, and discover the mercy of God together.
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I love how stories like Peter’s were included in scripture. They help us see the compassionate response of Jesus is all of our mistakes. Thank you for sharing. ❤️