“You’re nothing to me, a bug I could easily smash under my boot,” he spit out the words in contempt. “Get out of the way before that’s what I do with you!” the soldier demanded, and he shoved me back with the side of his sword.
I fell against others in the mob who further pushed me. Me! I stumbled backward coming to land hard in the dirt of the road. I struggled hard to get back on my feet and not be crushed. What cruelty! But I could take this – anything – I would not abandon the Master. I strained to catch sight of him again far ahead now. “Please Lord, why are you allowing this? You have the power! But if you won’t, I will. I will never abandon you.”
I pushed my way forward. I had to see him again.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Another guard struck me as I was making progress . “Get back – we warned you before, you piece of dirt!”
He spit on me, and I fell from his shove, all the way down onto my back. Someone stepped hard on my hand. Others in the crowd didn’t notice as they marched across my arm, my chest. Almost unable to breathe, I rolled to the side. I got up more slowly, painfully this time. My hand bled. OK if it must be at this distance, still, I will follow.
I followed right into the courtyard of the high priest. This didn’t seem right. None of it!
“What they’re doing is wrong,” I muttered. I felt sore, angered and I wanted to hear others who agreed with me. No one said a word of agreement. A number of heads turned toward me, their eyes critical, threatening.
It seemed so long. Where was Jesus? What were they doing to him? I felt discouraged, out of control, cold in the night air. I moved to warm myself by the fire.
I heard dreaded words. “You were with that man Jesus.” Not only did she so nonchalantly accuse me before the others, but she relished the moment.
I wanted to shake her and yell “Shut up!” Instead, I said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There, that should fix her and her attitude.
I moved away toward the entryway. I didn’t want any trouble. The same nuisance of a servant girl came by, pointed at me and said to the others there, “He’s one of them.” They heard her and looked at me. I could see the hateful expressions they cast at me.
“You could not be more wrong!” I hurled the words at her. Determined to look unbothered by the girl, I didn’t walk away again. After they watched and considered me for a little while, one of those standing near said, “I believe her, not you. You’re certainly one of them. You’re a Galilean.”
Everything was so confusing. I didn’t understand how this could be happening. I had done nothing wrong. Why did they continue to taunt, torture me? “May curses come down on me if I’m lying. I do not know the man!”
The sound of the rooster came clear and strong. And I remembered and I broke down and cried.
He had called me the rock. The rock on which he would build his church. But I knew then that if He was depending on me there would be no church. I was not a rock but a quivering mass of rotten debris. I was so ashamed. The world would do best to forget me and my cowardice. I could not get past what I’d done. I’d let my Lord down. Even worse, if I had it to do over, I think I’d do the same. I am nothing but a disappointment – and to think I was foolish enough to think I’d be amazing… He is gone because I failed. This story has its basis in the gospel of Mark.