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The night was dark and ugly
The crowd calling for blood.
Out in the garden of Gethsemane
Walked Jesus the Son of God.
There too were His disciples,
Frightened, confused, bereft.
Till finally all had fled away,
And only Peter was left.

He followed at a distance
Till the high priests house they reached
Stood alone in the courtyard,
While Caiaphas shouts and screeched.
Accusing Jesus of blasphemy,
For the Messiah he claimed to be.
Peter, by a charcoal fire
Strained forward so he could see.

 "You're one of them the young girl said,
It's plain as plain can be."
"I’ve never seen this man before
One of those? Oh no, not me!"
But yet the girl persisted,
"I know you're one of his men."
Peter cursed and swore at her,
Then denied The Lord again.

He moved out to the entrance,
But the crowd were far from nice.
"I know him not!" poor Peter cried,
Then the cock bird crowed - just twice.
The memory then of Jesus words
Came flooding back to him.
"Three times you will disown me,
Three times that you will sin."

 The days went by as though a blur,
Yet filled with such regret.
That night around the charcoal fire
He never could forget.
One morning on the fishing boat,
A little out to sea,
He smelt the smell of charcoal.
Not again....no, it couldn't be.

 Looking out towards the shore
He saw a figure hunched and low.
A voice rang out, a voice so clear,
That instantly they know.
"It is The Lord", John shouted out,
Peter leapt straight from the ship.
It mattered not if clothed or wet,
He ended this fishing trip!

Breakfast of fish on red hot coals
Were eaten on shore that day,
And when the meal was over
The Master had His say.
No blame, no shame, just one question
Was asked to Peter thrice.
“Peter do you love Me?”
Three times, not once, not twice.

 “Oh Lord, you who knows everything,
You see inside my heart.
You know how much I love you,
Regret tears me apart.”
“Then feed my sheep dear Peter,
Care for my lambs as well.
On you I'll build my church one day,
And in My presence dwell.”

So as we look at Peter,
And how from grace he fell.
The lesson that he teaches us
Is good news, so I'll tell.
We fall, and fail, deny, and curse,
In fact we've done the same
As Peter's done,
And hang our heads in shame.

 The charcoal fire is waiting,
I can smell the fish from here.
The Master too is beckoning,
He wants us to draw near.
For there is full forgiveness,
For those who know they've fell.
Come now and seek that cleansing,
The charcoal I can smell.

There’s been many a time at communion

That I’ve gazed at the bread and the wine.

So often in fact, that often I lack

To comprehend fully the sign

That these elements demonstrate to us,

The story they bring to our mind.

Of why they are used, so often abused,

Yet ignore it ? Yes we’re often  unkind.

I know we are there to remember,

The death of our Saviour, God’s Son.

Yet we get so familiar, it all seems so similar,

That the meaning is beyond us – undone.

It becomes to us second nature,

To receive the cup and the bread.

The fact He was killed, is our mind ever stilled?

No, we forget that He ever was dead.

I’m aware of my sin, there’s enough of it,

I’m reminded of it each time I pray.

It’s there in the Book, each time that I look,

That fact will I think, ever stay.

Yet the same book speaks of forgiveness,

That the price of sin has been met.

No more do I owe, I can now let it go,

For God has said He’ll forget.

 I gazed into the cup set before me,

Then a question I asked my dear Lord.

“Did you ever stop, to count every drop -

That that out of your body poured?

How many drops does it take Lord?

To wash away all of my sin?

I then felt a tear, as He spoke in my ear,

And such love overwhelmed me within.

I knew all that the Bible said about sin,

And that shedding of blood was required.

But the answer I got, that erased every spot,

Was nothing short of inspired.

I had pictured in my mind a river,

That at the least would be needed to stop

My journey to hell, I knew that so well,

Yet He said...No, just one drop!

One drop of my blood is sufficient,

To erase from your record, your sin.

I said, “That can’t be, I’m so black, you can see,

I’m filthy without, and within.

“Look no longer at what you have done or said.

 This all belongs in the past.

Fix your gaze upon me, as I hang from the tree.

That drop will eternity last.

So whenever the cup and the bread are served,

I can never again feel condemned.

What Christ has done, the victory He’s won,

Through the blood that was not stemmed.

Can I ever forget the word that He spoke?

That forced my doubts to stop.

That one single act, an indisputable fact,

The cleansing that came from one drop.