Now Simon Peter followed Jesus, and the other disciple. But that disciple was known to the high priest, and went in with Jesus into the palace of the high priest;
Two disciples trail behind the arresting party as it leads Jesus to the high priest's house. Only one of them has the connections to get inside. That small detail about who knew whom opens the door to Peter's collapse.
Peter did follow. Another Gospel adds that he kept his distance. Together they give an honest picture of a disciple in trouble.
Verse 15 assures us that Simon Peter followed Jesus, though Luke 22:54 speaks of his following "afar off." He was true, but he wavered. Sadly, that is the case with too many of us who believe.
Peter did not lack courage. He lacked a strength his own nature could not supply.
We have seen Peter's natural energy; now we are to see the weakness of that same nature. Peter did follow Jesus, but he followed in self-confidence, only to learn his own weakness… To follow the Lord we need a power beyond nature to hold us up. The Lord had just prayed to the Father to keep His disciples from evil. So often it is the same with us. Peter thinks he can keep himself, and he is allowed to fall, so that he learns his own weakness.
Many have taken the unnamed second disciple to be the man who wrote this Gospel.
The writer of this Gospel never gives his name. He calls himself "the disciple whom Jesus loved" or "another disciple." It fits the style of the whole book that we should find him here, close to the One on whose chest he had leaned. It was through him that Peter was able to go in to the Jewish council, but this nearness only gave the occasion for his denial.
Not everyone agreed on who that disciple was.
"Known to the high priest." Chrysostom and Cyril regard the disciple "known to the high priest" as the writer of this Gospel. Augustine and others have questioned that; Bengel supposed Nicodemus was meant; Zahn thinks James… In any case, "known" is not the same word as "kinsman" in verse 26. If it is the writer of this Gospel, any trade connection he may have had with the high priest would be enough to explain the word used here.
Being an acquaintance opened a door that discipleship never would have. Commentators differ on whether that was a mercy or a trap. One takes the connection as worldly influence used at the worst possible moment:
Again we see Simon Peter following the Lord, but not in the Spirit. Nor was the other disciple there to his own honour, still less to the Lord's. He gets into the high priest's palace as a man known to that official, and in no way as a follower of Jesus. And how he must soon have grieved over the kind influence he used to get Peter let in, when Peter had to stay outside!
Another writer sees no compromise in him at all.
Though he is never named, he surprises us with the quiet boldness of faith and love. It carries him through untouched and unquestioned, while the seemingly bolder disciple breaks down so badly. He is known to the high priest, and to the gatekeeper, and known as a follower of Christ too. Her question to Peter shows it: "You also are not one of this man's disciples, are you?"
Whatever the motive, the effect on Peter was ruinous. The same access that sheltered one man exposed the other.
His acquaintance with the high priest gave him a little worldly status and privilege, which he used to introduce Peter into the place of danger… That which trips up one disciple may leave another unmoved. And Satan knows exactly how to set his traps.
Inside the courtyard, the two men went different ways. One closed the gap; the other settled by a stranger's fire.
Then he sees Peter at the door. He speaks to the servant girl who kept the door, and so gets Peter in. I am sure that once John and Peter were inside, John made straight for his Master, to get as near to Him as possible. May the Lord keep us near Him too! To be near Him is the only place of safety for the soul that knows Him. I believe that if Peter had been near Him that day, he would never have fallen.
- Following. Peter did follow, and that was real — but at a distance, and the distance is where the danger began.
- Weakness. He followed in self-confidence. He thought he could keep himself, and he was allowed to fall so that he would learn his own weakness.
- Access. The unnamed disciple got in because he knew the high priest, not because he followed Jesus. Commentators differ on whether that showed worldly connection or quiet courage.
- Danger. A small privilege, kindly used, put a friend right where the enemy had set his trap. What trips one disciple may leave another untouched.
- Nearness. One disciple pressed close to his Master and stood; the other stayed back and denied Him. Nearness to Christ is the only safe place.
but Peter stood at the door without. The other disciple therefore, who was known to the high priest, went out and spoke to the porteress and brought in Peter.
Peter can get no further than the gate of the high priest's court. Another disciple — one the high priest knows — goes out and brings him in, and that small kindness raises two questions: who was this disciple, and what did his help cost Peter?
Commentators have never agreed on who this second disciple was.
While Chrysostom and Cyril regard the disciple "known to the high priest" as the Evangelist, Augustine and others have questioned the identity. Bengel supposed Nicodemus to be meant; Zahn thinks James... In any case, we must distinguish "known" from "kinsman" (verse 26). If it is the Evangelist, any trade connection he may have had with the high priest would sufficiently explain the word used here.
Some object that a high priest would never know a fisherman.
We may utterly reject the assumption that the high priest was too great a person to have the son of Zebedee as an acquaintance. John was not "a mean fisherman," though Calvin says it. And even if he had been, how strange to ignore that the proudest may have close relations with the lowly, for reasons too many and too obvious to need another word.
The disciple is most likely John, and his standing with the high priest did Peter no good.
The "other disciple" known to the high priest was pretty clearly John himself. His acquaintance with the high priest gave him a little worldly status and privilege, which he used to bring Peter into the place of danger. The word "also" in verse 17 seems to imply that the girl keeping the door knew that John was a disciple of Jesus. He had not been tempted to deny it as Peter had. What trips up one disciple may leave another unmoved.
A kind word to the doorkeeper had consequences John never intended.
How he must soon have grieved over the kindly influence he used to get Peter in! Until then Peter had to stay outside. Little did he think that his word to the doorkeeper would give occasion for the terrible and repeated fall of his beloved fellow-servant. But every word of the Lord had to be fulfilled. It seems the maid who kept the door knew John was a disciple, since she says to Peter, "Are you also one of this man's disciples?" But she put the testing question to Peter, not to John. And Peter, so bold in the garden, now gives way completely before this woman.
Peter trusted himself to hold out, and the courtyard proved him wrong.
Another disciple enters the palace, not as a disciple of Jesus, but as an acquaintance of the high priest. So he becomes the means of leading Peter into a false position, and Peter breaks down at the simple question of a serving girl... To follow the Lord we need a power beyond nature to sustain us. The Lord had just prayed to the Father to keep His disciples from evil. As so often with ourselves, Peter thinks he can keep himself, and is allowed to fall so that he may learn his own weakness.
One writer sets John's favour to Peter beside a far greater introduction, and marks where the comparison ends.
He does not bring us just to the edge of the place of favour — to "some low place within the door." That is what might happen if our Introducer had only limited influence there. We can hardly suppose that John the son of Zebedee, though known to the high priest, was especially close to him. His influence was just enough to get his friend Simon Peter admitted to the high priest's palace... Through John, Peter obtained access into the palace of the high priest, but not into his favour. This John could not do, and so the illustration falls short of our subject.
Christ gives what John could not.
The right of admittance to this favour we have by Christ Jesus. What we could not have in ourselves He has secured to us permanently... In ourselves we can offer no claim to such favour, but in Christ what claims are found! How great is the favour of God in which Christ Jesus stands! Is He not the One whom God delights to honour? And He is our Introducer.
- Known — the other disciple knew the high priest but was not his relative. Most take him to be John; others have suggested Nicodemus or James.
- Influence — a little worldly standing opened the door, and it brought Peter into the place of danger.
- Kindness — John meant well at the door, yet his word opened the way to Peter's repeated denial.
- Position — inside the court Peter stood in a false position. One servant girl's question broke him. Following the Lord needs power beyond nature.
- Contrast — John's influence reached only as far as the door. Christ brings us not to the edge of God's favour but right into it.
The maid therefore, who was porteress, says to Peter, Art thou also of the disciples of this man? He says, I am not.
Peter has followed Jesus into the high priest's courtyard. The first person to challenge him is not a soldier or a judge, but the girl minding the gate. Her question is mild, almost casual. Yet it breaks the man who had just sworn he would die for his Master.
Peter did not collapse without warning. One writer traces the slide step by step.
What steps we see in Peter's downward course, leading to his denial of the Lord he loved! First, he declared he was ready to die for Him — though the Lord had just told him that Satan wanted to have him, and that He was praying for him. Next, he slept when he should have been watching. Then he fought when he should have been quiet. Then he followed far off when he should have been near. And now he sits down side by side with the enemies of Christ, warming himself! With such a run-up, one can only expect what followed.
The word "also" in her question is a clue: the doorkeeper already knew the other disciple was one of them. Yet the pressure fell on Peter, not on him.
It seems the girl who kept the door knew that John was a disciple, for she says to Peter, "You also are not one of this man's disciples, are you?" But she put the testing question to Peter, not to John. And Peter, so bold in the garden, now gives way completely before this woman. Such is man, though a saint: what is he to be counted as? Fleshly energy is no better in Christ's eyes than fleshly weakness. That weakness not only lied but denied his Master by denying that he belonged to Him as a disciple.
Two disciples stood in the same courtyard. Only one of them broke.
He himself, though unnamed, surprises us with the quiet boldness of faith and love. It carries him through untouched and unquestioned, where the seemingly bolder disciple breaks down so helplessly... Let us get nearer to His heart. Then we will be fit to walk steadily and undisturbed through the world's attractions and its threats alike, armed against each by the secrets we learn there.
The girl did not ask Peter what he believed. She asked whether he belonged to Jesus. His answer was a lie, and it left him free to sit with the wrong crowd.
Peter, indeed, followed Jesus, but he does so in self-confidence, only to learn his own weakness... Peter senses danger in admitting that he is a disciple of One whom the high priest has foretold must die. So he tells a deliberate lie. A man bold and courageous by nature breaks down when he is in a false position. To follow the Lord we need a power beyond nature to hold us up... So he denies that he is a disciple and, having done so, can keep company with the Lord's enemies, and warm himself at the world's fire.
Peter's failure is not just history. One writer turns it into a mirror for the reader.
Beware of fires, of warmth and comfort and pleasure, created by the enemies of the Lord Jesus. How many young Christians have forgotten this, and paid dearly for it. Peter identified himself with the world... Look at him — at yourself, too — in the priest's palace. A little girl can make him tremble. He is ashamed to confess that Holy One, who was Himself making such a good confession.
The four Gospels place the first denial in different spots. One writer sets them side by side.
John tells us that the girl who kept the door was the first to challenge him. Matthew says she came to him as he sat outside in the courtyard. Both Mark and Luke tell us that the first denial took place as he sat by the fire. There is no inconsistency in these statements. The facts, I conclude, are that the girl began to challenge him at the door, and followed him to the fireplace, where others would join in her taunting.
Jesus did not pray that Peter would avoid the fall. He prayed for what the fall would produce.
This is a condition which not only exposes one to fall, but for which the fall itself may be the only remedy. We have to learn that only when we are weak are we strong, and that Christ's strength is made perfect in weakness... In such a case as this, the Lord Himself cannot pray that Peter may not fall. He prays instead that Peter may be "converted" by it — turned from that dangerous self-confidence to a sense that he cannot trust himself, even for a moment.
- Drift. The denial began long before the door: boasting, then sleeping, then fighting, then following far off.
- Distance. Nearness to Christ, not natural courage, carried the other disciple through untouched.
- Denial. The girl asked about belonging, not doctrine, and Peter lied about the one tie that defined him.
- Contrast. The servant trembled at a girl's question while his Master was making a good confession.
- Design. The fall itself was the cure for self-confidence. Christ prayed not that Peter would escape it, but that it would turn him.
But the bondmen and officers, having made a fire of coals (for it was cold), stood and warmed themselves; and Peter was standing with them and warming himself.
Peter has followed Jesus into the high priest's courtyard. John stops to show us where he stands: at a fire, among the men who arrested his Master. The detail looks small, yet commentators treat it as the moment Peter's fall becomes visible.
The layout of such a house explains how the Lord could see Peter at the fire.
Houses of any importance — and the high priest's palace was sure to be one — usually formed a square around an open inner court... The interior court was usually open to the sky, and here it was that they "had made a charcoal fire, because it was cold." ... Most of the ground-floor rooms opened directly into the court. Some were large and formed a place of audience, quite open to the court. It was most probably in a chamber of this sort, open at the back to the court, that Jesus stood before the high priest. So we can see how the Lord, when He turned, could see Peter in the court among the servants.
Peter did not arrive at this fire in one leap. One writer traces the whole descent.
What steps we see in Peter's downward course, leading to his denial of the Lord he loved! First, he declared he was ready to die for Him — though the Lord had just told him that Satan wanted to have him, and that He was praying for him. Next, he slept when he should have been watching. Then he fought when he should have been quiet. Then he followed far off when he should have been near. And now he sits down, side by side, with the enemies of Christ, and warms himself! With such a prelude one can only expect what followed.
John's wording puts Peter in a group — and the company he joined is the point.
Peter stood with them, not with his Master. What a mistake. The fire was pleasant on so cold a night; the company of these officers had perhaps some attraction too. Yet despite them and the fire of coals, "it was cold." No fire of coals had the power to make him truly warm. His heart was, sadly, wrong. Bad company had corrupted his good manners. His conduct was wrong too.
The verse gains its weight from what the Lord was suffering at that same moment.
The Lord is taken; and then we read that Peter went and sat down in the hall among the enemies of Christ, warming himself by the fire. Beloved friends, think of that! Men are striking the blessed Lord, despising Him, insulting Him, ill-treating Him. The enemies of Jesus are pouring out the hatred of their hearts against Him. And there is Peter, one of His own loved disciples, sitting down and warming himself by the enemy's fire!
Peter's denials did not come out of nowhere. Another writer points back to what he had already neglected.
He had slept when he ought to have watched and prayed. He had walked into the place of temptation instead of listening to the Lord's warning... Confessing Jesus among friends is very different from confessing Him before bloodthirsty enemies. Peter had to learn by painful experience what he was too unspiritual to take in from the words of Christ. It is a blessed thing to learn our nothingness and worse in the presence of the One who keeps us from falling. But every saint, and especially every servant, must learn himself. If he does not learn it in that presence, he learns it in the bitter humbling of what we are when we forget Him.
Another writer draws the same lesson toward the strength a disciple actually needs.
Peter, indeed, followed Jesus, but he does so in self-confidence, only to learn his own weakness... To follow the Lord we shall need a power that is beyond nature to sustain us. The Lord had just prayed to the Father to keep His disciples from evil. As so often with ourselves, Peter thinks he can keep himself, and is allowed to fall so that he may learn his own weakness. So he denies that he is a disciple and, having done so, can keep company with the Lord's enemies and warm himself at the world's fire.
One writer takes the cold as more than weather.
Away from Christ the disciple is always cold. No worldly warmth, no company, no associations, no pleasures can make up for His absence. The heart that prefers the world to Christ must always be cold. Peter did not become truly warm until he left the fireside and went out, and there wept bitterly.
Later in this Gospel the Lord Himself lights a fire of coals.
A fire of coals was there, lit by the Lord's own hands. How it would wake conscience and memory in Simon. He had drawn near to the fire of the Lord's foes, and it had been the scene of his disgrace and denial. Now the Lord draws him to His own fire and welcomes him there. That fire becomes the scene of his restoration and re-commission, according to the grace that abounds much more where sin abounded.
- Fire one. Peter warms himself at a fire lit by the men who had just arrested his Master — comfort borrowed from the wrong side.
- The drift. Self-confidence, then sleeping, then fighting, then following at a distance, then sitting among enemies. The denial was the last step, not the first.
- The company. He stood with them, not with his Master; bad company corrupted him before any question was ever asked.
- The cold. No fire of that kind can warm a heart away from Christ — Peter was only truly warm once he went out and wept.
- Fire two. The Lord lights His own fire, and the place of the fall becomes the place of restoration, where grace abounds more than sin.