Just wondering

I wonder as you sat there with your bread in hand
Did he think about what his betrayal meant?
And I wonder as he listened to Your voice
Did he know the grace, the mercy the Father already had sent?
Did he know you knew? Did he see it in your eyes?
Though the others were caught off guard
You were not surprised.

And I can’t help wondering if he remembered moments when
Your voice calmed the sea and your touch healed men?
And it astounds me so that he could have 3 years walked with You,
And still not believed enough to understand too.
Did he know you knew? Did he see it in your eyes?
Though the others were caught off guard
You were not surprised.

And I can’t help wondering when the cock sounded his crow
Did Peter feel Your love as his tears began to flow?
And it astounds me so that he could have declared You the Christ
And then days later not understood that price.
Did he know you knew? Did he see it in Your eyes?
Though he was caught off guard
You were not surprised.

And I can’t help wondering how I can miss a day
Standing in amazement at the price you’ve paid?
Yet, I know I’ve betrayed you and I know I’ve denied
And I’ve wondered if I get it and that I too have lied.
That I’m just like them with my tears in my eyes.
Do I know you knew? Do I see it in your eyes?
Though I was caught off guard
You were not surprised.


One of the most intriguing things about the Passion Week to me is the love of Christ toward those he knew would betray him, deny him, leave him, and disbelieve him. He knew. Yet he called Simon, “Peter”, a rock. And he gave Judas the job of treasurer! They had heard his voice, seen his miracles, walked and slept and listened and looked into the eyes of the Eternal One and they failed him, and he knew they would. He loved them. Still. Even so. And in that wonderful, honest, naked truth of the gospel I see his loving kindness toward me. There is nothing I have done; nothing I am doing; nothing I will do that He has not already seen, planned, and touched with His spirit so that it will work for my benefit, shaping me into the image of the Precious One. His resurrection astounds me deeper than I can describe. His crucifixion mortifies me in the knowledge that it was because of me and every individual “small” sin I have ever committed. But His loving kindness, His gentle mercy toward me humbles me to tears. And all of this wrapped up in one man, one week in history is too much to comprehend. But that’s ok, because He’s not caught off guard and He is not surprised. He knows I am but dust and He loves me anyway. (By the way, He feels the same about you.)