“On the way, Jesus told them, ‘Tonight all of you will desert me… But after I have been raised from the dead, I will go ahead of you to Galilee and meet you there.’ Peter declared, ‘Even if everyone else deserts you, I will never desert you.” Matthew 26:31–33 (NLT)
There is something deeply confronting about this moment.
Jesus speaks plainly about betrayal, scattering, and pain. He does not soften the reality of what is coming. He names the wound before it happens. Yet in the same breath, He declares resurrection. He speaks of suffering and victory in one sentence. He sees the cross clearly and still chooses obedience.
Peter, on the other hand, speaks with emotional certainty. His loyalty sounds strong. His devotion feels real. But it is untested. It is confident without comprehension.
And that is where I find myself.
Many of us are surprised when God’s call on our lives looks nothing like what we imagined. We hesitate when obedience carries a cost. We want the Galilee without the scattering. The promise without the process. The glory without the grief.
Jesus knew exactly how gruesome His journey would be and He still chose it. Not because it was easy. Not because it was pleasant. But because it was aligned with the will of the Father.
This passage reminds me how dependent I truly am. If I had known how lonely some seasons would feel, would I still have chosen His way? If I had known how long promotion would take, would I still have obeyed? If I had known marriage would not yet come, would I still have trusted?
In my own strength? No.
But dependence changes everything. It is not my resilience that has carried me. It is not my discipline. It is not even my devotion. It is His sustaining grace. Without Him, I am Peter bold in word, weak in endurance. With Him, I can follow even when the road is unclear.
Jesus did not deny the scattering. But He promised reunion. He did not deny the cross. But He promised resurrection. And the same Lord who spoke confidently about His own rising is the Lord who walks ahead of me.
I no longer want to live like someone who has no help.
If His Spirit rests upon me, then I refuse to navigate life as though I am alone. If we truly have the mind of Christ, then let it manifest in real decisions in courage, in clarity, in obedience when it costs.
Some days, when I pray, it feels like I’ve taken something rotten off a hidden shelf and thrown it out. A resentment. A fear. A quiet disappointment. Today feels like that.
And I am grateful. Grateful for what He heals without announcement. Grateful for what He strengthens without applause. Grateful that even when I feel scattered, He has already gone ahead to Galilee.
Wells of Wonder 