When the rooster crowed at dawn, real faith finally began. Through Shusaku Endo’s Silence and Peter’s bitter weeping, we see the aesthetics of failure. In this in-depth column, Pastor David Jang explores the “grace of brokenness” and a theology of restoration.
It
was an unusually cold and long night. In the courtyard of the high priest in
Jerusalem, even as the charcoal fire crackled, Peter’s soul was frozen through.
Only hours earlier he had boasted, “Even if I must go with You to prison and to
death, I will!”—but that bravado collapsed like a sandcastle before the fear of
death.
In
this scene, we cannot help but recall the climax of Shusaku Endo’s novel Silence.
In the story, Father Rodrigues is driven into an extreme situation where he is
forced to apostatize—to step on the sacred image (fumi-e). At that
moment, the Jesus within the trampled image speaks:
“Step
on it. I came into this world to be stepped on by you. I know your pain better
than anyone.”
The
agony of Rodrigues—who had to crush with his own foot the One he loved
most—touches the same nerve as Peter’s agony two thousand years ago, when he
had to hear the sound of the rooster. When Peter denied the Jesus he so deeply
loved—three times saying, “I do not know Him”—he was not merely denying Jesus.
In truth, he was denying the deepest foundation of his own being.
The
Rooster’s Cry: A Signal of Spiritual Bankruptcy
Scripture
does not conceal Peter’s devastating failure; it records it in stark detail.
Why did the Gospels preserve the shame of the leading disciple so thoroughly?
In
his preaching, Pastor David Jang sheds light on this event not as a simple
moral lapse, but as a soteriological moment—one that reveals the complete
collapse of human will and the total intervention of God’s
grace.
We
often deceive ourselves into thinking we can sustain faith by our own
convictions and willpower. Yet Pastor David Jang, citing Jesus’ words—“Satan
has demanded to sift you like wheat” (Luke 22:31)—reminds us that Peter’s
failure took place on the fierce front lines of spiritual warfare. Human
courage of the flesh, or emotional fervor, can never overcome the terror of
death and Satan’s accusations. Peter’s downfall proves this with painful
clarity.
When
the rooster crowed twice, Peter finally understood: he was utterly
powerless—unable to save himself, unable to protect the Lord—completely
helpless.
A
Gaze Met in the Abyss, and Then Bitter Weeping
But
the greatness of the gospel begins precisely at that place of helplessness.
Luke records that immediately after Peter completed his third denial, “the Lord
turned and looked at Peter” (Luke 22:61).
That
split-second meeting of eyes—was not a cold, condemning stare toward a traitor.
It was the sorrowful, compassionate gaze of love—like the Jesus Endo portrays,
the One who says He came to be stepped on.
Pastor
David Jang focuses here on Peter’s “weeping.” When Peter went out and wept
bitterly, it was not mere regret. It was a holy surrender—the
shattering of an idol called self-confidence, and a confession that without the
Lord’s grace he could not stand for even a moment.
Failure
is painful. But if that failure keeps us before the Lord’s gaze, it is no
longer a curse. For a broken and contrite heart is the holiest sanctuary where
God chooses to dwell.
Treasure
in a Cracked Jar: The Calling of Restoration
Amazingly,
Peter—who passed through this night of crushing failure—reappears as a
completely different man. In Acts, he is no longer the coward trembling before
a servant girl’s questions. Before the Sanhedrin, he roars with boldness:
“There is salvation in no one else.”
How
was such a transformation possible?
According
to Pastor David Jang’s theological insight, this courage did not come from
Peter’s strength, but from the confidence of one who has been forgiven. He had
fallen to the very bottom—yet he discovered that beneath even that bottom was a
love deeper still, holding him up. And so fear lost its grip.
Jesus’
charge—“And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers”—means that
only one who has truly failed can offer the comfort and power of restoration.
Thus Peter was born as a wounded healer.
Even
Now, the Rooster Is Crowing
Even
today, we too stand in countless “courtyards of Peter.” How often, under the
excuse of social success, reputation, or mere survival, do we live as though we
do not know the Lord?
Yet
Pastor David Jang emphasizes that our failures and stumblings are never “the
end.” The rooster’s cry is not a trumpet of judgment, but a gracious
alarm—calling us to wake from the sleep of a false self and greet the dawn.
Peter’s
denial asks us: “Is your faith standing on your own will, or on the Lord’s
prayer?” Even when we fail and fall, the Lord is praying for us.
So
do not fear failure. In the darkest night—when the rooster crows—that is
precisely when the real dawn is finally on its way.
Before the mystery of the gospel that even uses our weakness, today we must again gather ourselves and meet the Lord’s gaze. In that tear-soaked moment of eye contact, there is strength to rise again.
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