“Aren’t You One of His Disciples?” A Good Friday Question

Good Friday is one of the most significant days in the life of the church—the day we commemorate the death of Jesus Christ.

It is the day when the journey that began with the wonder of the Incarnation, which we celebrate during Advent and Christmas, reaches its darkest valley.

It is a day that confronts us with a troubling reality: a moment when the One who came as the light of the world seemed, for a moment, to be overcome by darkness.

When the One proclaimed as Messiah seemed powerless before the very hands of those he came to save.

On this day, we are reminded that the powers of sin, injustice, violence, and fear gathered themselves against the Son of God.

The One who healed the sick;
The One who welcomed the outcast;
The One who declared freedom for the oppressed;
The One who proclaimed the kingdom of God—
Now stands bound, humiliated, and condemned.

Yet perhaps one of the most painful dimensions of this day is not simply the hostility of Jesus’ enemies, but the failure of his friends.

So, today, while we remember how Jesus died to save us, I would like us to bring ourselves into the tragic story of that day and focus on one searching question that it confronts us with: Aren’t You One of His Disciples?

Jesus was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane. Soldiers and officials arrived with torches and weapons. In the confusion and fear of that moment, the disciples fled.

Those who had walked with Jesus for three years.
Those who had witnessed his miracles.
Those who had heard his teachings.

Those who had shared a meal with him just a while ago.

In the hour when he most needed their presence, he stood alone.

But Peter didn’t run far. He lingered nearby. He had even drawn his sword in defence of his Jesus during the arrest.

“Yet courage in the garden does not necessarily translate into courage in the courtyard.“

So, Peter now follows at a distance into the high priest’s courtyard, having been let in through another disciple’s connection (John 18:15).

It is late at night. The air is cold. Servants and guards have gathered around a charcoal fire to keep warm.

Peter quietly joins them.

He is close enough to see what is happening to Jesus inside, but far enough away to avoid being noticed—or so he hopes.

And then it happens.

A servant girl looks at him carefully and asks a simple question:

“Aren’t you also one of this man’s disciples?” (John 18:17)

There is no threat of violence in her voice. She is not a soldier or an authority figure. She is simply a servant girl.

Yet, Peter responds with three words that echo painfully till this day:

“I am not.”

A little later, someone else in the courtyard looks at Peter and says:

“You are not also one of his disciples, are you?”

Again, Peter denies it.

Then a third person speaks up—someone who had been in the garden during the arrest:

“Didn’t I see you with him in the garden?”

Now, the tension is rising. Recognition is getting closer. The truth is pressing in.

But Peter denies it once more—this time with curses and oaths, as Matthew and Mark record (Matt. 26:74; Mark 14:71).

Three times Peter is asked.
Three times he denies.

And with the third denial, the rooster crows.

In Luke’s Gospel, we are told that at that moment Jesus turned and looked at Peter (Luke 22:61).

Imagine that moment.

Across the courtyard, while facing accusation and hostility, the eyes of Jesus meet the eyes of the disciple who had just denied him.

Peter remembers what Jesus had told him earlier that evening:

“Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times” (John 13:38).

There is no doubt—he feels broken. He has denied his Master. But most importantly, he has denied himself by his very act.

Just hours earlier, he had declared with great confidence:

“Lord, I will lay down my life for you” (John 13:37).

Yet now, in the moment when loyalty is tested, he denies ever knowing Jesus.

We need to pause here and ponder awhile.

Why do these people keep asking Peter the same question?

Why won’t they just let him be?

On the surface, the question seems casual. But in the context of Jesus’ arrest and trial, it carries weight.

Are they intent on exposing him publicly, perhaps to ridicule him? Will they condemn him together with his Master?

We may not be certain of their motives. Yet, it is most likely that Peter quickly processes it as leading to a precarious end if he admits being a disciple of Jesus. It could mean arrest, humiliation, perhaps even death.

He suddenly realizes that discipleship might cost him something.

Fear takes hold. And, as is familiar to us, fear often gives birth to denial.

So Peter answers with those three words:

“I am not.”

(Other accounts say he responded, “I do not know him.”)

There is something revealing about what is happening in this moment.

Inside the house, Jesus is being interrogated by the high priest.
Outside in the courtyard, Peter is being questioned by servants and bystanders.

Jesus is asked about his teaching and identity—and he answers truthfully, even though he knows it will cost him his life.

Peter is asked about his relationship and loyalty—and he denies everything, in order to preserve his life.

Imagine the contrast.

Jesus stands firm in his witness.
Peter retreats in fear.

And so the question, “Aren’t you one of his disciples?” therefore, becomes far more than casual curiosity. It is:

“A question about identity, a test of loyalty, and a trial of courage in discipleship.”

Jesus once said:

“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24).

Notice the irony here.

Peter was unwilling to deny himself, so he denied Jesus.

Yet true discipleship calls us to the opposite.

To deny ourselves in order to remain faithful to Christ.

For us, too, the question, then, is not merely about religious affiliation. It is equally about identity and commitment. It asks whether we truly belong to the One we claim to follow.

And Good Friday presses that question upon us with particular urgency.

Because the One whom Peter denied is the One whom the prophet Isaiah described centuries earlier:

“He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3).

The prophet tells us that the Servant who bears the sins of the world would be rejected not only by enemies but also abandoned by many, including friends and disciples.

Good Friday shows us the fulfillment of that prophecy.

The Servant is rejected by the authorities.
But he is also abandoned by those closest to him.

Yet Good Friday does not leave us merely with Peter’s failure.

It redirects our attention back to Jesus.

While Peter denies, Jesus remains faithful.
While Peter falters, Jesus stands firm.
While Peter distances himself, Jesus moves steadily toward the cross.

The author of Hebrews reminds us that Christ offered himself as the once-for-all sacrifice for sin. Through his suffering, he established a new covenant. Through his death, he opened a new and living way for us to approach God.

This is why we are urged:

“To hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering” (Hebrews 10:23).

In other words,

“Discipleship means refusing to deny the One who did not deny us.“

And that makes Peter’s denial even more tragic.

But it also makes it profoundly human.

But before we judge Peter too harshly—or even too quickly—we must acknowledge something uncomfortably important:

Peter’s denial is not simply the story of one disciple’s failure. It is a mirror held up before every follower of Christ.

Because if we are honest, we recognize ourselves in Peter’s shoes. We recognize those moments when silence feels safer than witness—when distance feels easier than discipleship.

And so the question comes to us too:

“Aren’t you one of his disciples?”

In many parts of the world today, Christians still face the cost of discipleship in very direct ways. In Nigeria, particularly in the northern regions, Muslim jihadists destroy churches, attack worshipers, sack communities, abduct schoolchildren, and kill thousands for their faith in Christ. (We will never forget Leah Sharibu, Deborah Samuel, and the multitude who have paid the ultimate price of martyrdom.)

But even in places like Canada, where we enjoy religious freedom, the question still comes.

It may not come from servants in a courtyard. It may not come in the context of our Lord’s trial. Certainly not in the context of religious persecution.

But it still comes—in many other ways—every day.

It comes when ideologies in our culture challenge the meaning and relevance of the Christian faith.

It comes when we are required to stand for truth, justice, compassion, and mercy in a world that often rewards the opposite.

It comes when we encounter those who lack food, shelter, or dignity—the very people Jesus speaks about in Matthew 25—and we must decide whether our faith will remain words or become action.

It comes when faith becomes inconvenient and standing with Christ might cost us reputation, comfort, or approval.

At such moments, the world is asking the same question Peter faced:

“Aren’t you one of his disciples?”

And the way we answer matters.

Because discipleship is not simply about what we say in worship, but about how we live when the questions come.

Good Friday, therefore, reminds us that following Christ is not a path of convenience. It is a path that passes through suffering, sacrifice, and the cross—as Jesus identifies himself with the suffering of the world.

This means that the suffering of Christ is not only a historical event. It continually confronts us in the suffering of our neighbours.

Yet it is also the path that leads to redemption and hope.

But there is one more truth we must remember:

Peter’s story does not end with denial.

After the resurrection, Jesus restores him.

Beside another charcoal fire, Jesus asks Peter three times:

“Do you love me?”

Three times, Peter answers in the affirmative.
Three times, Jesus commissions him.

The disciple who once denied becomes a leader of the early church and a courageous witness to the cross and resurrection of Jesus.

There is a fascinating story about Peter’s death. I cannot attest to its absolute historical veracity, but I also have no reason to dismiss it as mere legend.

Church tradition holds that Peter was later martyred for his faith. He was crucified—but upside down, at his own request—because he judged himself unworthy to die in the exact same manner as Jesus, his Lord.

This is the grace of the cross.

“The cross does not merely expose human failure. It also redeems it.“

But on Good Friday, we pause here—in the courtyard, beside the fire, in the moment of decision, when Christ, in love, courageously embraces the cross.

And we listen again to that searching question:

“Aren’t you one of his disciples?”

Dear friends, on this Good Friday, I invite us to stand in that courtyard for a moment—perhaps even to face Calvary.

To hear the question again.

And to answer it honestly.

Not with fear or hesitation.
But with the quiet courage of faith.

Because the One who was bound for us…
The One who was mocked for us…
The One who went to the cross for us…
Is worthy of nothing less than our faithful witness.

So when the world asks, “Aren’t you one of his disciples?”

May we remember the Cross

May we remember this day

And with conviction, with compassion, and with courage, may our lives answer clearly:

Yes, I am.

Amen.

“The suffering of Christ continues to confront us in the suffering of our neighbours.“

(This is the full text of the sermon I preached on Good Friday, April 3, 2026, at St Andrew’s Presbyterian Church, Saskatoon, SK, Canada)