The Rock Was Still Becoming a Rock

A reflection on Matthew 16:13-20 for the 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A.

Peter’s confession in today’s Gospel is magnificent: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

And then Jesus does something astonishing. He entrusts Peter with the keys. He calls him the rock on which he will build his Church.

I find that both beautiful and mildly alarming.

Because this is Peter.

Peter, who will misunderstand Jesus. Peter, who will argue with him. Peter, who will promise heroic loyalty and then deny him three times before breakfast. If I were assembling a leadership team, I might have suggested a little more screening.

But Jesus already knows all of this.

That is the part that gets me.

He does not call Peter because Peter has finally become dependable, polished, and spiritually mature. He calls him while he is still becoming those things. Jesus sees the faith in Peter, but he also sees the fear, the impulsiveness, the pride, and the weakness that will later surface.

And still he says, “You are Peter.”

I need that reminder because I am very good at postponing my usefulness to God.

I can always identify one more thing that should probably be fixed first. I should be more patient. More disciplined in prayer. Less distracted. Less easily irritated. More trusting. More generous. Surely God would be better served by the improved future version of me.

Apparently, God is willing to work with the current model.

That does not mean growth is optional. Peter has a great deal of conversion ahead of him. He will be corrected, humbled, forgiven, and restored. His failures matter. But they do not erase his calling.

Sometimes I think I have confused holiness with finally getting myself under control.

Peter’s story offers something more hopeful. Holiness seems to look much more like continuing to let Jesus form us. It is not never falling. It is allowing grace to meet us when we do.

That can be harder than it sounds.

I would much rather offer God my strengths. I am less enthusiastic about handing over the places where I am insecure, defensive, impatient, or afraid. Those are the parts I would prefer to tidy up privately and present later.

But Jesus does not wait outside while Peter repairs himself.

He stays with him.

He lets Peter fail without deciding that Peter is a failure.

And eventually, after the denial and the bitter tears, Jesus will meet him again beside the sea. He will not pretend nothing happened. He will ask Peter three times, “Do you love me?” And then he will give him work to do.

“Feed my sheep.”

That scene may be one of the most encouraging things in Scripture for me. Peter’s failure becomes part of his formation. The man entrusted with caring for Christ’s flock will know what it is like to need mercy desperately.

Maybe that is part of why God uses imperfect people.

Our weakness can teach us gentleness. Our failures can make us less impressed with ourselves and more patient with others. Our need for mercy can make us better at giving it.

Jesus did not build his Church on a flawless man.

He built it on someone who loved him sincerely, failed him painfully, received forgiveness, and kept following.

The rock was still becoming a rock.

And perhaps one of the graces of discipleship is realizing that God is not waiting for us to be finished either.