When I was conversing with colleagues earlier this week about the theme of today’s service, I was reminded of an idiom that we have in the English language: for something to be a “Persian flaw”. Have any of you heard this idiom before? Right… okay. A couple of you. It’s one that isn’t as common nowadays as it used to be, but essentially, it means a “deliberate mistake”. Its origin comes from the fact that weavers of Persians rugs (in Iran) would (and still) put intentional little imperfections into their rugs because of the belief that only God is perfect, therefore, the rugs shouldn’t be absolutely perfect. Indeed, one of the key ways to identify counterfeit Persian rugs (according to the experts) is if they are too perfect!
We humans often try to be as perfect as possible; to be the perfect student at school so that we can get the highest marks in class, or be the perfect employee at work so that we can get that bonus at the end of the year (or perhaps that promotion). But we can’t be perfect, can we? Inevitably, we’re going to make a mistake, because we’re human! Even those who intimately knew Jesus during His earthly ministry (like the 12 apostles) still made mistakes!
Think of Simon Peter. As we read a variant of in all four of the Gospel accounts, at the Last Supper, ‘Peter spoke up and said to Jesus, “I will never leave you, even though all the rest do!” Jesus said [in response] to Peter, “I tell you that before the rooster crows tonight, you will say three times that you do not know me.” [And] Peter answered, “I will never say that, even if I have to die with you!”’
I imagine a lot of us will know what comes next in this story, though… Jesus (of course) was proved to be right.
Later that evening, when Jesus is being taken into custody by the authorities, Peter follows behind at a distance, but is recognised by various different people three times, thus (ultimately) leading to him denying knowing Jesus three times and the rooster letting out is its fateful crow—a normally cheerful noise which (this time) signifies Peter’s heartbreaking (and very human) mistake.
However, this is not the end of Peter’s story. After Jesus' death on the cross and eventual resurrection, He appears to Peter (and some of the other disciples) at the Sea of Galilee, and together, they share a breakfast of fish and bread on the beach!
Just imagine you are Peter in this moment! What are you feeling? Have you forgiven yourself for denying that you knew Jesus to other people as He was being taken away by the authorities? Quite possibly not, and you very well may have been beating yourself up for it, as well as grieving His truly awful and painful death. But now, He’s here, in front of you, cooking you breakfast, and telling you to go out and feed His sheep—essentially to be a key mouth piece in and for the early Christian church!
If you are anything like me, you find it very, very, very difficult to forgive yourself when you think you’ve possibly made a mistake. I often find myself still ruminating back on interactions I had several hours (sometimes even several days) after they’ve happened, trying to pick apart if I possibly said something (or if I used an intonation of voice) that now means the other person is upset with me. But one of the key things that the story of Peter’s Denial and ultimate Redemption highlights is that if Peter could deny knowing Jesus three times and still be made “the rock” of the newly established Christian church by Jesus, then God has the ability to love, accept, and forgive me as the imperfect human that I am.
What is sitting on your heart right now that you are struggling to forgive yourself for? Are you perhaps feeling guilty for leaving a school or work assignment too late and (thus) turning in something of a quality you’re not proud of? Are you perhaps feeling guilty for something that came out of your mouth that was more critical (or judgemental) of someone then it should have been? Know that I’m saying this as much to myself as I am saying it to all of you right now, but God has long since already forgiven you. Indeed, he’s gently and lovingly holding on to your sense of self forgiveness until you're ready to clasp hold of it yourself (…myself).
So, if Persian rugs (the handmade works of art that they are) can be so beautiful yet technically imperfect, there is no reason that this can’t be the same for humans, since, in reality, isn’t each of us a handmade work of art stitched together by the hands of our Creator?
