TLDR: Peter’s denial of Jesus shows how sin wounds us and leads to trauma. His shame drove him back into old patterns, a vivid example of how unhealed wounds drag us backward. But Jesus’ restoration of Peter reminds us that while trauma shapes our responses, we still bear responsibility: grace always involves a choice. The good news is that Jesus meets us in our collapse, offering healing, forgiveness, and a new future.
It’s one of the most compelling subplots of the crucifixion narrative: Peter’s denial of Jesus.
Only hours earlier, Jesus, Peter, and the other disciples had gathered for the Last Supper. In that intimate moment, Jesus warned:
“Simon, Simon, listen! Satan has demanded to sift all of you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your own faith may not fail; and you, when once you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”
— Luke 22:31–32 (NRSV)
Peter responded with bravado:
“Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death!”
— Luke 22:33 (NRSV)
But Jesus answered,
“I tell you, Peter, the cock will not crow this day, until you have denied three times that you know me.”
— Luke 22:34 (NRSV)
And we know what happened next. Three denials.
“Woman, I do not know him.” (v. 57)
“Man, I am not.” (v. 58)
“Man, I do not know what you are talking about.” (v. 60)
Then comes the haunting moment:
“The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: ‘Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.’ And he went outside and wept bitterly.”
— Luke 22:61–62
Peter, who had just professed undying loyalty, collapses in fear. He’s out of his element— a Galilean fisherman in the heart of Jerusalem, his accent and mannerisms marking him as an outsider. Surrounded by city dwellers who can immediately tell he doesn’t belong, his insecurity deepens. And so he does what many of us do when cornered: he lies, he denies, he hides.
Trauma and Regression
I recently came across this line from Bill and Kristi Gaultiere in Deeply Loved:
“Trauma and emotional wounds tend to self-perpetuate if they're not comforted and healed… As an adult, violations and emotional upsets may take you back [to an] immature identity, and regress to the insecure attachment... For instance, after denying… Jesus and experiencing the trauma of seeing [the crucifixion]… Peter went back to fishing and reverted to his old self, collapsing in shame and believing that he could never be a rock for Jesus.”
— Deeply Loved, p. 172
I’d never thought of Peter’s return to fishing as a trauma response, but it makes sense:
“Simon Peter, Thomas (also known as Didymus), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together. ‘I’m going out to fish,’ Simon Peter told them, and they said, ‘We’ll go with you.’ So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.”
— John 21:2–3
Trauma drags us back into old identities. What felt safe before becomes our fallback — the familiar patterns, the places where we feel competent, even if they no longer serve us well. For Peter, that meant returning to nets and boats, slipping back into the life he once knew rather than facing the uncertainty of what to do next, even if Jesus had said multiple times he would be killed then rise again (see Matthew 16:21; Mark 8:31; Luke 9:22).
Sin, Trauma, and Accountability
This got me thinking: what exactly is sin? Peter’s denials were certainly sinful—but his collapse afterward, his shame, his return to fishing—I’m not sure I’d call those sin. Bill and Kristi Gaultiere describe these behaviors as trauma responses, and I’m working with that understanding as a starting point for reflection.
But if everything is just trauma, then we’re never really responsible for anything. We’re simply victims, never accountable. And yet Scripture insists on both: yes, we bear the consequences of others’ sin, but we also choose how we respond.
Moses put it plainly to Israel:
I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live. — Deuteronomy 30:19
Joshua echoed the same challenge:
Choose this day whom you will serve. — Joshua 24:15
James, centuries later, urged believers to
submit yourselves to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. — James 4:7–8
Each underscores that, even in the midst of brokenness, God places before us the responsibility and grace to respond.
Jesus puts it starkly:
“Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.”
— Matthew 7:13–14 (NRSV)
The “narrow way” of healing and grace is hard, but essential. Neuroscience even affirms this — our brains form ruts and pathways that make destructive patterns easier to repeat. Yet neuroplasticity reminds us that change is possible. Theologically, that sounds a lot like Arminianism: humans can respond to God’s grace. This also highlights the distinction from Calvinism’s more rigid view of total depravity, where every action is tainted beyond repair and salvation is entirely predetermined. I see neuroplasticity as a modern analogy—though our brains may be trained into destructive ruts, change is possible, and grace gives us the freedom to walk a new path.
Grace Always Involves a Choice
For Peter, it looked like this:
“Again Jesus said, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ He answered, ‘Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.’ Jesus said, ‘Take care of my sheep.’ The third time he said to him, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ He said, ‘Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said, ‘Feed my sheep.’”
— John 21:16–17
Peter could have stayed in shame. But he chose grace. To refuse would have been another kind of sin.
Paul warns of what happens when we continually reject grace:
“Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts… They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator—who is forever praised. Amen.”
— Romans 1:24–25
And Pharaoh’s hardening of heart is another witness:
“But the Lord hardened Pharaoh’s heart, and he would not listen to Moses and Aaron, just as the Lord had said to Moses.”
— Exodus 9:12
Perhaps Scripture is describing what we now call brain science: repeated choices create hardened patterns. Refusing grace long enough makes it harder to say yes at all.
The Christian Response
So what’s left for us? Paul says it best:
“My friends, if anyone is detected in a transgression, you who have received the Spirit should restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness. Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”
— Galatians 6:1–2 (NRSV)
What people need in these moments is not condemnation but empathy. Healing begins when we can name our failures without being crushed by judgment.
But empathy doesn’t erase responsibility. Grace always involves a choice. And the good news is this: Jesus never abandons us in our collapse. He restores us to identity and vocation — the one who denies can still become the one called to feed the flock.
That’s forgiveness. Not erasing the sin, but transforming the trauma into a new future.