My legs would barely carry me up the steps to the church door. I had no desire to be there, and I wondered why I persisted in going. I knew the questions would come soon enough and each time they seemed more painful than the time before.

“Heard anything yet?”

“Had any interviews yet?”

Or even, “Hey preacher man, how you doing?”

It had been over a year since I had completed seminary, and I had not had one single interview. No one had been interested in me, and I had not even been able to get a reason out of anyone. The prospects of finding a ministry position seemed all but impossible a year later. Now it would be ridiculous for me to get a ministry job anyway, because I hated church. I was not praying anymore. I had nothing to say to God and he apparently had nothing to say to me.

The questions bothered me, even though I realized people meant well. I had questions of my own too, and they haunted me continually as I wondered why God had called me and then rejected me. Why was I not good enough to be used? Why had He done this to me?

I had trained for ministry. I told myself day by day that being back in the secular work world was a ministry, and what I was doing was just as valuable as what the pastors I had studied with were doing. Even though I could speak the words, I never could bring myself to believe that it was true.

One Sunday in church, as I sat alone waiting impatiently for the service to be over, I heard the pastor talking about Peter’s denial of Christ. As I turned to the passage, the words jumped out at me, and the more I read the account, the more I identified with Peter.

Understanding what Peter went through during the arrest and crucifixion of Jesus helped me to see that it was necessary to give up my own agenda. Peter and the disciples expected Jesus to usher in the Messianic kingdom immediately, and they were crushed when he was arrested and killed. I too had felt crushed by feeling rejection after finishing seminary. I had become so angry at God that we were no longer on speaking terms, but when I was able to bury my own agenda and trust God unconditionally, our fellowship returned.

Sure, I had been called to ministry, but God had other plans. His plan was not for me to be in a traditional role of ministry, and until I was willing to come to grips with that, I would have no peace with God. I would have no ministry opportunities either. God allowed me to be angry and uncooperative as long as I liked, but I had to be willing to trust Him before he could use me.

The change was more one of attitude, but it did affect how I related to the world and God. Just as Peter had to learn to trust God in a completely new way, I did as well. I had to decide that I would trust God whether He used me in a way that I thought he should or not. Giving up one’s agenda, or plan, is a difficult thing, but until we do, we cannot have the peace that passes understanding.

The idea of surrendering one’s plans sounds spiritual, but really, it is very practical. It involves being willing to accept whatever position the Lord puts us in, whether we particularly care for the situation or not. Burying our agenda involves laying our plans at His feet in prayer, and accepting whatever the Lord does with those plans.

One very practical change has been my attitude toward work. Instead of resenting being there, and being a negative, stressed person, I have learned to accept the job as where God wants me to be now. I do not love the job, it is after all, just a job, but I do see it as an assignment from God. It is where He has placed me. This has resulted in me being a much calmer person, a person that God can use to reach other workers in the secular environment. Since the change of attitude, I have had many more opportunities to minister to people than I did when I carried a chip on my shoulder.

When Jesus restored Peter after the denial, he said to him the same thing three times, which was basically, “take care of my sheep,” (John 12:15-21). I felt Jesus saying the same thing to me as I struggled with holding on to my agenda. As long as I insisted on doing things my way, I was tending my sheep and not the Lord’s. Peter had to give up his idea of a Messianic kingdom, so that he could be used to proclaim the risen Lord.

I had to abandon my own plans for ministry, and to trust God to work and use me in the way He desires. Since the attitude change, I have seen myself used much more by the Lord in ways I would not have imagined. I may never even teach in a church again, and I am fairly certain that I will never preach, but I have learned to trust the Lord to work out His agenda in me, and that in itself is very comforting. I am also able to share the gospel in a meaningful way with people who would otherwise never even consider attending a church service.

As I studied the passage in John that describes Peter’s denial (John chapter 18), I began to realize that perhaps Peter may not have denied Christ out of fear, but out of anger. It was that anger that I related to, and even admitting that I was mad at God was difficult.

As I changed my attitude from looking at my own agenda, to patiently waiting for the Lord to work out His purpose in my life, I felt the anger dissipate.

Peter and I both had agendas. Peter’s agenda was playing a key role in the Messianic kingdom that he was sure Jesus was going to begin. The night before the denial, he swore to Jesus that he was willing to lay down his life for the Lord, (John 13:37). When Jesus was arrested, Peter drew his sword to fight (John 18:10) and cut off a servant’s ear. These were not the actions of a man who was afraid.

But when he saw his dreams being crushed, and he saw the Lord not even letting him fight, he may have never spoken more honest words when he said “I don’t know him.”

It was as though all of a sudden Jesus was preventing Peter from doing the very thing that Peter was convinced the Lord wanted done. I felt the same way a year after finishing seminary. We both had the rug pulled from under our feet.

He had expected Jesus to lead the revolt against Rome, and if cutting off a Roman ear would start it, then so much the better. I had expected the Lord to place me in a ministry setting where there would be good work and a good harvest.

I felt the frustration that I imagined Peter felt when he was rebuked for defending his master. It must have cut him to the heart when Jesus restored the ear. Then to see his master offer no resistance and to be arrested like a common criminal, it is no wonder that Peter realized he did not know Jesus. Had he been wrong about everything?

I too wondered if I had been wrong about everything. I had been very enthusiastic for the things of God, and for the church. I had jumped at the chance to go to Seminary, and was convinced that I was called to ministry. My concept of ministry was a role of a traditional pastor, or maybe even a missionary in some far off land. My concept did not involve returning to the same type job I held before going to seminary.

Also like Peter, I had seen God act. I knew God could do anything. Just as Peter knew at Jesus’ word a host of angels would strike down the Roman army, I too knew that God could open any door. So why had it not happened?

It had not happened because God had other ideas.

It had not been long since Peter had declared Jesus to be the son of the living God, and only a month or so later, his faith is shaken to the core. All he can say is “I don’t know him.” There may have even been a little contempt in his voice as he spoke the words.

Being arrested, beaten and killed was not what the Messiah was supposed to do.

When the servant girl linked him to Jesus, he said he did not know the man. Peter had never spoken more honestly. There were times I felt like saying the same thing when questions arose as to what I was doing with a seminary education. “I don’t know,” was as good of an answer as I could find.

This girl that identified Peter was a servant at the high priest’s house. She knew John and his family, and it is likely she knew Peter as well. She was not exposing him.

The other people who identified Peter were also not a threat. Peter was part of the inner circle and everyone knew that. Peter was wanted for no crime. When people tried to talk to him, all he could say was, he did not know him.

It was just a frustrated reaction to the realization that he did not have a clue what was going on, and he did not know Jesus as well as he thought.

The idea of Jesus dying on a cross for the remission of sins, and rising again on the third day as a victory over sin, was not even something that Peter had ever considered.

“I don’t know him,” was all Peter could think.

After the third denial, and making eye contact with Jesus, Peter went away weeping bitterly. He must have felt strange when he recalled Jesus’ prediction of the denials. This may have just added to the anger, the confusion, and to the realization that he did not know Jesus.

Later, when Peter had heard Jesus had risen, he raced John to the tomb. By this time, he knew he did not know what was going on, but if he could find Jesus, maybe he could get some answers.

It was the same with me. People who go to seminary work in churches don’t they? Was this not the call? Like Peter, all I could think that Sunday in church was, “I don’t know him.”

Every time someone asked my why I was not in ministry, I wanted to die inside. I could not explain why I had never worked in a church because I had not a clue.

Others tried to console me by pointing to the positive things I was doing.

“It is just as good,” these well meaning friends assured me.

Well I had not signed on to be “just as good.” So like Peter, I was angry, hurt and disappointed. Just as Peter could not grasp that there would be no revolution, I just could not grasp the idea of not being in a traditional ministry.

When I had felt called, I did not have to be asked twice. I was eager. I went to seminary with tremendous enthusiasm. I worked two jobs, and worked in the church free, just to have the opportunity to study 10 hours a day.

Now, after it was done, like Peter, I wondered why I had even bothered. Even my secular job was of lower prestige than the one I had before going to seminary.

Isn’t God the one who opens doors? Why had he slammed it in my face?

So like Peter, all I could say was, “I don’t know him.”

The answer lie not in making great efforts or finding a way to be more spiritual, but in being willing to sit at his feet until the Lord chooses to use me for his purposes