Including Peter
Manasseh x Anna Golden
“Now go and tell his disciples, including Peter, that Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you before he died.”
Mark 16:7 (New Living Translation)
When God prepared the way for me to walk into calling, all of the reasons why it couldn’t and shouldn’t be me rushed ahead of my feet. The Holy Spirit has graced me with intimacy and wisdom that flourishes in my prayer closet, where it’s just me, Him, and maybe a 3-hour prophetic instrumental filling the atmosphere. No eyes but the Father’s. No opinions but that of Jesus, whose opinions are not opinions at all. His understanding is truth and it’s laced with love. I write freely in the Secret Place. I speak eloquently in the Secret Place. I pursue confidently in the Secret Place. But in the past, there’s been difficulty in bringing what’s been deposited in the Secret Place beyond it.
I’m a first-generation eldest daughter in a West Indian household. Perfection is the bare minimum. I didn’t realize how much that culture impacted me until I started making mistakes. Not little mistakes like oversalting a dish meant to feed the entire family or getting a “B” on a final exam. I mean real mistakes.
Not only am I a first-generation eldest daughter in a West Indian household but I’m a first-generation eldest daughter in a CHRISTIAN West Indian household. My dad is a deacon turned pastor and my mom is the head of nearly every church ministry she can be head of. I was raised under the precepts of God’s word. Though the church I grew up in missed quite a few marks, the Bible was presented nonetheless. So, I knew the basics. Basic knowledge brought forth conviction. But I didn’t love God enough to value His conviction. That made it easy to have pre-marital sex as often as I did. That made it easy to manipulate as often as I did. That made it easy to idolize toxic relationships as often as I did. That made it easy to gossip as often as I did. It was easy to be unforgiving, to be uncompassionate, to be self-serving.
Because I didn’t love God enough, I didn’t know my identity in Him as a daughter. My lack of love for Him was a direct symptom of not knowing Him well enough. And because I didn’t know Him well enough, I didn’t know that He would continue to pursue me in my rebellion against Him. It’s rebellion because I knew better. But I would still show up at church and present a facade of faith— a reality that would have left me before Jesus crying out, “Lord, Lord,” out of familiarity instead of relationship. A false cry of endearment that was bound to be met with, “Depart from Me, I never knew you.”
In 2020, I recommitted to the Father, vowing to fall in love with Him for myself and not confuse routine with relationship. During this time, He deposited Gracefully Jenny; proving He set His sights on me before I was in my mother’s womb and intentionally designed me to be His fully. I was fearful, but not because I believed myself to be inadequate. I was fearful because the content He had given me to create would be full of Him and those who knew my past wouldn’t accept anything poured out from a vessel so broken. Those people mattered to me because those people would be my immediate audience.
God doesn’t first call to the nations, He first calls to your backyard.
My backyard was a thousand Instagram followers, a large fraction of whom knew my fornication but not my vow of purity.
They knew my manipulation but not my vow to truth.
They knew of the toxic relationships I had been in but not of my vow to be liberated from toxic cycles.
They heard me gossip, they’ve seen me hold grudges, they’ve seen me act out of hatred, they knew me to be selfish.
They knew my rebellion but not my surrender.
I surrendered at a time when everyone was in isolation. So, not only were they unable to see the growth of the fruit of the Holy Spirit in my life but everyone was finding God. We were in a pandemic unprecedented for our generation.
Were her actions genuine or was it just the same facade presented differently?
Though I was obedient to the call of God and launched Gracefully Jenny, there was an ongoing battle in my mind. Over time, my perception of reality became my reality. I had no idea what anyone was thinking of me. These thoughts and questions were assumptions I esteemed above God’s truth and would eventually barricade promise.
This warped understanding was birthed from feeling as though I needed to be perfect to be called. If I rejected God and His ways so many times, who am I to walk into public ministry? I slipped into an inferiority complex stemming from condemnation instead of humility. I accepted the notion that I wasn’t “good enough” and used that as an excuse. I rekindled two very toxic relationships, one after the other. These men became my source. This source would (obviously) run out, leaving me to return to the one true Source. I again recommitted and He relocated me. The distance brought healing, strength, renewed intimacy, greater Godly community, and accountability— an unparalleled experience I could only coin as the milk and honey of Canaan.
This recommitment was unlike the other because it wasn’t birthed out of boredom or necessity. It was birthed from deep reverence and desperation.
I was different because who I knew myself to be no longer existed.
I fully died and was reborn to carry a cross; prepared and willing to be crucified at a moment’s notice. But I still had a thorn in my side— my identity as a first-generation eldest daughter in a Christian West Indian household.
This identity made it difficult to release perfection. I knew this and the enemy did too. As a result, he would constantly remind me of my shortcomings and cause me to believe they made God love me less. I would often leave warfare unscathed. I wasn’t dodging flaming arrows because I couldn’t. Instead, the Holy Spirit would stand before me and fight for me.
One day in 2023, He stepped aside and allowed me to get hit.
A flaming arrow in the form of church conflict came hurling at me. In hindsight, the Holy Spirit saw an arrow that would nail me to the cross. But at the time, all I saw was a flaming arrow.
I defended myself horribly.
A situation with a fellow brother in Christ left me confused and hurt. Instead of defending myself in prayer, I defended myself through venting sessions that aired too close to gossip. Often, it was gossip. I defended myself through unforgiveness— holding a grudge over a situation I was only able to discern through the lens of my wound. The intensity of damage from the wound informed my decisions. Instead of turning to the Holy Spirit, who stepped aside but was still beside me, I ran to comfort. Comfort was found on the other side of the battlefield— the enemy’s side. I found comfort in sitting in unforgiveness. I found comfort in releasing the responsibility of being a peacemaker. I found comfort in being quick to anger and quick to speak. I found comfort in accepting the enemy’s words over that person instead of taking up the true perspective of the Father. The Holy Spirit, in His grace, would often cross territory to course-correct me, leading me to do and say things that went against my flesh and emotions but were in accordance with His will. I eventually fully stood with Him, choosing forgiveness for that person and repenting for my actions.
However, the familiar voice of condemnation reared its ugly head causing me to spiral and impacting how present I could be in my relationship with God and others. I would replay it all in my mind constantly. How terribly I ducked from the flaming arrow, how carelessly I pulled it out, how negligently I cared for the wound, how awfully I allowed the wound to heal. Clearly, I haven’t grown. Clearly, my past self still guides my decisions. I thought I was Christ-like until I had to be Christ-like.
These thoughts became consuming until one day I finally reached out to a spiritual elder who knew the situation well. I explained to him the condemnation I had been up against and he told me something that has stuck with me:
“You’ve forgiven them. You’ve repented and accepted God’s forgiveness. But to experience freedom, you have to forgive yourself.”
We spent some time declaring truth to combat the condemnation and I began working on forgiving myself. After several months, I thought I did. Until God asked me to relaunch Gracefully Jenny.
Again, I was called to my immediate audience— people who likely had their own opinions of the situation that could influence their reception of the content I would produce. Before relaunching, I consistently prayed to be confident in my calling. Then one day, as I was reading Mark 16, the Holy Spirit highlighted verse 7:
“Now go and tell his disciples, including Peter, that Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you before he died.”
“Now go and tell his disciples, including Peter.”
“...including Peter.”
In this passage, Jesus had resurrected and Mary Magdelene, Mary the Mother of James, and Salome were standing before an empty tomb, only occupied now by an angel. The angel tells them to report what they have seen. Jesus is alive.
But what stood out to me were the two words, “including Peter.”
Why did the angel feel the need to mention Peter’s name?
Isn’t it implied that Peter should be told along with the rest of the disciples since he also followed Jesus for three years?
It doesn’t make sense…until you rewind two chapters.
“Meanwhile, Peter was in the courtyard below. One of the servant girls who worked for the high priest came by and noticed Peter warming himself at the fire. She looked at him closely and said, ‘You were one of those with Jesus of Nazareth.’ But Peter denied it. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, and he went out into the entryway. Just then, a rooster crowed.
When the servant girl saw him standing there, she began telling the others, ‘This man is definitely one of them!’ But Peter denied it again.
A little later some of the other bystanders confronted Peter and said, ‘You must be one of them, because you are a Galilean.’ Peter swore, ‘A curse on me if I’m lying—I don’t know this man you’re talking about!’ And immediately the rooster crowed the second time. Suddenly, Jesus’ words flashed through Peter’s mind: ‘Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny three times that you even know me.’ And he broke down and wept.” (Mark 14:66-72, New Living Translation)
Peter was battling with the reality of rejecting the Messiah at such a pivotal moment. He cried bitterly when he realized what he had done. Though the Bible doesn’t detail what happens afterward, it could be assumed Peter found himself unworthy to stick around, given that John was the only disciple at the foot of the cross. Peter probably ran home in despair. He was the tough one. Often, he was the leader of the group. Not too long before rejecting Jesus, he cut off a soldier’s ear on Jesus’ behalf. He even told Jesus that same night that he would never betray Him.
How could he have failed Jesus so terribly?
This angel had several messages in Mark 16 that we may miss if we gloss over the text. The first message is the most monumental— the resurrection of Christ. But the other is subtle, “including Peter.” God wanted Peter to know that though he failed, he was not forgotten or cast away. He indeed was still worthy to be considered a disciple and deserving of the calling that would be given on the other side of resurrection and ascension.
By highlighting this text to me, the Holy Spirit was reassuring me.
You messed up but I still want to speak to you.
You messed up but you’re still my disciple.
You messed up but you’re still My daughter.
You messed up but yes, you too.
Come meet Me in Galilee, the place where I first called you to Myself.
This revelation gave me confidence in my position. The only reason why Peter could still be included is because Jesus resurrected. His life, death, and resurrection brought forth a covering of wrong and love that knows no bounds.
Certainly, that message would be delivered alongside the report of an empty tomb. It’s a revelation of love that encourages the soul. It encouraged my soul and enabled me to crucify my identity as a first-generation eldest daughter in a Christian West Indian household.
God doesn’t expect perfection from me. I wasn’t created to be perfect. If creation were perfect, there would be no empty tomb because there would be no need for the sacrifice of Jesus. The Father accounted for our flaws— it’s shown through His radical love. His radical love is freeing. It doesn’t free me to act as I please but it frees me to pick up my cross again and carry it undistracted. My eyes are fixed on the One who had done it before me and I’m able to follow His lead and live under His protection.
Get up, repent, forgive yourself, and go meet Him in Galilee.
And Repeat.
He’ll always be there.
