What Petra really Means

                Webster’s tells me that the Greek word Petra/Petros means rock/stone and no, I’m not talking about the 80’s band. Rock is something that is formed over time, by “heat and pressure” good ol’ Miss Frizzle echoes back at me—memories from a child I used to work with who wanted to read “the Magic School bus Inside the Earth” at least once a day. But for me, Petra also brings to mind (Simon) Peter, one of Jesus’ disciples who had that name chosen for him by Jesus.

I am one of those people who loves names and their meanings, when I have children someday it will matter greatly to me the meanings and implications of what I choose to call them—not in some “vicariously living through my children by giving them ‘empowering’ names” way—but because historically and across diverse cultures, naming is important and signifies a calling and chosen aspect of a child. The apostle Peter is a prime example. I love that Jesus chose to call him Peter when he chose him as a disciple, not some afterthought nickname. I equally love the fact that while Peter exemplified his name in many ways—it was also something for him to live up to. Peter didn’t always have a rock solid faith, and it definitely was formed by “heat and pressure”. Yes, he was the most eager, hopping out of the boat, the first to say that he would “never  deny Jesus”—but then he looked away, started to sink and frantically proclaimed that he was drowning. One minute he’s promising total allegiance, and an hour later he’s practically shouting that he never knew Jesus.  It is only after the resurrection that we truly see Peter’s “rock” side—he becomes a pillar of the early church and even mirrors his Savior by being hung on a cross—upside down.

But what I really love about Peter; and the word petra—is that it gives me hope. It reminds me that rock (solid faith) is formed over time—not in spite of the heat of doubt or the pressures of temptation around me—but through them. Peter wasn’t a rock because he never struggled; he exemplified his name because he persevered.

Peter gives me hope because I am so much like him. One minute I’m flinging myself across an ocean and 90 days later I’m looking at the waves of loss and suffering and shrieking that my faith is drowning. In prideful prayer I make promises of faithfulness and obedience that are broken moments after ‘amen’.

Peter reminds me that I’m called not because I’m perfect, but because I’m chosen. I can exemplify my own name’s meaning –consecrated to God—not by own strength or will, but by the Savior who chose that name, and who enables me to live out its meaning as he weaves each day into a tapestry of his perfect will. That, dear reader, is what Petra really means.