Some believe that for the rest of Peter's life, tears came to his eyes whenever he remembered denying his Lord. And why not? His sin was enormous, and God's grace had done its perfect work in him. Every believer knows this same experience, to whatever degree the Spirit of God has softened our hearts of stone.

We, like Peter, remember our boastful promises: "Though all men shall forsake thee, yet will not I." Now we eat those words seasoned with the bitter herbs of repentance. When we think of what we vowed we would be, and then look at what we have been, we may weep whole showers of grief.

Peter thought about his denial. Where he did it. The trivial cause that led him into such heinous sin. The oaths and blasphemies he piled on to make his denial sound convincing. And worst of all, the dreadful hardness of heart that drove him to do it again and again.

Can we remember our own sins—see their exceeding sinfulness—and remain unmoved? Will we not make our house a Bochim, a place of weeping, and cry out to the Lord for renewed assurance of His pardoning love? May we never take a dry-eyed look at sin, lest before long we have a tongue parched in the flames of hell.

But Peter also remembered his Master's look of love. After the rooster's warning cry, the Lord turned and gave him a look of sorrow, pity, and love. Peter never forgot that glance as long as he lived. It was far more effectual than ten thousand sermons would have been without the Spirit. And surely the broken apostle wept again when he remembered how completely Jesus forgave him, restoring him to his former place.

To think that we have offended so kind and good a Lord is more than sufficient reason for being constant weepers. Lord, smite our rocky hearts and make the waters flow.