He asked to be spared, then stayed.
In Gethsemane, Jesus tells Peter, James and John that his soul is sorrowful to the point of death. He falls to the ground and asks for the cup to pass from him. In Matthew and Mark he prays more than once. Each time he comes back, his friends are asleep.
Look at the order. He does not wait for the distress to lift before he consents. He asks to be spared and he agrees in the same prayer, and neither cancels the other. Many traditions see this as a moment only he could stand in. Still, the shape is familiar: sorrow said out loud, and a choice made inside it.
Peter's worst night was not his last.
That night Peter swears he will never fall away, even if he has to die. John names him as the man who drew a sword at the arrest. Then, in Matthew and Mark, they all leave Jesus and run. By a fire in the high priest's courtyard, Peter is recognized three times and three times says he does not know him. The rooster crows. He remembers, and weeps.
Most readers see fear here, and the scene makes that fair. What Peter felt, the gospels leave unsaid. What they show is the act: the same man who drew a sword in the garden would not admit, by the fire, that he knew him.
The story does not stop there. In John, beside another charcoal fire, the risen Jesus asks him three times, "Do you love me?" Readers have long heard those questions as answering the three denials. The third grieves him. Each answer ends in a task: feed my lambs, feed my sheep. A prediction of his death follows. His restoration is not a clean slate. It is grief, and more work.
Hope arrived with its wounds showing.
In Luke the risen Jesus shows his hands and feet. In John he shows his hands and side. There, Thomas says he will not believe until he touches the nail marks. Jesus invites him to do exactly that, and Thomas answers, "My Lord and my God." The marks are not erased. They are how he is known. In the story's logic, hope does not wipe the damage away. It carries it.
Hope does not land as certainty either. In Matthew, the women hurry from the tomb afraid and overjoyed at once. In Luke, the apostles dismiss their report as idle talk. In Matthew, even on the mountain in Galilee, some doubted. In none of the accounts does hope arrive tidy.
