Double-click to

A SECOND CHANCE                                                                                    Third of Easter

                                                                                                                               April 18, 2010

 

John 21:1-17

 

 

            “So…what do we do now?  We thought things were picking up, that there might be a way out.  We thought there might be a glorious future.  But now we’re not so sure.  Oh, there are little things that give a bit of hope, but really, hope is getting more and more dim.  We might as well admit it—our time in the sun is pretty much over and perhaps we’d just better close up shop and go about our own business.  Stop sitting around wondering what we’re going to do about tomorrow and the next day and the next.

 

            “I don’t know about you, but I’m just going to go back to doing what I’ve always done.  At least it’s familiar and I know how to do it.  Anyone want to join me?  We may be falling apart at the seams but if we keep on doing what we’ve always been familiar with, then we can at least fill our days.  And the future will just have to take care of itself.  I just don’t have any more energy to be beating my head against a brick wall.  What I hoped, what we all hoped, is just not going to happen.  That’s pretty clear.  It’s time to be practical and face the fact that we aren’t going to be able to do what we’d expected we’d do.”

 

            And, saying that, Peter climbed into the boat and began to prepare to go fishing.  The others, unable to think of anything else to do, decided to go fishing, too.  This was a long way from the “fishing for people” that Jesus had promised them.  But he’d left and taken all their hopes with him.  Oh, sure, he kept appearing to them and reassuring them.  But, let’s be practical—he wasn’t there to lead them daily any more.  They were on their own—followers without a leader.  So, in despair and frustration, they went fishing.

 

            What do you do when life gets to be too much?  What do you do when everything seems to be falling apart around you and you know nothing can ever be the same again?  What do you do when you find yourself in a situation over which you have no control?

 

            I know what I do—I tidy and clean.  I get out the vacuum and duster and I scour.  I line up the books and CD’s on my shelves so that they all hit the edge of the shelf just so.  I file stuff away.  I keep busy with the stuff I know how to do.

 

            When life is a mess, return to routine.  And, of all the disciples, Peter’s life was in the most mess.  Like the others, he felt grief, confusion, fear after Jesus’ death.  Like the others, he felt joy and relief with Jesus’ resurrection appearances.  But, unlike the others, he was burdened down with a load of guilt.  When Jesus had needed him most, he had taken the expedient and cowardly way out and denied that he had ever known the man.

 

            Denied that he had known the man who had walked with him over the dusty roads and hills of Palestine for three years.  Denied that he had known the man who called him a rock, strong and steadfast.  Denied that he had known the man who had washed his feet.  Denied that he had known the man whom he had been the first to call Messiah.  But, worst of all, denied that he had known the man who called him friend.

 

            But all that would have been fixed, Peter thought, if he had just had a chance to say that he was sorry.  That he loved Jesus.  That he must have been out of his mind when he answered the servant girl near the fire in Pilate’s courtyard.  If only…….  The words went through Peter’s mind a hundred times a day. 

 

Each time there had been a meeting with Jesus after the Resurrection, Peter had been on the verge of saying something.  But he never got up the nerve.  And his guilt was killing him.  Grief and confusion, uncertainty and fear—all those things Peter could live with.  But each time Jesus appeared to them since that horrible/joyful weekend, Peter’s gladness was marred by this burden of gut-wrenching guilt.

 

            Of all the disciples, Peter is the one I never have much trouble identifying with.  I can understand and empathize with his impulsiveness, his often “foot-in-mouth” disease, his needing to be doing something, his impatience with waiting—even his self-preserving denial on that final night.  I’m not sure, under the same circumstances, I would not have considered denying that I knew Jesus as the most practical and prudent thing to do—after all, my being arrested would have served no useful purpose.

 

            The trouble is, my denying Jesus would have served no useful purpose either.  And, like Peter, I would have been burdened with such a load of guilt that my life would be a misery.

 

            We have no problem understanding guilt. Guilt comes more easily to many of us than joy.  Like Peter, guilt allows us to berate ourselves and, worse, gives us an excuse for inaction.  But guilt is the most useless emotion there is.  Instead of revelling in the fact that Jesus is among them once again, Peter sits in glum self-punishment.  Instead of carrying on Jesus’ work, Peter goes fishing.

 

            And then everything changes.  For, as the disciples prepare to return to shore after a fruitless night of fishing, they see someone on the shore who tells them to let their net down on the other side of the boat.  They do.  And their net is filled to the breaking point.  And they remember another fruitless night of fishing and the One who filled their nets that time.  “It is the Lord!” they cry. 

 

And Peter, impulsive as always and wanting to prove his love for Jesus, jumps in the water and wades ashore before anyone else.  Perhaps he’s thinking that he will find the courage to confess if he can have a moment alone with Jesus before the others land.

 

            But Jesus has other plans.  Eat breakfast first.  He’s like a parent.  “You can face anything in the day if you just have a good breakfast.”  And, when the food is all eaten and they are relaxing in delicious contentment around the fire, then it happens.

“Peter, do you love me?”  Peter is startled.  He wasn’t expecting this, although he could understand why Jesus asked him.  In Peter’s eyes, someone who loves you doesn’t run away when you are in trouble.  But, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  “Feed my lambs.” 

 

Peter is startled.  That’s not what he was expecting.  He wanted to say something more, something that would explain why he had acted as he had on that night—the fear, the disappointment.  But he didn’t get a chance.

 

            “Peter, do you love me?”  “I just said I did.  You know that I love you.”  “Tend my sheep.”  What kind of response is that?  I forgive you would be a better one.  Or it’s okay.  Or let’s just move on.  What is Jesus doing?

 

            And then, a third time: “Simon, son of John, do you love me??”  “What is this, Lord.  Yes, I love you.  You know I do.  You know everything.  You know what I did—you knew it even before I did it.  You know, too, how terrible I’ve felt ever since.  So why do you keep on asking me if I love you?”  “Feed my sheep.”

 

            And it finally dawns on Peter.  Three times he denied Jesus.  Three times he has been given a chance to declare his love.  And three times Jesus has given him the same commission that Peter had been given before his denial—“look after my lambs, my sheep, my flock.  On you I will build my church.  On you I will rely to spread my caring to the world.”

 

            No berating Peter for what he had done.  No telling Peter how disappointed Jesus was in him.  No describing how alone Jesus felt when even Peter, Peter of all people, denied him.  No holding Peter’s betrayal against him.  None of that.  Just one chance per denial for Peter to reverse the denial and declare his love. 

 

And then to be reminded that his work had never changed—“Follow me and build my church.”  Jesus’ forgiveness of Peter is complete—the past is wiped out by the present.  It’s over and gone.  Trust is restored.  Not only does Jesus live, but Peter is also alive once more—alive to do the work of love that Jesus began.

 

            The story is told of a man who had been living with a terrible burden of guilt for many years.  He had done something despicable which no one else knew about and he was convinced that he was beyond all hope of forgiveness—and it kept him from living and loving fully.  One day he met a woman who was something of a mystic.  She claimed to have visions in which Christ appeared and spoke to her.

 

            The man thought that maybe she could help him with his horrible guilt but he wanted to test her first—to see if she really could communicate with Christ.  So he said to her, “You say that you are able to speak directly with Christ in your visions.  I have a secret which no one else on earth knows.  The next time you are in conversation with Christ, please ask him to tell you the sin I committed years ago that destroyed my peace of soul.”  The mystic said that she would gladly ask Christ the question.

 

            Several days later, the two met as agreed.  Immediately the man asked “Did you visit with Christ in a vision?”  “Yes.”  “And did you ask him what terrible sin I committed years ago?”  “Yes.”  “Tell me quickly, what did Christ say?”  “He said, ‘I don’t remember.’”

 

            Jesus doesn’t ask Peter about his denials.  Jesus forgives and forgets.  And turns to the important things.  “Do you love me?  Then carry on with the work that has been entrusted to you.”

 

            By a simple question of love, Jesus has opened his arms to Peter, to this impulsive, enthusiastic, generous and guilt-ridden man, has forgiven him and given him another chance to do the work to which he was called.  And just as Jesus does this for Peter, God always does the same for us.

 

            And all we have to say is, with Peter, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  And we are shown that God is not done with us yet, no matter what, because the response to Peter’s, and our, declaration of love is always a call to live for the kingdom of love.  Caring for all God’s creation.  Feeding the lambs.

 

           

 edit text, or drag to move.