Copyright © 2018 S P Townsend
After He rose from the dead Jesus appeared to His disciples on the evening of the first day of the week, and then again as they were gathered together a week later. After this many of them returned to Galilee, and chapter 21 of John’s gospel records what happened there.
Seven of them went out night fishing, but though they fished all night they caught nothing. As dawn arrived the boat was close to the shore, and a stranger standing there watching them suggested that they put out the net on the right side of the boat. A rather strange suggestion, but nonetheless they did what he said, and found to their amazement that the net was full of fish. John immediately said, “It must be the Lord.” At this Simon Peter dived in and swam to the shore. The others brought the boat to the beach, dragging the net along with it. Jesus was there, tending a fire on which some fish were cooking. “Come and have breakfast,” he said.
John’s account continues to describe what happened in this, the third time that Jesus appeared to a gathered group of his disciples after his resurrection. In spite of the wide-ranging and fascinating content, from the number of fish the disciples caught to the breakfast barbecue on the beach, this story mainly focuses on one person and his relationship to Jesus. John refers to this man throughout this story as Simon Petros, or Simon Peter. Not his original surname, of course. He was actually Simon Ioannou, but at the time John wrote this account all of the Christian community called this man Simon Peter, with great affection and not a little respect. For it was Jesus who had given Simon this new surname – Petros, the stone or rock (Cephas in Aramaic) – and the Christian community appreciated how apt this name was for one who became such a strong and supportive foundational pillar in the early Church.
But Simon didn’t feel like a rock when this event took place. I suspect he felt just like a blob of jelly – weak, unreliable, unable to hold up his own head let alone support anyone else. For Simon, as we know, had denied Jesus on the night of His arrest. And not just denied Him quietly and in a corner. Loudly, emphatically, using curses to convince his hearers, he swore that he was definitely not a disciple of Jesus and in fact had never met the man. All of the gospels tell this story of Simon’s denial of Jesus. But Luke’s gospel contains a detail that can only have been communicated by Simon himself. He wrote that on Simon’s third and final denial, “The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him. … And he went outside and wept bitterly.” (Luke 22: 61-62)
What was Simon thinking as he dried his clothes by the fire on the shores of lake Galilee? One of the group, and yet Simon would have been sitting just a little apart from the others. Shame does that to you. Shame of failure that everyone knows about but nobody mentions. Shame of betrayal. For yes, Simon’s actions had been a betrayal of Jesus just as Judas’ actions had been. Not as planned and deliberate as Judas’, and not from the same motive, but equally as devastating to his self-image. Was he hoping for, longing for, but inwardly dreading another look from Jesus? “Will he notice me? Will he ignore me? If he does look at me, what will he convey with his eyes – derision, scorn, contempt?”
It must have been a long, long breakfast for Simon. We aren’t told what everyone was talking about during that breakfast: the excited chatter; hanging on to Jesus’ every word; the leg-pulling and banter that are a feature of men getting together the world over. But Simon wouldn’t have been a part of that, not that morning. He busied himself while he could. Getting the net full of fish to the shore, he could do that without talking much to anyone. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were the one who counted them, too. “The net’s very full. How many fish are there? I’ll count them – that’ll give me something to do for a while. Wow 153! Let’s just check that again!”
Then, after they had all finished eating, Jesus got up from where he had been sitting and moved towards Simon. “Oh, no. He’s coming this way. He can’t avoid noticing me. What will he say? Will he ask me what I’m doing here? Will he tell me to go, that I’m no longer welcome?”
I wonder if you can empathise with the way Simon must have been feeling that morning. He had made a choice to abandon Jesus to his fate, and to deny him when he most needed a friend. How could he ever even begin to put that right? How could there be any way back to the relationship he once had? Maybe you haven’t denied Jesus as Simon did, swearing on oath that you are not his follower. But nonetheless perhaps you, too, are aware that you have let him down. Perhaps you once decided to follow him, but for a long time now you have to all intents and purposes abandoned that commitment. For months, maybe years he has played no significant part in your life and decision making. Oh, you have said the right things about him when it’s been appropriate, and you come to church because it’s actually quite an enjoyable place to be. But as for a close relationship with Jesus, living your life to honour him and please him, that just doesn’t happen anymore.
And perhaps you feel that there is no way back. Even if you were to try to restore your relationship with him, would he want you? After all, if you’ve failed him once surely it’s inevitable that you’ll fail him again? If these are the kind of thoughts that pass through your mind then you will fully appreciate how Simon must have been feeling on that beach that morning.
So how taken aback was Simon by the question Jesus asked him? “Simon Ioannou, do you love me more than these?” There’s a lot in a name, isn’t there? Not, you notice, the new name Jesus had given him: Simon Peter. Not the Simon that Jesus intended to make him become. But Simon Ioannou, the Simon that he really was before he met Jesus. The Simon he had made himself to be. The Simon who was such a complete failure.
What did Jesus mean by “more than these”? Was he talking about the fishing boat, the nets and the fish? Was it Simon’s occupation and way of life that he was referring to? No, I don’t think so. Jesus was taking Simon back – back before the resurrection, before his death, before his trial, before his arrest even. Back to the night of the last supper, and a conversation they all had together. Matthew recorded it like this.
Then Jesus told them, ‘This very night you will all fall away on account of me, for it is written: ‘“I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.” But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.’ Peter replied, ‘Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.’ ‘Truly I tell you,’ Jesus answered, ‘this very night, before the cock crows, you will disown me three times.’ But Peter declared, ‘Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.’ And all the other disciples said the same. (Matthew 26: 31-35, NIV-UK)
“Possibly these guys might abandon you, but I won’t,” said Peter boldly. “My commitment to you is stronger than that. I’ll follow you to death if necessary.” So Jesus now asked him, “On this question of your being more devoted to me than all of these others – you know, the thing we were discussing a few days ago – how would you answer that now?”
See how Jesus takes Simon right back to the place where his foot slipped. We might think Simon’s basic sin was that he denied Jesus. And we’d be wrong. Simon’s basic sin was that he proudly trusted in his own faithfulness to Jesus. At that point his trust was in himself, not Christ, and his spectacular failure followed inevitably. God will always take us back to where we step off the path of trust and obedience. Of course He will, otherwise we will never get straightened up. It may be such a little step initially – an offence taken from what someone says, an unhealthy desire we nurture, a feeling of self-pity that eats away. But that small initial step can eventually result in us being far away from fellowship with God. It may be this morning that the Lord will put his finger on something in your life, a time when your foot slipped and took you away from close fellowship with Him. Welcome His touch, for His touch is one of forgiveness and grace – He is the healer and the restorer of your soul.
The word for “love” that Jesus used was “agapao”, the word used in the Bible for Christian devotion, that implies actively choosing what the Lord prefers, and carrying it out with the power he provides. So how did Simon respond to this question, “Do you love me more than these?” “Yes, Lord,” he said, “You know that I love you.” The word “love” that Simon used was the word “phileo,” meaning “to regard with affection and heartfelt consideration.” “Yes, Lord,” he responded, “I have affection for you as my dear friend.”
What else could Simon have said? How on earth could he answer that question? There was no accusation in what Jesus said, no judgement or disapproval; only gentleness. And the most devastating and penetrating question he could have come up with. And as Simon struggled to find words to express his true feelings, I am quite sure that Satan, the accuser, was whispering in his ear, “What a complete and utter fraud you are. First you said you were ready to die for him, then you swore blind that he meant nothing to you, and now apparently he’s some kind of friend.”
We must be careful not to read more than we should into the difference between the two words for love that Jesus and Simon used. But I am quite sure that Simon struggled to answer this question honestly and still look Jesus in the eye. And so he stammered (maybe he didn’t stammer but I’m sure I would have done) “I care for you deeply, Lord.” And, remarkably, this seemed to be enough for Jesus. “I have a task for you, Simon,” He responded. “I want you to feed my lambs.”
So here was the Lord commissioning Simon Peter to nurture and care for the small community of His disciples, and if ancient tradition is right he eventually become the first Bishop of Rome. But there was no fanfare, no choir singing, no anointing with oil; seemingly not even laying on of hands. Just a quiet word sitting together on a beach. As with Elijah of old the Lord did not speak through an earthquake, wind or fire, but in a still, small voice. Listen for that voice to you today; when He heals and restores He also commissions. Our response of love – true agapao love – is to delight to do what He calls us to do, depending on His grace to enable us.
I said that it seemed Peter’s response was enough for Jesus, but as we read on we see that maybe it wasn’t, at least not yet. For Jesus persisted with His question. “Simon Ioannou, do you love me?” Again, not phileo but agapeo. And Simon replied again in the same way, “Yes, Lord, I have affection for you as my dear friend.” Once again Jesus commissioned him. “Shepherd my sheep,” He said.
And then for a third time Jesus questioned Simon. But this time His question was subtly different. “Simon Ioannou, do you really have affection for me as a dear friend?” – this time phileo not agapeo. And I think this broke Simon’s heart. The NIV translation says very simply, “Simon was hurt.” Other translations say, “Simon was grieved.” If we read this unthinkingly we might conclude that Simon was a bit miffed or put out. “Why is Jesus asking me this for a third time; is He doubting me?”
Now the Greek word used for “hurt” is “elypethe” from the verb “lupeo,” to distress or grieve. Its meaning is to experience deep emotional pain or sadness, severe sorrow or grief. It conveys great intensity of pain. It is even used of the pain of childbirth in the Greek Septuagint version of Genesis 3: 16: “To the woman he said, ‘I will make your distress in childbearing very severe; with painful distress you will give birth to children.’”
Simon wasn’t just a bit disgruntled. He was deeply, intensely distressed. We are not told what form that intense grief took. We are only told his words, when eventually he was able to get them out. “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”
Why did Jesus put Simon through such distress? Because he needed to be healed and forgiven, and that meant not only recognising his failures himself, but also understanding that Jesus knew him through and through, warts and all, and yet still loved him. What a gloriously liberating realisation this is, that Jesus indeed knows everything about us. He knows all about you. He knows your hopes, your good intentions, your bad choices, your terrible failings. He knows it all, and He loves you, and he wants to heal you and forgive you. Not only that, he wants to commission you and equip you to accomplish what you could never do in your own strength.
I suspect Simon started that breakfast fearing that for him the door was shut tight. Surely there could be no forgiveness for what he had done. Jesus had told parables about the Lord who sternly said, “Depart from me, I never knew you.” Wouldn’t he say the same to Simon? Jesus also had said that you would know people by their fruit, and what terrible fruit had Simon’s actions revealed? And maybe you, too, fear that God has shut the door on you. You had your chance and blew it, and now you fear there is no prospect of experiencing His forgiveness. If that is how you feel then you need to know that God has not and will not shut the door on you. If the door is shut, it is because you have shut it, not Him. And while you have breath remaining in your lungs and life-blood pumping through your veins you are able to reach out to the handle and open the door. And when you do, you will find Jesus standing outside, ready to offer healing, forgiveness and restoration, and a task for you to joyfully fulfil for Him in His strength and for His glory.
Copyright © 2018 S P Townsend