Do You Love Me?

Here we are in the middle of another story of Jesus’ appearance to the disciples after his death, but this time the scene is simply between Jesus and Peter (John 21:15-19). Whether it happened or not doesn’t really matter, the question is what might the message be for us today?

First, let’s talk a little about Peter. Peter’s birth name was Simon, but at his first meeting with Jesus, Jesus changes his name to Peter, which literally means “rock” in Greek, alluding to Peter becoming the foundation of the new spiritual movement and eventually a new church. Ironically, Peter is anything but a rock when it comes to his faith and Jesus.

Peter was impulsive, passionate, loyal, yet sometimes fearful, doubtful and didn’t always understand things Jesus was saying or doing. He was a conundrum, a little Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, wavering back and forth between strength and weakness, all in and then not quite sure. Bishop John Shelby Spong suggests that, in this wavering, Peter symbolizes every man and every woman who must metaphorically die to what we are, before we can become who we are capable of being. In the gospels we watch the process of Peter struggling to become all he is capable of being.

I think we’ve all experienced times in life where our hearts, minds and souls are telling us we need to move forward into something new, but we feel like something is holding us back. We want to be all in, but are fearful at the same time. We excitedly anticipate a new life with new possibilities, but at the same time really wanting to stay in the old comfortable one. We know that to be all we are capable of being we need to move forward, but we really prefer to go back? Situations like a career change, divorce, retirement, aging, moving, changing churches, marriage, having children or becoming empty nesters, new ways of thinking can all evoke these kinds of inner struggles.

To move forward we need to release (“die to”) parts of our past, our doubts, fears, bad experiences, lack of confidence, the need for certainty, the desire to be comfortable. In Peter’s case, he needed to let go of his doubts and fears about his faith, as well as his fisherman self to set his feet on a new path.

Author Helen Luke talks about a little-known part of the story of Odysseus. “After 20 years at war and wandering home the master seaman is finally living peacefully as an old man in Ithaca with his wife, Penelope. After a time, the great and clever warrior finds himself restless and bored. He decides to go back to sea, where he is skilled and respected. He gathers his things and leaves a letter for his wife. With a small sack of belongings and an oar, he sets out for the harbor. On his way, he’s stopped by the great, blind soothsayer, Tiresias, who hovers before Odysseus and says, “No. Your time as a master seaman is over. You will turn around and walk inland, as far as you can, until you meet someone who doesn’t even know what an oar is. Then, you will plant the oar and start a garden.”

Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with going back to doing what you used to do best, unless it is for the wrong reasons, like the need to prove something, or the desire to run away from something – change, boredom.

We don’t see the final transformation of Peter from an impulsive fisherman to a stable foundation for a new spiritual movement until the very end of the Gospel of John. The scene is just between Jesus and Peter. One book I read called it Jesus’ interrogation of Peter! I feel a little sorry for Peter, perhaps because I’ve had my own wishy-washiness when it comes to following the spirit. Peter knows he isn’t perfect. He knows he has doubts. He knows inside that the old comfortable fishing life is slipping away and he isn’t sure he’s happy about that. Plus, the guy he was following was just executed. The future is not only uncertain, but dangerous as well. Still, Jesus isn’t going to let Peter off the hook. Jesus has always seen something in Peter – despite all the wavering and wishy-washiness - that Peter couldn’t always fully see in himself.

So, Jesus pulls Peter aside and asks, “Peter, do you love me?”

Peter replies, “Yes, Rabbi, you know I am your friend.” (some interpretations use “love” instead of “friend”).

Three times - perhaps to counter Peter’s three denials - Jesus asks, “Peter, do you love me?” Are you sure? Are you really sure you love – agape - me? Are you unconditionally, boundlessly devoted to me and all I’ve taught you? And, if you really are, then it has to be more than words. Show me your love by feeding and tending my sheep.

Love, as Episcopal Bishop Michael Curry reminds us, is a verb, an action. It is something fierce, with force and follow-through. Curry writes, “When we pull love out of the abstract, really put it to work, it starts to reveal its extraordinary power. Love is the only action that has ever changed the world for the better.”

Love has a responsibility, expectations and must sometimes risk consequences. And in this case, the consequences won’t be good for Peter. Are you really, really sure you love me, Peter? Then you can’t turn your back on everything we’ve begun and sit here fishing, you need to feed and tend to the people. You need to let go of who you used to be and live into the man you are being called to become.

Millard Fuller was a wealthy businessman who once heard a similar call to Peter’s; he gave up his lucrative career and put his money into creating Habitat for Humanity. James Howell, in his book Yours Are the Hands of Christ, shares this story:

A number of years ago, a group of churches in Charlotte brought Millard Fuller to the community. Instead of having one of the ministers introduce him, they chose Melissa Cornet, a tall, gangly woman who resided in a Habitat house herself. She wasn’t an accomplished speaker and was very nervous, but once she got going she had a lot to say.

“Millard Fuller, you are the answer to my prayer. I grew up in a tenement, a terrible place, full of drugs, violence. I was nobody, knew I’d always be nobody. I had a little boy – and there he was, in a terrible place, full of drugs, violence. I knew he’d never be anybody either. So I got on my knees and I prayed. I prayed hard. I said, ‘Lord, I will do anything; I will give up my life. But please, please, I just want my boy to have a chance to be somebody.’

“Millard Fuller, when God told you to give away your money, you were the answer to my prayer. I heard about Habitat, and I got to build a house. I met President Jimmy Carter. We got a house, a nice house.

“Before we moved in, my boy had started school, but his teacher said he was slow and he would probably never catch up. He never smiled. But then we moved into our new house. He had his own room. And he began to shine that day. He got to where he played and had fun. And he started making good grades in school. Now he’s in the third grade, and he’s making straight A’s. The other day, my boy said to me, ‘momma, do you know what I want to be when I grow up?... I’m going to be a doctor.”

“Millard Fuller, you’re the answer to my prayer.”

I’m not sure how the message of letting go and stepping forth in love speaks to each of us, but I do believe that Divine Love calls to us at different times in our lives to live into who we can become. It is up to us to listen. Perhaps we are called, like Peter, to tend and care and feed the sheep. Or perhaps there is something else that we might need release in order to live fully into who we were created to be. I can’t tell you what that looks like. All I can do is encourage you to keep paying attention, stay open and get ready to plant that oar somewhere it can grow.

Love & LIght!

Kaye