When Three Doesn't Equal Three

In John 21, Peter, the Christ-appointed "Fisher of Men" is exploring an inglorious return to "Fisher of Fish". It is a couple months after Peter denied Jesus three times before the crucifixion. The resurrected Jesus decides to pay the dejected Peter and other disciples a visit on a familiar beach. Jesus has just surprised them with a campfire breakfast. With Peter's physical hunger now satisfied, Jesus turns his scalpel to Peter's spiritual hunger. He does this by asking him one simple question three times.

Let's pick it up at John 21:16, where Jesus asks the question for a second time: “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”

Peter knows somethings is up. You don't ask someone the same question a second time when a definitive answer was given the first time. Let me try to get in Peter’s head for a minute:

"He just asked me the same question twice. What is he getting at? I know from years of listening to Him that he speaks a secret language. It’s poetic and surgical. It’s impossibly glorious and, yet, impossible to fully understand. One word from the Lord holds the weight of 10,000 men's manuscripts. After all He is the Word.

But now. He’s asking me if I love him. I need to answer quickly, but I can’t stop looking at that fire of burning coals over there.

Do I love him?

Yes! But…

What about the past month. Things haven’t been the same. He knows it. He can see right through me."

Then Jesus asked for the third time (verse 17) “Simon son of John: Do you love me?”

Silence.

"I can’t answer him. I just want to sink to the bottom of the sea right now. I feel sick. All I see is this fire of burning coals. All I hear is: I don’t know him. I don’t know him. I don’t know him. My savior, my Lord, my friend. I don’t know him. The Messiah on his way redeem my soul. And I didn’t know Him.

Can he see my tears filling up the scars of my cheeks? These acid rain tears. Jesus’ beard has been a sponge for oceans of tears over the years; he’d be wringing out his beard for days after Mary Magdalene came around. But never my tears-- I’ve always been stronger than this.

I just want to flee this place, yet he’s pulling me back in. I feel it. But I need to resist because I don’t deserve this. I deserve the fate of Judas.

I just want to run far away. And yet I just want to run into His arms. But all I see are burning coals.

He’s reaching out to me. He’s pulling me in.

All I feel is His burning love.

I said 'I don't know that man' and now His eyes are screaming 'But, Peter, I know you. I've known you since the foundation of the world. I knew you when you were conceived. I knew you when you could have laid spread-eagle on a grain of sand. I watched you grow. I made you to grow. I had plans for you when you were that pebble sinking into the basement of the sea as your faith floundered. But I never stopped praying for you Peter. I never stopped loving you. All I ever wanted was your heart. I know you love me, Peter. It’s an imperfect love, but my perfect love bridges the great divide. If you love me, show me: go feed my sheep.'"

We had 3 Denials and 3 “I love you’s”. Tie score, right? No, the love of Christ always wins. There is more mercy in Christ than there is sin in you. We have a God that loves you so much he won’t dismiss your failures, your perversions, your idolatries as just seasons in your life. He dives into the bowels of your dysfunction and pulls you out with His tentacles of love.

He loves you too much to let you get away with your sins.

And he loves you too much to let you keep beating yourself up over them.

Jesus needed Peter to face his failures, but he wasn’t there to rub Peter’s face in them. If Jesus operated like we do, he’d have out the interrogation spotlight and the list of failures.

Like, “Hey Peter, remember when you wouldn’t let me wash your feet and then you wanted me to wash your whole body? You didn’t get it. Guess what, I named you “Rock” because you’re a blockhead."

“Hey Peter, remember when you were walking on the water toward me but then you sank? I should have asked the disciple that I love to come, you know John, I know he would’ve made it to me.”

“Hey Peter, remember on the mountain when I was transfigured and you wanted to build altars for Moses, Elijah and me? That was a stupid idea Peter, even for you, king of stupid.”

No, that’s not how Jesus works. He looked at Peter with sympathy. He saw Peter broken and damaged. He lovingly collected the rubble of a man and put him back together. Restored him. Healed him. Saved him.

Because a humble, broken and contrite Peter is a Peter that Jesus can use. Because Jesus has a job for Peter. The job title is “Sheep Feeder”. The job interview is 3 questions. Well just 1 question asked 3 times. “Do you love me?” Not “Did you memorize the Torah and the books of the Prophets?” Not, “What is your experience as a feeder of sheep?” No, the only prerequisite for this job is love of Jesus.

A Peter in love with Jesus is a Peter that Jesus can and does use. This is a Peter that Jesus would use to lay the footers in the foundation of Christianity. A Peter that would go into difficult places where the only thing that would sustain him is the love affair he has with his savior.

God has a plan and purpose for each of us, as well. We must answer the same question Peter did. If you find it difficult to answer this question without pain or shame rising up in you, you need to know right now that you’re past doesn’t define you. Even your two-hours-ago past. Whatever you did in the past is not who you are when you become a new creation. Let your pain and humiliation drive you back to the foot of Christ. Give him your broken pieces.

The master takes our pieces and makes us masterpieces. He who began an artwork in us is faithful to bring it to completion. He will walk beside us with a swollen heart, a chisel and an ocean of mortar… and refuse to give up until His work has been accomplished.

So, love Him because He first loved you.

And let His love for you be your fire of burning coals.