Of course these are not the only incidents that the gospels recount of the miraculous events of that first Easter. My personal favourite has to be the one that Luke tells us, of the two disciples making their way to Emmaus, when they were joined by a shadowy stranger along the road. It was only as he broke bread with them in their home that they recognized that they had been with Jesus.
No doubt there were numerous other encounters between the risen Christ and his followers that have been lost to us. And John says as much in the final verses of chapter 20:
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.
It would almost seem at this point as though John had reached his conclusion. He puts down his pen. But then he pauses. “Wait a minute!” he says to himself. “There’s one more story that I must tell. And here is how it happened…”
The comfort of the familiar
The scene this time is by the Sea of Galilee. It is early in the morning and the mist is slowly rising from the tranquil surface of the lake. Seven of them had decided to go fishing. And so they had pushed out the night before and let down their nets.
I remember years ago when Karen and I were cottaging with our children in St Margaret’s Bay. I thought I should give them an experience of fishing. I had memories of going out in a rowboat to fish with my dad and brothers and rarely catching anything. And so, if nothing else, I thought to myself, it might teach our kids some patience.
Well, we were barely minutes out on the bay when the water around us was teeming with fish. I’m talking hundreds of them. And it seemed as though they were begging to be caught, practically jumping into our boat. What we didn’t realize was that we had rowed right into the middle of a school of mackerel—and it didn’t take us long to haul in enough to feed our family of five. So much for a lesson on patience!
Sadly, that was not the experience of Peter and his companions. They had fished all night and hadn’t anything to show for it. But I’m not altogether sure that it mattered. My suspicion is that they had not gone back to Galilee and to their fishing boats to earn some cash. No, they had gone back because it was familiar. It was somewhere that they could be quiet, somewhere that perhaps they might at least begin to process the whirlwind of events that they had become embroiled in over the previous few weeks.
Try to imagine for a moment what their lives had been like. They had marched into Jerusalem to the cheers of triumphant crowds shouting “Hosanna!” and waving their fronds of palm. Days later they had looked on powerlessly as the one they had come to revere as the Messiah was arrested, savagely beaten and nailed up to breathe out his last on a cross. Then only days after that they were confronted with the news that he was alive—and soon they were seeing him for themselves in front of their very own eyes.
To say that they had been on an emotional roller coaster would be an understatement. So should it be any wonder that they would want to go back to the lake, back to where things were quiet, back to where life was predictable? And besides, hadn’t Jesus himself instructed the women to tell them that they would see him in Galilee? (Matthew 28:10)
Peter, Thomas and the others just needed a break. So it was only human that they should retreat to the comfort of the familiar. And the wonderful thing was that Jesus met them there. “Buddies, you don’t have any fish, do you?” came a voice through the mist from a figure on the shore. “No,” they replied. “Then try casting your net on the right-hand side of your boat.”
I can imagine them thinking to themselves, “What does this guy know? Oh well, I suppose it can’t do any harm.” So with aching backs and arms from working all night, they let down their net. It seemed that no sooner had it sunk under the water than it was loaded with fish. And then it began to sink in—the strange familiarity about what was happening. It had been three years before, at one of their first encounters with Jesus that an almost identical scenario had unfolded (Luke 5:1-11).
Now there was no question in their minds as to who the figure was that was calling out to them. And hardly a split second was lost before Peter was splashing through the water on his way to meet him.
Some years ago a friend of mine wrote a book which she entitled, God Meets Us Where We Are. And it seems to me that that is the point of this incident. Jesus comes to us at our points of loneliness and sorrow, our times of fatigue and doubt. He doesn’t wait for us to come to him. He is the good shepherd, who seeks out his lost sheep until he finds them and brings them home. He is the one who graciously invites you and me, “Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)
Right now we’re heading into what for many is the busiest time of the year. Three weeks ago I was already hearing “Jingle Bells” in one of the stores—and it wasn’t even Hallowe’en yet! If you can do it, may I suggest that somehow, amid all the rush and bother of this season, you try to find the time to go to your own personal Sea of Galilee and let Jesus meet you there and nourish you as he did those first disciples. Even if it isn’t for any more than a few minutes, I have no doubt that Jesus will not disappoint you.
The call to serve
Of course the story does not end there. After the last of the fish and the bread have been eaten, Jesus turns to Peter and asks him, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” “Yes, Lord,” Peter replies, “you know that I love you.” To which Jesus replies, “Feed my lambs.” Then a second time Jesus says to Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Again Peter answers, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” And Jesus says, “Tend my sheep.” Hardly have the words left Peter’s mouth before Jesus asks a third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
John tells us that Peter was grieved when Jesus asked him the same question the third time around. In fact, I don’t think it would be going too far to say that those words pierced into the depths of into Peter’s soul. Why do you think that was so? Because not that many days before, at Jesus’ moment of greatest need, Peter had denied even knowing him three times.
Peter could not have missed Jesus’ intent. And I can only imagine that it was with lips quivering and tears welling up in his eyes that Peter managed to blubber out the words for the third time: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” To which Jesus tells him once again, “Feed my sheep.”
What encouragement I find in that dialogue! I am embarrassed and ashamed when I think of the number of times I have failed Jesus since I first began to follow him. And perhaps you might say the same of yourself.
Indeed, when it comes down to it, none of us is equal to the task of serving God. Yet that is a pattern that we see from beginning to end in Scripture. Think of it: Jacob was a deceiver, Moses was a stutterer, Ruth was a penniless widow, David was an adulterer, Jonah was a coward, and on and on the list goes… Yet God empowered and equipped each of them to serve him in remarkable ways. And in his grace Jesus still calls and trusts the likes of you and me to serve him.
Your name may never be in the headlines, but there will be people whose lives were made better because of having known you. You may never be aware of it. You may not remember what you said or did and they may never tell you. But in the end you will hear your Master say to you, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” (Matthew 25:23)
The cost of discipleship
Discipleship is an immeasurable privilege. But our passage this morning warns us that it often comes with a cost. And in these closing verses of John’s gospel Jesus warned that for Peter that cost would be his life.
Tradition tells us that Peter’s journey of discipleship led him to Rome. In the year 64 that city was struck by a disastrous fire. The blaze raged unchecked for nearly ten days, destroying over 70% of the city. And the ruins were still smouldering when rumours began to spread that the Emperor Nero himself was somehow behind it. Anxious for a scapegoat, Nero in turn pointed an accusing finger at the Christians, who had been a small but increasing presence in Rome for a generation.
In a savage display of cruelty, believers were sentenced to be torn apart by wild animals; they were covered in pitch and burned alive as human torches to light the imperial gardens; and some were crucified. Among this last group was the apostle Peter. And there is a further tradition (although it cannot be proven historically) that claims that, as he did not consider himself worthy of being put to death in the same manner as his Lord, Peter chose to be crucified upside down.
We can be grateful here in Canada that we live in a society where we are free to worship as we choose and to live out our beliefs on a daily basis. But did you know that one in eight Christians in the world today live in countries where they may be persecuted for their faith? That is over 300 million believers!
In the twelve months between October 2019 and September 2020, it is estimated that over 4,700 Christians were killed for their faith; nearly 4,300 were unjustly arrested, detained or imprisoned; and more than 1,700 were abducted for faith-related reasons.[1]
Those are sobering statistics. But let them be an encouragement to you and to me to follow the counsel that Peter himself has left us: to honour Christ as Lord in our hearts and always to be prepared to give a reason to anyone who asks us for the hope that is in us (1 Peter 3:15).
As John concludes his gospel, he looks back over his times with Jesus and the years that have passed by since. And every bit as much as on that first resurrection morning, he remains wide-eyed with amazement. You can hear it when you listen to his concluding words: “Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”
And isn’t it equally amazing that nearly two thousand years after the events, people are still talking about Jesus and books are still being written about him! As we close our Bibles (at least for now) may we never lose that sense of wonder and awe in the presence of Jesus, the Word become flesh, who dwelt among us—and continues to dwell among us by his Spirit today—full of grace and truth!
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