Friday – Love Never Fails
Luke 15:1-7
As a child growing up on a farm, we had small herds of livestock of different kinds. From time to time, a fence would break, or our horse stretching over the fence would lower it just enough that other animals could step over. Occasionally, a pig would root under the fence and dig his way out, and all his associates would follow him out for a day in the neighbor’s surrounding corn and soy bean fields. I have many memories of tracking this missing goat or that missing pig on foot through the neighbors’ properties, looking for what got loose. What amazes me still now is that my dad knew his animals well enough that immediately he could tell who was missing, even if we had ten red pigs that looked alike, or a dozen white sheep.
The story for today is of a sheep that wanders from the flock. The shepherd, noticing the missing sheep, leaves the rest of his flock to go and find the one, and when he brings back the lost sheep, he celebrates what was lost but now is found.
What seems at the heart of the shepherd’s will to go find the lost one is how deeply he knows the one who has strayed. To feed an animal day in and day out, to pay attention to its health, to invest resources in it and sacrifice for it, is to know the animal deeply and care for its well-being. In the old days, they used to call farming “animal-husbandry” and I think the sense is that the farmer is committed to a relationship with each individual in his or her flock, a relentless and unfailing commitment that stretches not only through the good times, but also the hard ones.
We, of course, are the sheep in the story. When we have strayed, our God has gone out of the way to find us, bring us back, celebrate how we are found. As the people of God who live out the abundant love of God, what does it mean for us to be committed to the flock as God is committed to us? Do we know our fellow human beings as deeply as God does, and when calamity comes, do we feel the concern and care for well-being such that we move toward finding them and bringing them back?
While we are together metaphorically the flock of God, there is a sense in which we are also shepherds of one another within the church – not that we direct one another, but that we care for the needs of one another, know one another, love one another, in relentless, embodied, and unfailing ways. And that kind of care stretches beyond the boundaries of our church to those in the world around us.
Who is missing? Who needs to be lovingly sought out and found by you? How can you embody the relentless love of the shepherd for the sheep?
Prayer: Good shepherd, you who have found us and brought us back, school us to embody your love toward one another and the world around us. Not one of us is disposable; all matter to you. Let us live and move in such a way that we honor your deep love for all of creation and for every neighbor. In the name of the lamb of God who has taken away the sins of the world, Amen.
-Shannon Schaefer
Mission Team
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Thursday – Love Does Not Keep a Record of Wrongs
Thursday – Love Does Not Keep a Record of Wrongs
Luke 15:11-32
‘…We had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’
Nowadays, it seems like a person can find out almost everything about someone else online. Between Google searches and Facebook profiles, there is information on nearly everyone. It is to a point that folks go out of their way to opt out of information tracking systems, and try as hard as they can to keep their personal information to themselves. I recently read a novel where the author imagined a not-so-distant future in which everything everyone did was public knowledge, with every angle of the world being recorded and streamed and monitored, so that everyone was ‘transparent’. Needless to say, it was a somewhat unsettling story.
There is a fear we have at having our information out there for anyone to access. Surely, identity theft has become a legitimate threat, but even beyond that, we are reluctant to expose our pasts to people, because many times when we think about our past, we zero in on our mistakes, our missteps, and our poor decisions. When we think about the past, even amidst a slew of happy and joyous memories, a regret can stand out like a fly in a glass of milk. It seems like the good times in our lives have almost as many times we’d rather forget. Times when we said the wrong thing, or showed up too late, or didn’t stand up for ourselves when we should have.
We are afraid and embarrassed by these histories because they remind us of our humanity, of our finitude, and of our imperfection. Somewhere deep down we might even believe that these past decisions and choices make us somehow lesser than, or unworthy of love. This was almost certainly what the Younger Son felt when he was journeying back to his father’s house, hoping the father would be merciful enough to treat him like a slave. It is this misguided expectation of unworthiness that make the father’s embrace so powerful. Just when he thought he could not escape his bad decisions, he felt his father’s arms wrapping around him, and the cloak on his shoulders and the ring on his finger.
The story of the father and his two sons tells us something very powerful and even controversial about love: that it does not keep record of wrongs. The older son’s indignation brings this out all the way, when he protests his father’s celebration of the younger son. Many times we like to identify more with the older son, who follows the rules. However, if we are truthful with ourselves, we can see how we have become the younger son, returning to our Heavenly Father after a long stint of wayward wandering. May we continue to experience God’s gracious love, which does not count our wrongs against us, and remember to extend that grace to the other prodigal sons and daughters all around us.
Prayer: Heavenly Father, we are truly prodigal. We have turned away from you, squandering our inheritance. We ask for your gracious love that keeps no record of our wrongs, and instead rejoices when we find our way back home. Help us to treat others with a similar love, which sees people for more than the sum total of their mistakes. We praise you for the grace you give us to give to others. Amen.
-Zach Hutchinson
Luke 15:11-32
‘…We had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’
Nowadays, it seems like a person can find out almost everything about someone else online. Between Google searches and Facebook profiles, there is information on nearly everyone. It is to a point that folks go out of their way to opt out of information tracking systems, and try as hard as they can to keep their personal information to themselves. I recently read a novel where the author imagined a not-so-distant future in which everything everyone did was public knowledge, with every angle of the world being recorded and streamed and monitored, so that everyone was ‘transparent’. Needless to say, it was a somewhat unsettling story.
There is a fear we have at having our information out there for anyone to access. Surely, identity theft has become a legitimate threat, but even beyond that, we are reluctant to expose our pasts to people, because many times when we think about our past, we zero in on our mistakes, our missteps, and our poor decisions. When we think about the past, even amidst a slew of happy and joyous memories, a regret can stand out like a fly in a glass of milk. It seems like the good times in our lives have almost as many times we’d rather forget. Times when we said the wrong thing, or showed up too late, or didn’t stand up for ourselves when we should have.
We are afraid and embarrassed by these histories because they remind us of our humanity, of our finitude, and of our imperfection. Somewhere deep down we might even believe that these past decisions and choices make us somehow lesser than, or unworthy of love. This was almost certainly what the Younger Son felt when he was journeying back to his father’s house, hoping the father would be merciful enough to treat him like a slave. It is this misguided expectation of unworthiness that make the father’s embrace so powerful. Just when he thought he could not escape his bad decisions, he felt his father’s arms wrapping around him, and the cloak on his shoulders and the ring on his finger.
The story of the father and his two sons tells us something very powerful and even controversial about love: that it does not keep record of wrongs. The older son’s indignation brings this out all the way, when he protests his father’s celebration of the younger son. Many times we like to identify more with the older son, who follows the rules. However, if we are truthful with ourselves, we can see how we have become the younger son, returning to our Heavenly Father after a long stint of wayward wandering. May we continue to experience God’s gracious love, which does not count our wrongs against us, and remember to extend that grace to the other prodigal sons and daughters all around us.
Prayer: Heavenly Father, we are truly prodigal. We have turned away from you, squandering our inheritance. We ask for your gracious love that keeps no record of our wrongs, and instead rejoices when we find our way back home. Help us to treat others with a similar love, which sees people for more than the sum total of their mistakes. We praise you for the grace you give us to give to others. Amen.
-Zach Hutchinson
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Wednesday – Love is Not Irritable or Resentful
Matthew 20:1-16
In our story for today, some workers come at the beginning of the work day, and agree with their supervisor to be paid a fair day’s wage. More workers come in mid-day and receive the same wage. And others come at the last, also receiving the same wage, and the workers who came at the beginning of the day complain at the injustice of being paid the same as those who came late in the day and only worked little. At the heart of the supervisor’s response is the question, “Are you envious because I am generous?”
Maybe this is a question we are faced with in our own lives from time to time, offended by generosity toward another instead of grateful that our neighbor has received such love. I think of my grandfathers, their very different lives, and the questions their paths through life have raised in my own family.
My mother’s dad was in the church from his youth, and knew from childhood that he would become a pastor as an adult. His whole life was devoted to ministry, and even after he’d retired from full-time ministry, he still filled in for other pastors regularly up until the time Alzheimer’s began to limit his abilities. In comparison, my dad’s step-dad Carl didn’t come to faith until the last six months of his life when it became apparent that his days were limited. Those six months of his Christian faithfulness consisted in praying daily and reading the Bible, which at first glance looks like nothing in comparison to the almost 60 years of Christian service my mom’s dad was able to offer to the church. They never knew one another well, were never fully aware of the differences from one another, but I do remember others in my mother’s family quietly noting the differences. But grace, the generosity of God’s love, stretched to both in equal measure.
What is at the heart of such envy when another receives lavish generosity? I wonder sometimes if it’s a fear we might have that generosity is limited – that for another to receive an abundance of generosity means that we necessarily experience scarcity as a result. And maybe seeing another receive beyond what their work merits, diminishes our own sense of being loved deeply. Somehow it causes us to feel worth less. But as it turns out, generosity, like kindness, stretches beyond what is expected and reasonable, to offer more. Love is never deserved. No one is ever worthy of love in the sense that something good in us makes us deserving of God’s love. The love of God is abundant, endless, and based upon God’s image created in us. Another’s good fortune doesn’t mean our lack. What we are offered is sufficient.
Where in your life has generosity to another provoked envy within you? How can you imagine entering into the abundance of God’s love and celebrating another’s benefit, instead of wallowing in resentment?
Prayer: God of abundant love, you have called us to yourself, and offered to us of your goodness in ways you deem just. Move us to gratitude when you love our neighbor well, and teach us to celebrate your generosity to all regardless of our sense of worthiness and deserving. Hear our envy as longing for greater measures of you, and meet us in our need with growing awareness of your generosity toward us. We want to love as you love. In Jesus, Amen.
-Shannon Schaefer
In our story for today, some workers come at the beginning of the work day, and agree with their supervisor to be paid a fair day’s wage. More workers come in mid-day and receive the same wage. And others come at the last, also receiving the same wage, and the workers who came at the beginning of the day complain at the injustice of being paid the same as those who came late in the day and only worked little. At the heart of the supervisor’s response is the question, “Are you envious because I am generous?”
Maybe this is a question we are faced with in our own lives from time to time, offended by generosity toward another instead of grateful that our neighbor has received such love. I think of my grandfathers, their very different lives, and the questions their paths through life have raised in my own family.
My mother’s dad was in the church from his youth, and knew from childhood that he would become a pastor as an adult. His whole life was devoted to ministry, and even after he’d retired from full-time ministry, he still filled in for other pastors regularly up until the time Alzheimer’s began to limit his abilities. In comparison, my dad’s step-dad Carl didn’t come to faith until the last six months of his life when it became apparent that his days were limited. Those six months of his Christian faithfulness consisted in praying daily and reading the Bible, which at first glance looks like nothing in comparison to the almost 60 years of Christian service my mom’s dad was able to offer to the church. They never knew one another well, were never fully aware of the differences from one another, but I do remember others in my mother’s family quietly noting the differences. But grace, the generosity of God’s love, stretched to both in equal measure.
What is at the heart of such envy when another receives lavish generosity? I wonder sometimes if it’s a fear we might have that generosity is limited – that for another to receive an abundance of generosity means that we necessarily experience scarcity as a result. And maybe seeing another receive beyond what their work merits, diminishes our own sense of being loved deeply. Somehow it causes us to feel worth less. But as it turns out, generosity, like kindness, stretches beyond what is expected and reasonable, to offer more. Love is never deserved. No one is ever worthy of love in the sense that something good in us makes us deserving of God’s love. The love of God is abundant, endless, and based upon God’s image created in us. Another’s good fortune doesn’t mean our lack. What we are offered is sufficient.
Where in your life has generosity to another provoked envy within you? How can you imagine entering into the abundance of God’s love and celebrating another’s benefit, instead of wallowing in resentment?
Prayer: God of abundant love, you have called us to yourself, and offered to us of your goodness in ways you deem just. Move us to gratitude when you love our neighbor well, and teach us to celebrate your generosity to all regardless of our sense of worthiness and deserving. Hear our envy as longing for greater measures of you, and meet us in our need with growing awareness of your generosity toward us. We want to love as you love. In Jesus, Amen.
-Shannon Schaefer
Monday, June 22, 2015
Tuesday – Love Does Not Insist on its Own Way
Mark 14: 32-36
They went to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.”
I remember where I was when I saw him. I was standing about 40 feet away from him, in line to play nine square with a bunch of excitable middle schoolers, and he was off by himself, alone in a crowd, absently bouncing a ball all by his lonesome. He was a camper and I was the counselor he had unknowingly tormented all week. He was loud and inappropriate in the cabin, unresponsive when being called, and nearly impossible to wrangle on to the next scheduled activity.
So when I saw him there all by himself, every logical fiber told me to ignore him, to just pretend I didn’t pity him or realize just how isolated he had become, not just from the other counselors, but even from the other campers who were tired of his antics by this point in the week. It was to the point that even as I left the nine-square line, I felt like my feet were carrying me to a place unknown, a rabbit hole where I wasn’t sure I’d have any patience or energy left to spend on this kid.
So we started slowly. Just bouncing the ball back and forth, not really talking. Bouncing on the ground turned into bouncing off our heads, which morphed into keeping track of how many head-bounces we could get in a row between us. A silly insignificant game, but he was focused and locked into it like I had never seen him before. He was happy and engaged, a drastic change from the bored aimlessness I noticed from across the room. Other kids tried to get in on the game, but I knew that this was something that was just for him and me. We had made a connection with each other, even in this small moment in time.
I thought maybe it was some fleeting memory that he would quickly forget, but as I watched his grandmother pick him up from the cabin the next day, he poked his head back through the door to tell me to not forget about our record. It was a small but powerful reminder, from a rambunctious and often ignored middle schooler, that we can never have our own notions about who deserves friendship and Christ’s love. Thinking back to before I walked over to this kid, my reluctance felt like a small shadow of Jesus in Gethsemane, pleading with God for any other way. But what Christ teaches us in this moment is that God’s love is not self-seeking or self-beneficial. Instead, it chooses the deeply right way; the way that is beyond our logics and grudges and pride. Love chooses the way towards servitude, toward the cross, and toward a lonely kid playing by himself.
Prayer: Dear God, we confess that we have chosen our own ways. We have turned a blind eye to loneliness and suffering in favor of our comfort and personal stability. Help us to choose the way of love, moving towards those that the world has cast aside. We give you thanks and praise for the way you chose to love us, through Jesus in the garden. May we always remember and repeat his words throughout our lives: “Not what I want, but what you want.” Amen.
-Zach Hutchinson
They went to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.”
I remember where I was when I saw him. I was standing about 40 feet away from him, in line to play nine square with a bunch of excitable middle schoolers, and he was off by himself, alone in a crowd, absently bouncing a ball all by his lonesome. He was a camper and I was the counselor he had unknowingly tormented all week. He was loud and inappropriate in the cabin, unresponsive when being called, and nearly impossible to wrangle on to the next scheduled activity.
So when I saw him there all by himself, every logical fiber told me to ignore him, to just pretend I didn’t pity him or realize just how isolated he had become, not just from the other counselors, but even from the other campers who were tired of his antics by this point in the week. It was to the point that even as I left the nine-square line, I felt like my feet were carrying me to a place unknown, a rabbit hole where I wasn’t sure I’d have any patience or energy left to spend on this kid.
So we started slowly. Just bouncing the ball back and forth, not really talking. Bouncing on the ground turned into bouncing off our heads, which morphed into keeping track of how many head-bounces we could get in a row between us. A silly insignificant game, but he was focused and locked into it like I had never seen him before. He was happy and engaged, a drastic change from the bored aimlessness I noticed from across the room. Other kids tried to get in on the game, but I knew that this was something that was just for him and me. We had made a connection with each other, even in this small moment in time.
I thought maybe it was some fleeting memory that he would quickly forget, but as I watched his grandmother pick him up from the cabin the next day, he poked his head back through the door to tell me to not forget about our record. It was a small but powerful reminder, from a rambunctious and often ignored middle schooler, that we can never have our own notions about who deserves friendship and Christ’s love. Thinking back to before I walked over to this kid, my reluctance felt like a small shadow of Jesus in Gethsemane, pleading with God for any other way. But what Christ teaches us in this moment is that God’s love is not self-seeking or self-beneficial. Instead, it chooses the deeply right way; the way that is beyond our logics and grudges and pride. Love chooses the way towards servitude, toward the cross, and toward a lonely kid playing by himself.
Prayer: Dear God, we confess that we have chosen our own ways. We have turned a blind eye to loneliness and suffering in favor of our comfort and personal stability. Help us to choose the way of love, moving towards those that the world has cast aside. We give you thanks and praise for the way you chose to love us, through Jesus in the garden. May we always remember and repeat his words throughout our lives: “Not what I want, but what you want.” Amen.
-Zach Hutchinson
Love is Kind!
Monday – Love is Kind
Luke 10:25-37
One December evening near dusk when I was around ten years old or so, my family was in our car on the way to a live nativity scene, when we were the first to arrive on the scene of an accident. In the ice and snow, two cars had collided and without witnesses. It was in a time before cell-phones were common, and I remember my dad pulling over and going to each car, before coming back to tell my mom to drive and find help, that he'd stay behind. I can't remember if we ever made it to the live nativity. What I do remember is the ambulance lights, my mom's breathed prayers, the long wait, and seeing my dad help first responders until the victims were safely on their way to the hospital.
You could say my dad was a Good Samaritan figure, and maybe that's half right. But as far as I remember, he never offered to pay hospital bills or even go visit the crash victims in the hospital the next day. In our day and age, such actions seem ridiculous, and far behind the expectations of human decency. I wonder what was considered human decency in gospel times. Maybe Jesus' point is that the priest and the Levite in this story fail at even human decency, while the kindness of the Samaritan exceeds it. He not only stops for the half-dead man on the side of the road, but sacrifices materially of his own resources for him.
Kindness is an above and beyond sort of affair, action outside the realm of the expected, and self-sacrificing at its core. It's senseless, you might say, because it isn't gainful or for the purpose of anything other than relentlessly pursuing the good of another. Our culture teaches us to be nice - and by this, we mean polite, or humanly decent. But kindness in comparison is intentionally loving action, directed by the Holy Spirit, a thoughtfulness toward the needs of another, which goes beyond niceness. Kindness requires paying attention - a commitment to see a person, listen for what is most longed for or needed, and then act decisively. It could be cleaning up tornado damage, or something more daily and closer to home. Sometimes loving our neighbor means the one who shares our breakfast table every morning.
Jesus' last words to the lawyer who tests him are, "Go and do likewise." Spend time today in listening prayer for how you might act in the way of the good Samaritan. Toward whom and how will you live out kindness?
Prayer: Jesus, you who were moved to pity when we were half-dead and in need of your loving kindness, we open the ears of our heart to listen for your Spirit, prompting us to do as you have done for us. Form us into the ones who will show our neighbor mercy through your power working in us. Equip us with courage for the task ahead. Amen.
-Shannon Schaefer
Luke 10:25-37
One December evening near dusk when I was around ten years old or so, my family was in our car on the way to a live nativity scene, when we were the first to arrive on the scene of an accident. In the ice and snow, two cars had collided and without witnesses. It was in a time before cell-phones were common, and I remember my dad pulling over and going to each car, before coming back to tell my mom to drive and find help, that he'd stay behind. I can't remember if we ever made it to the live nativity. What I do remember is the ambulance lights, my mom's breathed prayers, the long wait, and seeing my dad help first responders until the victims were safely on their way to the hospital.
You could say my dad was a Good Samaritan figure, and maybe that's half right. But as far as I remember, he never offered to pay hospital bills or even go visit the crash victims in the hospital the next day. In our day and age, such actions seem ridiculous, and far behind the expectations of human decency. I wonder what was considered human decency in gospel times. Maybe Jesus' point is that the priest and the Levite in this story fail at even human decency, while the kindness of the Samaritan exceeds it. He not only stops for the half-dead man on the side of the road, but sacrifices materially of his own resources for him.
Kindness is an above and beyond sort of affair, action outside the realm of the expected, and self-sacrificing at its core. It's senseless, you might say, because it isn't gainful or for the purpose of anything other than relentlessly pursuing the good of another. Our culture teaches us to be nice - and by this, we mean polite, or humanly decent. But kindness in comparison is intentionally loving action, directed by the Holy Spirit, a thoughtfulness toward the needs of another, which goes beyond niceness. Kindness requires paying attention - a commitment to see a person, listen for what is most longed for or needed, and then act decisively. It could be cleaning up tornado damage, or something more daily and closer to home. Sometimes loving our neighbor means the one who shares our breakfast table every morning.
Jesus' last words to the lawyer who tests him are, "Go and do likewise." Spend time today in listening prayer for how you might act in the way of the good Samaritan. Toward whom and how will you live out kindness?
Prayer: Jesus, you who were moved to pity when we were half-dead and in need of your loving kindness, we open the ears of our heart to listen for your Spirit, prompting us to do as you have done for us. Form us into the ones who will show our neighbor mercy through your power working in us. Equip us with courage for the task ahead. Amen.
-Shannon Schaefer
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Sunday, Arriving in Edenton, NC to begin our week
LOVE IS…
These devotionals are based on the description of love in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. Join us this week as we explore the nature of God’s love, given to us and working through us.
Sunday – Love is Patient
John 21:15-17
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”
I suffer from a condition that has plagued me since early on in life, since about the time I could hold a conversation. This ailment is known as Foot-in-Mouth Disease. It’s when the words that I speak cause immediate personal embarrassment, regret, and scorn from anyone within earshot. The condition can strike at a moment’s notice, and there is currently no known cure, only preventative measures. Side effects include repeated apologizing, increased awareness of God’s grace, and newfound humility and caution when speaking to anyone about anything.
I would like to imagine that Peter had an early iteration of this disease, for which he was all but directly diagnosed in the Gospels. Peter’s words are consistently getting him into trouble, and none more regretful than when he is asked if he is an associate of the recently arrested Jesus. Peter infamously denies any knowledge or connections to Jesus not once, not twice, but three times, out of fear of being similarly persecuted. All this after he tells Jesus directly that he would never do such a thing! This is a textbook case of Foot-in-Mouth Disease!
It is this previous episode that makes the above passage so powerful. Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves Him, which equal the number of times Peter denied Jesus. In this way, Jesus restores Peter’s standing and forgives him for his Foot-in-Mouth moments. Jesus is patient enough with Peter to forgive him, and provides Peter with a way to demonstrate the love he once denied but now claims. Jesus tells Peter to feed His sheep, which we understand to mean those that Jesus cares for: the last, the least, and the lost of this world. The love of God, demonstrated through the words of Jesus is patient with us, patient enough to wait for us to answer the question, “Do you love me?” even when we have turned our backs and averted our eyes so many times before. This love patiently restores us and sends us out, trusting us to feed God’s people with the same love that has been graciously given to us.
Prayer: LORD, we have denied you, and we ask for your forgiveness. Thank you for being so very patient with us, as we say one thing, do another, and then profess our love for you all over again. Give us humility and grace to continue to feed your sheep, and care for the world the way you care for us: with patient love. Amen.
-Zach Hutchinson
These devotionals are based on the description of love in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. Join us this week as we explore the nature of God’s love, given to us and working through us.
Sunday – Love is Patient
John 21:15-17
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”
I suffer from a condition that has plagued me since early on in life, since about the time I could hold a conversation. This ailment is known as Foot-in-Mouth Disease. It’s when the words that I speak cause immediate personal embarrassment, regret, and scorn from anyone within earshot. The condition can strike at a moment’s notice, and there is currently no known cure, only preventative measures. Side effects include repeated apologizing, increased awareness of God’s grace, and newfound humility and caution when speaking to anyone about anything.
I would like to imagine that Peter had an early iteration of this disease, for which he was all but directly diagnosed in the Gospels. Peter’s words are consistently getting him into trouble, and none more regretful than when he is asked if he is an associate of the recently arrested Jesus. Peter infamously denies any knowledge or connections to Jesus not once, not twice, but three times, out of fear of being similarly persecuted. All this after he tells Jesus directly that he would never do such a thing! This is a textbook case of Foot-in-Mouth Disease!
It is this previous episode that makes the above passage so powerful. Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves Him, which equal the number of times Peter denied Jesus. In this way, Jesus restores Peter’s standing and forgives him for his Foot-in-Mouth moments. Jesus is patient enough with Peter to forgive him, and provides Peter with a way to demonstrate the love he once denied but now claims. Jesus tells Peter to feed His sheep, which we understand to mean those that Jesus cares for: the last, the least, and the lost of this world. The love of God, demonstrated through the words of Jesus is patient with us, patient enough to wait for us to answer the question, “Do you love me?” even when we have turned our backs and averted our eyes so many times before. This love patiently restores us and sends us out, trusting us to feed God’s people with the same love that has been graciously given to us.
Prayer: LORD, we have denied you, and we ask for your forgiveness. Thank you for being so very patient with us, as we say one thing, do another, and then profess our love for you all over again. Give us humility and grace to continue to feed your sheep, and care for the world the way you care for us: with patient love. Amen.
-Zach Hutchinson
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