Peter’s Reinstatement

Share

Peter was downcast after the initial joy of Jesus’ resurrection. He couldn’t forget that he had denied Jesus after boasting of his loyalty. Even though Jesus had anticipated his desertion, Peter knew he could no longer expect to be part of the new kingdom Jesus told them about. Like the other disciples, he still expected Jesus to seize power, oust the Romans, and make Israel great again. But for Peter there would no longer be a place at court on Jesus’ right or left hand. He had failed in the time of trial. He had proved disloyal and untrustworthy.

Peter still knew how to fish. So he returned to what he knew, and some of the other disciples went with him. Though not plagued with the same sense of failure, they did not know what was going to happen, and they needed to work to occupy their hands and thoughts. They spent the night fishing but caught nothing. In the morning, they saw Jesus standing on the shore of the lake, but they did not realize it was him.

Friends,” he called to them. “Don’t you have any fish.”

“No,” they answered.

He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because there were so many fish.

Then John said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” As soon as Peter heard him say, “It is the Lord,” he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water. The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were only about 100 yards from shore. When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish already on it, and some bread.

Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you have just caught.” So Simon Peter climbed back into the boat and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.

After they ate, Jesus took Peter aside and asked him, “Peter, do you love me more than these?”

Yes, of course, Lord,” said Peter. “You know that I love you.”

Feed my lambs,” said Jesus. Then he asked again, “Peter, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord. You know that I love you,” Peter replied.

“Take care of my sheep,” said Jesus. Then he asked yet again, “Peter, do you like me?”

Peter was hurt that the Lord had asked the third time, “Do you like me?” He thought back on the years they had spent together, the wonders he had seen this man do, the conviction that had inexorably stolen over his heart that this man was somehow God. He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I like you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my sheep. Truly I tell you, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old, you will feel your way, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” Then he said to him in that no-nonsense tone Peter knew so well, “Follow me!”

Could it be true? Was Jesus really telling him that he still had a place for him? Wasn’t there someone else better suited to the task Jesus had in mind. He could see John obviously eavesdropping nearby. “What about him?” he asked Jesus.

If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me.” Jesus replied.

Then Peter knew. He knew beyond doubt. Jesus had urged all the disciples to believe in him, and Peter had. His faith in Jesus had saved him, but what transformed him was Jesus’ faith in him.

Share
Posted in faith, jesus, love, resurrection, salvation, trust | Leave a comment

Taking God Literally

Share

Listening to the gospel of John over the past couple of days it struck me how often Jesus was misunderstood and how little he did to make himself clear. Moreover, those who misunderstood him almost always did so through taking what he said literally. When he drove the moneychangers out of the temple, he told his critics, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will rebuild it.”

“This building has been under construction for 46 years, but you will rebuild it in 3 days?”

Not even his disciples understood him. John lets his readers know what it all meant, but in doing so, he lets slip that no one got it until after Jesus rose from the dead. Jesus makes no effort to explain that he was talking about the temple of his body, but it became a part of Paul’s teaching later on.

Later, Nicodemus reveals his own ignorance in taking Jesus’ talk about being born again as a literal rebirth. “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus has to break it down for him. “Flesh gives birth to flesh, and spirit gives birth to spirit.” He was talking about a spiritual birth that would open Nicodemus’ eyes to spiritual truth. Paul picks up on this too.

The woman at the well supposes that the living water Jesus talks of giving her will make daily trips to the well unnecessary. He has to explain to her that he is talking about something spiritual. He tells her that God is on the look out for people who will worship him “in spirit and in truth” rather than worshiping in a particular place—and by doing so segregating themselves into “mountain worshipers” and “temple worshipers.”

A couple of chapters further on, Jesus tells the crowds following him that they must eat his flesh and drink his blood. To make matters worse, he sounds as if he wants to be taken literally: “My flesh is real food, and my blood is real drink,” he explains. What kind of crazy talk is this? Is Jesus recommending cannibalism? Many disciples abandon Jesus at this point. They can’t make sense of what he is saying. But the Twelve stick with him, not because they understand him any better, but because they trust him anyway.

Again and again, Jesus says things that his hearers try to shoehorn into a literal interpretation. Again and again, Jesus either leaves them to try and work it out for themselves or patiently explains that he’s talking about spiritual things. When Philip insists that Jesus show them the Father, Jesus sounds really disappointed. You can almost hear him say, “Really, Phil? I’ve been showing you the Father this whole time. How can you even say that?”

Even when he is facing Pilate, Jesus continues to use metaphorical language, although he is careful to explain it to the gentile.

So, what does all this mean? I think it calls into question how much we really understand of God’s word when we insist on taking it literally. Jesus insisted that God’s word is true, but the truth he was interested in was not whether 2 million Israelites could really survive in the desert for 40 years or whether Jonah could really survive for three days in the belly of a big fish. No, the truth he was interested in was the revelation of God’s character: his love and faithfulness and righteousness. The truth that the world needs to hear is that God loves them and has good plans for them if they will only turn from trying to do everything themselves and making a mess of things. They don’t need to hear our unscientific theories about how God could have created the world in a literal six days. They need to hear Jesus say, “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

Share
Posted in faith, jesus, love, spirit, theology | Leave a comment

Family Stories

Share

I grew up with stories my mom told about her own childhood. Most of them were oft repeated, yet they were more like parables than stories with a plot, characters, and a central conflict. Nevertheless, I’m reluctant to just let those stories fade away. They form a part of the backdrop to my own childhood. They carry a meaning, at least for me, that goes beyond the simple events they often recount. So I plan to tell some of them, as much as I can remember of them.

My mom was born Iva Lorraine Green, the first girl after four boys. Her older brothers were Marshall (named after her dad), Herman, Hershel, and David. She had two younger sisters, Emogene and Donna. As the first girl, she got teased a lot by her brothers and had to shoulder the responsibilities of “women’s work” on the farm as soon as she was old enough to stand at the sink and scrub dishes or boil water on the stove. Her brothers used to have real pissing contests. They would take turns pissing on the side of the barn. The one who could make his mark highest would win. I can imagine Iva, her green-eyed round face framed in dark curls, peeking around the corner of the barn to watch them. On the farm, there wasn’t much place for the prudishness of city life. She saw hogs castrated, kittens drowned, chickens butchered – all the normal business of farm life so foreign to urban and suburban dwellers.

I don’t know how old she was when Hershel was killed. It may even have happened before she was born, or she may have been too young to remember it. Herman and Hershel had been out sledding. They were on their way home, Herman trudging along the country road to their home, pulling Hershel on the sled. A car came hurtling over the hill. The driver, a neighbor who was drunk, did not see the sled with Hershel on it. He ran it over, killing Hershel. Herman blamed himself the way children do when anything bad happens.

Some time later—months or years, I do not know—Herman developed appendicitis. It’s a condition that runs in my family. Some of my siblings and some of my children have had it. Like them, Herman endured the pain uncomplainingly far longer than most people do. By the time he acknowledged being in pain, it was too late to get him to a hospital. His appendix burst. Before he died, he cried out to those around him, “I see Hershel and the angels coming for me.” I’m sure that this is one of the incidents that made Iva so certain of her faith in later life.

I think Iva was in fifth grade when she first saw Chuck, a boy a couple of years older who went to the same school. I don’t know know where or how they first met. At one point she was at a school program with her parents. She turned to her mother and said, “You see that curly headed boy in the second row? I’m going to marry him some day.” That boy was my father. They fell in love in high school, and she quit school to marry him when she was only sixteen. They eloped to Kentucky, where she didn’t need parental permission to marry. She still needed to be eighteen, though, so she wrote the number 18 on a slip of paper and put it in her shoe, all so she could claim without technically lying that she was “over eighteen.”

While Chuck and Iva were dating, they went with some friends to a swimming hole in a nearby river. Anyone who has ever gone swimming in a river knows that the water is not clear, especially after a few swimmers have stirred up the muck from the bottom of the river. Another feature of river swimming is that one was sometimes joined by other swimming creatures, particularly snakes. Iva wore a modest, black swimsuit with a top that tied around her neck. As she was swimming, she saw a long, black ribbon slither by in the water near her. Screaming in horror, she jumped up out of the water only to find that the top of her swimsuit had come undone. With every eye on her, she ducked back into the water to put her swimsuit top back on.

One of Chuck’s classmates, another boy named Ray, also admired Iva. The three of them went on a hayride together along with other friends. Snuggled down in the hay, Chuck reached his arm around Iva. Ray likewise reached his hand toward Iva, hoping to hold her hand without anyone noticing. Instead his hand met Chuck’s, and he grabbed it thinking it was Iva’s. Chuck and Ray held hands through the whole hayride, Chuck never letting on that he knew the hand he was holding was Ray’s.

These are some of the stories I heard from my mom during my childhood. They were told over and over, so I’m sure my brothers and sisters also remember them. My dad will also recognize them. I invite them along with Donna and Emogene to comment, share other stories they might know, and correct me where I’m wrong.

 

Share
Posted in about me | 5 Comments