A Come to Jesus Meeting
Scripture: 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.
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This interaction, I think, is where we must get the idea of a Come To Jesus Meeting because Jesus invited Peter to the first one. This is a passage that connects us, if we let it, to the notion of accountability. Jesus, of course, the master of this kind of hard meeting, hosts Peter, his long time disciple on the beach (so, note to self: take your hard meetings to a great setting). Jesus is on the beach calling the disciples ashore, making breakfast and a bonfire and, just when everything seems like nothing happened at all - no betrayal and no denial, no crucifixion and no resurrection - Jesus leans in and asks Peter, “Do you love me?” Peter, of course, says, “you know that I do,” but Jesus (if you read between the lines) gives him a look that sounds like… “doooo I?” and then asks again, “Simon, Son of John, do you love me?”
It would have been possible for Jesus to let it go. I would have said, “well Peter, it was a rough time (the crucifixion). I’m a little concerned about the whole denial thing, but let’s just move forward.” Maybe the Mediterranean is less conflict avoidant or maybe Jesus is always flexing his nerves of steel and reminding us how little he worries about what people think of him when he is doing God’s work. Regardless of the reason, Jesus dives right in. He does not shy away from the hard conversation that must be had nor does he write Peter off and say, "you have tried really hard, but you keep making mistakes. Look at all these memos in your file, this just isn’t a good fit, keep fishing.” Jesus requires accountability and Peter responds in the way that most of us would, he feels hurt.
Peter feels hurt first and foremost, probably because Jesus is calling him “Simon, Son of John.” I don’t know if this is the equivalence of your mom using your middle name, but I do know it is formal. The only other time in the Gospel of John that Jesus says “Simon, Son of John” is in the very first Chapter of John. It is at this point where Jesus meets Simon and give him his more famous nickname of “Peter.” It is a name linked to rock and sometimes it’s rock like dense when it comes to Peter’s learning curve with Jesus. He tries so hard and is strikingly earnest; bold in both his mistakes and his successes as a disciple. He left his fishing boat and traveled, witnessed healing and feasting and challenge to the status quo. He even tried this work himself, made mistakes, and received grace. But the story is growing to its climax and Jesus begins to prepare the disciples for the danger they face with each step toward Jerusalem. They will betray and deny him, they will be scared and scattered. Peter, with all the earnest enthusiasm of Will Ferrell’s Elf responds, “Oh no Jesus I will not betray you. I will not deny you. I will be right there for it all.” Except unlike Elf, and just like most of us, Peter is nowhere to be found when the fecal matter hits the rotary oscillator.
In fact, Peter betrays Jesus three times during the ordeal leading to his crucifixion and death. And in the morning when Mary discovers the tomb is empty, Peter and the beloved disciple join her by racing to the tomb and seem to say, “Yep, you’re right Mary, he is gone.” They seem to shrug and leave Mary to tend to the search for answers and head off like they had something more important to do or I don’t know…brunch reservations. Then Mary preaches the first Easter sermon of resurrection and Jesus shows up to the disciples. They were gathered in a locked room, the fear palpable, and Jesus shows up. Except Thomas wasn’t there (he missed the meeting) and Jesus comes back a second time in these hazy resurrection encounters and, if nothing else, seals the “Doubting Thomas” nickname in history. Peter has heard from Mary and they witness some experience of Easter Jesus not once, but twice, and in the final verses of John, he still says, “I’m going fishing.”
“I’m going fishing.” Sounds harmless…to us. To us, going fishing is about relaxing or self-care after a rough week (which trial, betrayal, crucifixion and resurrection definitely count as rough). For Peter, this is not hobby or sport or meditation; it’s vocation. Peter says, “I’m going fishing” and he means “I am done and I am going back to everything I knew before Jesus.” Peter met Jesus and stopped fishing. He left his nets and journeyed with this wondering Rabbi, learning and feeding and healing and teaching. Peter is going back to before anything changed and, not only that, he is brining others with him. This is where they meet Jesus again. The small fishing crew of disciples are having no luck. Jesus calls to them, gives them instructions to lower the nets on the other side of the boat and suddenly they have so many fish they can’t raise the net and pull in their catch. Peter calls out knowing it’s Jesus, puts on his clothes (which is a whole other sermon) and then, in true Peter fashion, jumps in the water to swim to Jesus. He can’t wait for his friends, he can’t wait to pull the boat to the shore, he senses Jesus and just jumps in. This resurrection encounter does something for Peter the others must not have. Jesus taking charge of the happenings tells the disciples to bring the fish ashore and they have a beach breakfast around the campfire.
This is where the cameras zoom in and the intensity rises. Jesus looks at Peter. The smell of breakfast and the sounds of the shore surround them and Jesus says, “Simon, Son of John, do you love me?” Jesus asks three times and he uses his formal name, but it must have startled Peter, reminding him that the relationship is starting over. Do you love me? Feed my lambs. Do you love me? Tend my sheep. Do you love me? Feed my sheep. Peter feels hurt and responds, “you know that I do.” But Jesus keeps asking Peter because love doesn’t look like denying me in my trauma of crucifixion. Love does not look like shrugging and leaving Mary at the tomb and love doesn’t look like “I’m going fishing.”
Oh, acceptability is hard. Jesus puts it right there and reminds Peter that love is expressed in action. Jesus could have let it go and enjoyed reconnecting on the beach or he could have just let Peter go after all the struggles to learn. But Jesus invents the Come To Jesus Meeting during a beach breakfast by reminding Peter that love looks like action; love looks like tending, feeding and nurturing the flock. Jesus has embodied this principle image from the Hebrew Bible and following him means doing the same. The Good Shepherd tends the flock. They lead with the sing-song call of their voice rather than force, they guide rather than prod, they bind the wounds and they find the lost, they can even make a sheep lay down in a green pasture. Sheep must have food, water and feel safe to rest. The shepherd does all of this and when it is time to sleep, they bring the flock into a pen and lay their very body at the gate. With their very being, the shepherds say to the predators who want to steal, kill and destroy, “you must come through me.” Jesus reminds Peter of everything they know from their faith. Good leaders are good shepherds. There is a beautiful Midrash where the Rabbis tell the story of David letting the smallest sheep graze first, then the larger sheep, and finally, the largest of the flock out last to graze so that the most vulnerable could be filled first. In this moment, God sees David as the one who is right to be king. Being a Good Shepherd means caring for the vulnerable and showing up when it is hard, being a Good Shepherd means tending, feeding and nurturing. And Jesus knows it is too important to brush under the rug. Jesus holds Peter accountable and reminds him that love means answering yes with your life.
This week we have watched a national conversation around accountability during the second impeachment trial of Donald Trump. We have witnessed a moment by moment accounting of people attacking our Capitol; with intention of harm, weapons of destruction, words of hate and symbols of the Christian faith. Accountability is hard and we are confronted by the reality that Twitter and high dollar lawsuits from voting machine companies will demand more accountability than the very representatives whose lives were at risk. Jesus says, “do you love me?” to Peter and we seem to be going with “no worries, that’s okay.” Will there be any real accountability? Because without it, we cannot grow, we cannot move forward.
I worry about the Christian faith on display in our violent history and the language around “this is a Christian nation.” I worry because, in part, folks use this language to exclude others to name our faith as a domination system, like the representative demanding leaders of other faiths be sworn in on the Christian Bible. But I worry most of all that if we say we are a Christian nation, Jesus can ask us for an account. “Do you love me, America?” And we might say, “Yes Lord, you know that we do.” We might even point to our crosses and churches and Sunday parades and Jesus would ask us once more.
Do you love me? Some of our neighbors go to sleep without shelter in the bitter cold, while others have homes with bedrooms a plenty and not just one home, but two or even three.
Do you love me? Yes, but like, some folks just need a little more financial discipline.
Do you love me? Families are separated at our southern boarder and most of us would fall into utter despair waiting to reunite with our children.
Do you love me? Yes, but they shouldn’t have come here.
Do you love me? We have insurance companies set up to profit and not just a little on our healthcare, they are paid first before a single doctor or nurse, we have medical debt and healthcare by Go Fund Me. Do you love me? Oh yes, but only enough to host a church spaghetti feed for one family.
Do you love me? We choose prisons for profit over investment in public schools. We choose guns over safety. We choose tax breaks despite mountains of evidence that it won’t trickle down and when it comes to black lives and now even “blue lives” mattering, we choose white supremacy.
Do you love me? No. We love money and power, weapons and greed, we love controlling bodies other than our own and are comfortable with misogyny. We love bullies and big shots and tackles and take downs. We love thinking we pulled ourselves up and handing out bootstraps rather than making life abundant for all. We love stuff and shopping and consumption, no matter the real cost. We love one time heroics over the safety-nets we all need. We love keeping the ‘peace’ even if we lose ourselves and swallow our anger or quiet our response to the world’s heartbreak and violence. We love a toxic Christianity and self-righteous jerks pedaling easy answers as though they are God’s honest truth.
Accountability is hard. And we gather knowing that Jesus asks us still, “Do you love me?” He asks with love and grace, because we are made to answer yes with every beat of our heart and every pulse in our veins. Do you love me requires action, courage and grace to answer and he will not be satisfied by our words. Love is action. Love is growth and love requires that everything must change. “Do you love me?” he asks, again and again until we, with our whole lives, answer “yes.”