This season of uncertainty and unpredictability prompted my curiosity about the response of various friends of Jesus to the shock wave of the last week of Jesus’ life. How did they experience Easter morning’s disruption of the haze of grief and loss they were stumbling in? The familiar things that framed their comfort zone had been violently shifted.
Peter experienced a catalog of post-resurrection responses, as probably all of the disciples did. How could they not have contradicting feelings and uncharacteristic reactions as they sorted out their memories and the “new normal”?
I’m especially drawn to Peter’s admission that he was ready to get back to what was predictable, manageable, and safe. Yes. My kind of life. A homebody at heart, I experience a delightful sensation at the end of travel, heading home to my space, my timetable, my preferences.
“I’m going fishing,” Peter announced one afternoon.
“We’ll go with you,” several fellow disciples responded.
I suspect they were all feeling a little upended with the recent weeks’ unpredictable, random schedule. Unannounced, Jesus might pop in for a late-night chat. It was wonderful to share those times, but they were a bit unnerving as well. You never knew when he would show up.
Fishing. The pre-planned, we-can-do-this, physical work felt really good for a change. The Sea of Galilee and the routine were familiar, not as outside-the-box and sort of haphazard as the recent activity calendar had been offering.
It was an all-nighter, and the friends were together. Maybe it felt a little strange to be doing this kind of work after the amazing, stimulating, mind-bending experiences they had had with Jesus, but it was familiar. And safe. Even if their nets remained empty. All. Night. Long.
Then through the early dawning hazy brightness, an indistinct figure could be seen, and a friendly voice from the beach asked if they had anything to eat.
“Well, no. It was a rather un-spectacular night in terms of fishing, but…,” and John said in a behind-the-hand, loud whisper to Peter, “It’s the Lord!”
Could Jesus’ question have been about Peter’s desire for life to be predictable and sane again?
What?! He would show up right now – and see our rusty fishing skills on display. By then the man on the beach had come into view. And the conversation developed into an invitation to breakfast as well as a fishnet overflowing with large fish. Perhaps Peter wished his bungling efforts to do the right thing wouldn’t be so obviously lacking “the right thing.”
The seaside breakfast conversation rounded a corner when Jesus turned to Peter and asked, “Do you love me more than these?”
The question doesn’t indicate which “these” Jesus was talking about. More than the other disciples? The boat and fishing gear? The wonderful, marketable catch of fish? Maybe it’s best the question isn’t so definitely directed because it’s for all of us. Could Jesus’ question have been about Peter’s desire for life to be predictable and sane again? Was he asking Peter to trade in the certainty of knowing the next day’s agenda and a secure income, in exchange for the uncertainty and plain, hard work of feeding unpredictable sheep and caring for a world that could never be put into nice categories and fit onto a calendar? For sure, Jesus’ life had upended Peter’s life. These years together had stolen his careful, safe career. “Do you love me more than these?” Peter had pondered this very choice over the last crazy weeks, and especially during the night hours in the fish-empty boat. “Yes, Lord. You know that I love you.”
Jesus responded, “Love me by letting me have your calendar and your heart.”
“These?”
Precisely.
