Do you love me?
Christie Gilfeather
At the end of John's gospel, in chapter 21, Jesus asks Peter three times 'do you love me?'
It is a question that cuts to the heart of our faith. In the season of Lent, when we spend time pondering our sin and our deep need of forgiveness and restoration, there is no question more important.
But this Lent is different. The pandemic has made us keenly aware that we are 'but dust'. Our frailty and fragility is on display alongside our failure and sin.
'Do you love me?' Jesus asks each of us.
During the latter part of our journey through Holy Week, we will hear of Peter's denial of Jesus.
Three times he is asked if he is a companion of Jesus, and three times he denies it. The cock crows. He remembers Jesus foretelling of exactly this event. He weeps.
The bitterness of feeling that you have let yourself, those you love and God down is particularly cutting. Most of us have borne the weight of this feeling some time in our lives. Perhaps in this season of Lent we are dwelling with a particularly powerful memory of failure.
'Do you love me?' Jesus continues to ask us.
The denial is certainly the lowest moment that we read about in Peter's story, and he would be forgiven for thinking that there was no coming back from his denial.
Jesus, however, knew differently.
In John 21 Jesus arrives on a beach while some of his disciples are fishing in the nearby water. He builds a fire, prepares a breakfast of fish and bread. At the same time, he multiplies the yield of their fishing excursion to the point of overwhelming abundance.
Our faith is one which is focussed on several abundances. God's love, mercy and forgiveness are abundant. His mercies are new every morning, or if you like, every breakfast time.
At this particular breakfast, Jesus asks Peter 'do you love me?'
Three times he asks. One for each denial - each one wiped away with Peter's assertion that, yes, he does love Jesus. Each one unburdening Peter of the great failure of his great denial.
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Pandemics are hard. Lent is hard. Lent in a pandemic is harder.
It is good for us to dwell fully in this period of fasting and praying, remembering that we are 'but dust'. But, in this particular moment, perhaps we need to hold the abundance of God's love and forgiveness which is for us closer than usual in the season of Lent.
The events we have seen in the last year have reminded us in no uncertain terms that we are 'but dust'. Lives lost in numbers beyond comprehension remind us of this inescapable reality.
In many ways, we have experienced a period of perpetual Lent over the last year.
On this journey, then, take extra sustenance for the road. Linger a little longer at breakfast before turning toward the darkness and difficulty of Calvary. Both are present to us. Both are necessary. In both places Jesus continues to ask us 'do you love me?' and both help us to move toward a 'yes Lord', said with our whole hearts.
