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Peter's heartFriday, April 5, 2013
John 21:7 I had very little say to them. All night my mind was only half on the boat; the rest of me remembered over and over how afraid I was when strangers said, "I know you. You are one of them. You follow Jesus." "NO!" I shouted. My voice choked on the word, but it came anyway, not just once but three times. How could Jesus have known? When he reappeared he looked at me and looked at me, and I couldn't stand it. Now he has returned, but I still feel so small and worthless, just a worm, as he celebrates with us. And yet ... the unknown wise guy on the shore, telling us to keep fishing in the empty waters, turns out to be him. And, of course, the fish rush to be part of this catch. They live for nothing more than to give themselves to Jesus. To Jesus' disciples. To Jesus' very-unworthy-and-least-likely-to-succeed-disciple. To me. And I can't help myself. I rush for shore when they recognize him. I am not walking on water this time, but running wild in the waves. My heart beats so fast. I cannot take my eyes off Jesus. He is smiling. He is making us breakfast. I can rest in this place, Jesus, with you, leaning on your shoulder. I have done that so often in three years. We all leaned on you and watched to see how you live, so we can live that way. I learned to relax and sleep by watching you sleep in storms. I learned to trust by watching you feed thousands with crumbs of bread and a fish or two. I learned to speak by watching you wait, while your Father filled your mind with words. You fed us with so much more than fish. Now my soul is full. |
I didn't want them to come with me. I needed to be alone on my fishing boat, spend the night in my own way. Jesus had his way to pray; I have mine. But no, they insisted on coming along, and then with all the commotion on the boat, we caught nothing. I did not find peace, and we caught nothing.