When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?”
“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”
Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you truly love me?”
He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”
The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.
--John's Gospel, 21:15-17
Sunday again. Wonder why it is that Sunday always sets my heart to the Big Questions. Church questions.
Last night, we listened as two young men gave testimony. It began as a story of life given to Christ, then ended as a reflection on the tragic school shooting that took place in Chardon, Ohio, a couple weeks ago.
We were reminded again that this was a real event, that it happened right here, in our own backyard, to real people with real faces-- and real tears.
We were reminded again that their bodies may be bigger, but inside, they still have the loving hearts of children, hearts that can be broken so easily, and they still want to believe their world is a good, safe place.
We were reminded again that life has no reset button. It goes on, but the pain lingers, long after the news cameras have gone away, long after the funerals, long after the outside world has stopped peeking pruriently between the blinds to see what's happening.
We were reminded again that even with the love of Christ, life can be nearly unbearable at times.
And one brave young man, in no uncertain terms, reminded us-- again-- that Jesus entrusted us to one another's care, not just for a week or a month, but until he returns.
If we love our Lord as we profess, there are sheep we are called to feed. Some are in distant flocks and faraway pastures, but some are right here, across town or across the street.
"Peter, do you truly love me?"
Peter was hurt, confused, even, that Jesus had to ask if he truly loved him.
But when Jesus returned to the Twelve, there they were, returning to their lives as though Jesus had never walked among them. These men whom Jesus had called, promising to make them "fishers of men," were up to their knees in the water, casting their nets-- for fish.
How quickly we forget, how quickly we want to get back to our tidy lives. A faith walk can be sooooo messy.
The lives of these young people at Chardon High and in nearby communities will never, ever be the same.
How long shall we continue to pray for these children, for their teachers and families? A week? A month? Maybe a year?
How long did Jesus entrust his sheep to Peter?
"You are Peter, the Rock, upon whom I will build my church." And for the rest of his life, Peter the Rock fed sheep. And he led others to the pasture, helped them find their place in this flock of the beloved Master. Never stopped, never tired.
Now-- it's our turn.
It's our turn to gather a tired or troubled lamb into our arms and our hearts, our turn to feed and comfort him, help her regain her footing, lift them from the treacherous ravines into which they may accidentally stumble.
It's our turn to assure them that while their world has been rocked to its core, the foundation remains unshaken and secure. The cornerstone, the Lord Jesus Christ, is still on his throne.
It's our turn and our time to be the hands, the feet and the ever-loving arms of Christ to all who are weak or heavy-burdened, our turn to offer help when the burden seems too much to bear.
Not just today. Not just this week. Prayer is a powerful tool that never ends.
Heavenly Father, guide us. Lord Jesus, reveal your hungry sheep to our hearts. Holy Spirit, teach our hearts to pray. Amen.
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