“Resurrection Reminders”
May 2, 2010
John 21:15-25
These Sundays after Easter the gospel lessons continue to remind us of the resurrection. And we probably need the reminders because it’s so easy to forget during the week, isn’t it?
Even in the spring, it’s easy to forget that God is doing a new thing, renewing all creation.
And it’s easy to forget that this new life is still a possibility for each of us.
In the pressure of work, the demands of home life, and the approach of finals it’s easy to forget the life-giving power of God.
It’s easy to forget that, as N.T. Wright puts it: “the resurrection of Jesus means that the present time is shot through with great significance. Acts of justice and mercy, the creation of beauty and the celebration of truth, deeds of love and the creation of communities of kindness and forgiveness—these matter and they matter forever.”[1]
“This present time”—these hectic and uncertain days in which we live are filled with importance and meaning. What we are doing as people of faith and as a community of Christians matters. We need reminders of the resurrection power behind our actions.
So in this Easter season we begin our worship by repeating the ancient affirmation: “Christ is risen!” It’s a small reminder.
And we continue to hear stories of resurrection.
We heard the final story from the gospel of John this morning.
The last chapter of John’s gospel is generally regarded as an epilogue, a later addition to a book that originally concluded with chapter 20. The opening verses tell of the followers of Jesus who, after the resurrection, followed Peter’s lead and went fishing. They returned to the life that they knew. Fishing is what they did before this Jesus wandered into their lives a few years earlier.
While out on the boat their eyes are opened and they see that the one who calls to them from the shore is the risen Christ. Coming ashore they are greeted by Jesus, who gives them bread and fish. The Gospel tells us, almost matter-of-factly, “This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.”
The resurrection appearances in John’s gospel might surprise us with their simplicity. The risen Jesus talks with a grieving woman, assures a doubting man, and eats breakfast with some weary followers.
After eating with the disciples along the lakeshore, Jesus turns to Peter. This is Peter, who, as John tells the story, ran to the tomb when he heard from Mary of Magdala that it was empty, went inside and found only linen wrappings. This is Peter who a few days earlier denied three times that he even knew Jesus.
Jesus turns to Peter and asks: “Do you love me more than these others?” How does your love rate, Peter? On a scale of one to twelve, where does it fall?
What a question for anyone to have to answer! How do you measure up compared to those around you?
That’s one of those nagging questions that no one really knows how to answer. What do we say? What does it mean to love the source of all love?
One person writes: “I need God… to help me love, as I seem beyond being able to love.” If we need God to help us love, what does that say about our love for God?
Certainly the question of God's love for us is settled.
The question of our love for God is more up in the air.
Well, Peter, always impetuous, is quick with an answer: “Yes, Lord. You know that I love you.”
“Feed my lambs,” Jesus says in response to Peter's affirmation of love. If you love me, show love towards those whom I love. Seek the well-being of those who are following me. Act in ways that will build up the community of the faithful. And reach out beyond that small community recognizing that I have other sheep who are not of this fold.
In the United Church of Christ, we’re comfortable with that response. Our faith is more about covenant than creed, more about how we act toward each other and our neighbors than what we say about Jesus. We understand that loving God whom we cannot see is about loving those human beings whom we can see.
With Peter, we have heard the call to show love. Certainly the question time should now be over.
“Peter,” Jesus says.
“Do you love me?”
Like a child who keeps asking “Why?” to each explanation that you give, Jesus asks the same question.
And when Peter answers for a second time, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you,” Jesus only has one further question.
Peter. Do you love me?
Hurt and exasperated, Peter says: “You know everything. You know I love you.”
Three times Peter denied that he even knew the Jesus who had been arrested and hauled off to be tried. Three times Peter tells of his love.
At this point Jesus says what might be the most frightening words in the gospel. “In truth I tell you: when you are old you will stretch out your arms and a stranger will bind you fast and carry you where you have no wish to go.”
The words that Jesus uses—stretch out your arms, a stranger will bind you fast—are technical words used to describe crucifixion. But that’s not what is frightening. What disturbs me is that Jesus tells Peter about his own future.
The hand lettered sign above a fortune teller's booth reads: “I promise I won’t tell you you’re going to die.” We don’t know the future—and isn’t that a good thing? We’re scared enough of it as it is—without knowing. A character in a short story says: “Thousands of years ago, a person just assumed that life for their kids would be identical to the one that they led. Now you assume that life for the next generation—even life next week—is going to be shockingly different than life today.”
The future for each of us is unknown—which is why we are called to follow Jesus in the present. We are called to lives of love in the present moment because we do not know what even the next hour holds for us.
Peter looks around and sees another disciple. So he asks: “What about him?”
During the first year that we were both in divinity school, Robin and I worked with about 150 junior and senior high youth at a United Methodist church. There was a group of junior high boys who were usually involved in the activities the Robin led. I say “usually” because it all depended on Gordie.
Gordie wasn't the biggest, or the oldest, or the smartest of those kids. But every time you asked one of them if he was coming to an event he’d say: “What’s Gordie doing?”
We quickly learned: ask Gordie first. Then we could say he would be there when the question inevitably came: "What's Gordie doing?"
So many people are all wrapped up in what somebody else is doing. We’re all encouraged to calculate how we stack up against someone else.
We look at neighbors, church members: what are they doing? We look at others and wonder why our lives aren't like theirs.
What about him? Peter asks.
And Jesus replies, literally: “What's it to you?” This is your life. Follow me.
In the short story Life after God a woman in her early thirties says: “I woke up really early this morning and I thought to myself—‘So, girl—this is it? Forty more years of this?’ Something's got to change. I need something. Or maybe I need to throw something away.”
Maybe that’s it. We need a life and that’s what the risen Christ continues to offer. We need a life—and we’re not going to get it by imitating others. We’re not going to get it by trumping everyone else. We’re not going to get it by what we know or what we have.
We need a life and we will find it by following the way of Jesus Christ. Jesus keeps saying “Follow me” not only because there are always people who haven’t heard, but also because every time we turn our heads, we forget. Like easily distracted children, our attention rapidly wanders.
Each of us needs to be reminded: the Christian life is about what you do with your life, not about what someone else is doing with theirs.
The distractions are many. And so the risen Christ keeps asking the question. We keep hearing the resurrection question: do you love me? Do you love me?
And we keep hearing the call: follow me. With a life that shows my love to others, Jesus says, “Follow me.”