Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Title: "Starting All Over"

Text: John 21:1-19

As that story begins,

we see that Peter hasn’t changed much.

He’s still impulsive,

likes to do things on the spur of the moment,

sometimes acts before he thinks.

Here we have seven of the remaining eleven disciples together …

Jesus has already made two appearances to the group

since the moment of his resurrection …

And what’s on Simon Peter’s mind?

"I’m going fishing," he announces, seemingly quite suddenly,

and all the rest decide to go along.

And later,

when he figures out that

the person hollering to them from shore is Jesus,

he makes himself presentable

and then leaps into the water.

Fortunately in this case,

the others don’t follow him,

but row the boat back to shore.

Good old Peter …

nothing has changed.

But it’s about to.

And in a way, John sets us up for it.

John is really the most literary-minded

of the four gospel writers.

He takes great care to set the scene,

and to draw parallels with what has come before …

all of which is much easier to see, of course,

when you look at the gospel as a whole, and in writing,

than when you are hearing

occasional selections, scattered over time.

John opens this scene with the disciples going fishing …

as it were, going back to their old way of life.

Jesus has been resurrected,

and they have seen him twice before this,

but they don’t appear to be responding to it in any way.

It’s as if John Madden has come along and done his

"turn out the lights, the party’s over" routine …

and for Peter, and the other six who are with him,

the party is over and they’re back to normal life.

And where are the other four?

Had they left the party already?

Seems like the disciples have decided …

well, we did some good following Jesus,

and we had some good times and scary times,

and we sure learned a lot,

but we guess now it’s time to get back to

the real world and our real lives.

So, they go fishing … for fish.

And it sets the scene for Jesus to come,

to remind them yet once again of who he is,

and to call them back to discipleship.

It is an invitation to a new beginning,

to a starting over,

to sign on once again, now that they know the whole story.

Peter and his buddies have attempted

to retreat back to their old life.

In a scene parallel to their first meeting,

Jesus calls them back to a new life.

Simple enough so far.

But watch especially, now, what happens to Peter.

John sets the scene for us as early as verse 9,

where he is describing the scene as the boat reaches shore.

Jesus is waiting there,

with fish and bread,

and a charcoal fire.

It may be that the bread and the fish

are supposed to remind us of the loaves and fishes mirable …

as I say, John likes to tie things together in that sort of way.

But …

Can you remember where we have seen a charcoal fire before?

It was three chapters ago, in chapter 18 …

in the courtyard of the high priest,

where Peter has followed Jesus after his arrest,

but is hanging back, mingling with the gathering crowd,

warming himself at a charcoal fire.

It sets the scene for Peter’s denial.

So now in chapter 21,

when John makes sure to specify a charcoal fire,

he’s telling us: This is a story about Peter.

As it turns out,

it’s about how even Peter, who denied Jesus,

is invited and welcomed to start over.

After breakfast,

Jesus seems to ignore the other six at least temporarily,

and to turn his full attention to Peter.

And notice that he begins by using Peter’s old name,

as if to emphasize that this is a starting over.

"Simon, son of John," he says,

"do you love me more than these?"

Three times Jesus asks.

Three times, Simon Peter responds,

"Yes, Lord, you know that I love you."

Three times Jesus directs him:

Feed my sheep.

Three affirmations.

To cancel out, once and for all,

Peter’s three denials.

His slate is clean.

He is forgiven.

Jesus concludes their conversation

by once again offering the invitation: Follow me.

Peter is free to start over.

And he does.

Forgiveness really is that powerful,

when it is freely offered, and freely accepted.

By forgiveness freely offered, I mean two things:

One, the person who was wronged

does not deny that the hurt happened,

or pretend that it didn’t hurt.

Jesus did not igmore what Peter had done,

nor did he offer cheap grace

by pretending that it didn’t matter.

Second, the forgiveness offered must have no strings attached.

Jesus didn’t say,

"I will forgive you if you feed my sheep."

He didn’t put Peter on probation somehow.

He doesn’t appear to have held it over his head

at some later time.

Forgiveness freely offered.

Incidentally …

we can, and indeed, we must,

forgive even those who are unrepentant.

The distinction I want to make is this:

until there is genuine repentance,

we cannot be reconciled.

That’s a whole sermon in and of itself,

for another day;

just remember that our responsibility to offer forgiveness

is not contingent upon another person’s willingness to accept it.

Freely accepting forgiveness also has two pieces:

The first is an honest admission of guilt.

We may try to explain why we did what we did,

but we don’t try to excuse it.

Nor do we say that it was no big deal,

and why are people making such a fuss.

We admit,

I did something wrong, and I’m sorry.

The second component is to let go.

We no longer beat ourselves over the head

for the mistakes we have made.

We don’t carry around a heavy load of guilt.

We don’t work ourselves into a deep depression

over how awful we are.

We accept forgiveness,

from God and from one another,

and we are free to start over.

The writer Keith Miller tells this story:

One day, a young nun went to visit her bishop.

She was both excited and puzzled,

because she believed that she had actually seen a vision of Christ.

She wanted to believe,

but didn’t want her own wishful thinking to decieve her.

How, she asked the bishop;

how could she be certain that it was Christ?

The bishop had to think about that for a moment …

this is not one of the things they teach you in bishop school …

Finally he said,

"If and when you see the vision again,

ask him this question:

Ask him to tell you, what was the bishop’s last sin

before he was consecrated bishop?"

Several months passed.

And one day, the young woman came again to see him.

Frankly, he was more than a little nervous:

If she really had spoken with Jesus,

she would know something that he, the bishop, had kept secret for a long time.

Could he trust her with that knowledge?

She sat down.

She was beaming.

This only made him more nervous.

"Well," he finally said,

"did you ask him?"

"I did," she replied.

"I said, so, if you really are who I think you are, tell me:

What was the bishop’s last sin before he was consecrated?"

"What did he tell you?"

Her smile got even bigger.

"He said: "I don’t remember.’"

That is the power to start over.

As far as God is concerned,

our sins are not only forgiven;

they are forgotten.

We are not held prisoner by our past.

We are not condemned for what we once did.

We are not loaded with guilt

to carry for the rest of our days.

We are free. To begin again.

To feed, to tend, to follow.

Thanks be to God!

Amen.

© 2004 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org)