Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Last week I attended a post-Covid respite retreat for
pastors. I somewhat hesitate to call it a retreat because retreats give the
image of golf courses, swimming pools, and adult-grade slurpee machines. This
was far from restort-level R&R. From Monday through Wednesday, the days
were filled with times of worship, prayer, and study as we were encouraged in
our vocations as pastors. We were reminded that God has called us, imperfect
sinners though we are this side of heaven, to service in His Kingdom among His
people; that the same Gospel we preach to God’s people is the same good news
that we need to hear and receive for ourselves: that the same Jesus, who died
for you, He died for us as well. It was the simple joy of having a pastor place
his hands on our heads, one by one, and pray a blessing over us in the name of
Jesus with the encouragement to “Depart in peace.”
When I signed up for the respite retreat, I actually told
the registrar that I was doing OK, that we hadn’t been hit as hard as other
congregations and pastors, and that if there was limited seating and someone
else needed the spot, I would gladly surrender my place to him. I was glad I
didn’t get that phone call. I didn’t realize just how much I needed the
respite. I left Wednesday afternoon in peace, refreshed and renewed and
thankful for the teaching of Pastor Fleming and Doctor Yanhke and the preaching
of Pastor Mesch and for having a little time alone to simply think and reflect
on the good news of Jesus.
Luther once wrote, “Prayer, meditation on the Scriptures and
testing makes the theologian” – not Seminary classrooms. That testing, the
German word is anfechtungen, that’s what happens when we live the life
of discipleship, under the cross of Christ. It’s the crossroads where faith and
life intersect and sometimes collide – that’s what makes and seasons pastors. To
be honest, we should probably change that to say simply “disciples,” because
it’s true for laymen, too. In faith, we see Jesus with His hands extended
toward us in His mercy and grace; with our eyes we see the world around us,
sometimes far, far removed from anything that seems to resemble the will of
God. That’s where we, as God’s people, live. And we pastors, called by Christ
to serve as His undershepherds, stand with you in that intersection, armed with
prayer and the Word of God and we pray with you and for you as you utter,
“Lord, I believe…help Thou my unbelief.”
And when you do that, you stand alongside Peter. Boy, you
talk about a disciple who was full of himself. One minute, filled with wisdom
that only comes from the Holy Spirit as he rightly makes the great confession
of Christendom: “You are the Christ;” the next, filled with arrogance that only
comes from the Old Adam within, Peter dares to put himself between Christ and the
cross and tell Jesus, “You’ll go down there over my dead body.” One minute, Jesus declares him to be Petros –
Rock; the next, Jesus rebukes the Rock as satan. One minute, Peter pulls his
concealed carry sword, chopping off the ear of one who does not listen that
Jesus is the Messiah; a short time later, Peter flees from a servant girl who
identifies him by his Galillean accent.
If it is prayer, meditation on God’s Word and testing of
faith in life that makes the theologian, Peter fails miserably.
Let me ask you: what kind of congregation do you think would
want such a pastor? Would Zion want such a man? Think of the characteristics of
a good pastor – would you include arrogance, or brashness, or being called out
as satan as characteristics you desire in your pastor? Did you include apostacy
– the denying of Jesus – as a necessary trait? No…of course not. No church
would want such a man to be pastor. No pastor would want to be on a ministry
team with a man like that as a team mate.
Which is what makes this text from John 21 so incredible and
remarkable. No congregation would want a man like Peter the Denier…but Jesus
does.
In a remarkable, three-fold way, Jesus speaks to Peter:
Twice, Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me so that you are willing to completely
give yourself up for me?” Jesus is asking if he is still willing to die for
Jesus. The irony isn’t lost on Peter; he can only answer with “Yes, Lord, I
love you like a brother” – not I love you enough to give myself up for you. The
third time when Jesus asks Peter, he uses Peter’s words: “Do you love me like a
brother?” Three questions; three reminders of three denials. Can you imagine
the guilt that Peter was carrying, knowing and remembering what he had done to
Jesus? Can you imagine his shame after once boasting, “I would rather die with
you than deny you,” knowing that he turned tail and ran into the darkness? It’s
no wonder that St. John notes Peter is grieved when Jesus asks the third time,
“Do you love me?”
Jesus loves Peter too much to leave him in his shameful
grief. It’s as if Jesus is saying this: Peter, I not only love you as a
brother, I love you so that I am willing to give myself up completely for you.
I took your denial into myself. Where you ran into the darkness to hide, I
stood in front of Pilate to be condemned. Where you swore you did not know me,
I prayed, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Where you were
not willing to die for me, I was willing to die for you. And, Peter, so that
you know that my death for you was sufficient, I was raised to life again on
Easter. You have now seen me, not once, not twice, but three times. And where
you once denied me three times, I am now calling you back to ministry – not
once, not twice, but three times. You know what it is to be forgiven, Peter.
Now, go…feed my sheep and faithfully deliver this forgiveness to them as well.”
And in that moment of simplicity, Peter is forgiven,
restored, and enabled to stand in the stead and by the command of Jesus Christ,
who died for Peter and all those whom Peter would later serve as pastor.
Here is the beauty and power of this text for men of God who
dare to stand in the stead of Jesus in the Office of the Holy Ministry. Jesus
calls men like the thirty of us who gathered at the shore of Lake Dallas last
week. We were from different backgrounds, serving different kinds of
communities, with differing talents and abilities. Some were more worn than
others, some nearly broken from the anfechtungen they have had to endure
the last few years, some from Covid, some from being sinners among sinners. Just
as Jesus takes a fallen man like Peter, calls him back to ministry, and uses
him – with all of his faults, weaknesses, human desires, idiosyncrasies and
quirks – for His glory, so also He uses us. With all of our failings, and
foibles, and sins against both God and man, Christ holds out His hands in
blessing and He calls us to faithful service. “Go…feed my sheep.” In the Office
of the Holy Ministry, “pastors who have been forgiven much, love much.”
Jesus gives Peter a simple, final instruction: follow me.
Peter will – he will follow Jesus from Galille to the mount of ascension, and
then from there to Jerusalem, through Pentecost, and then out to the rest of
the world. His message will be Christ and Him crucified. He will call people to
repentance; He will call people to faith in Jesus by the power of the Holy
Spirit. Peter won’t be perfect – he will blow it when influential people from
Jerusalem try to make him toe the Jewish party line regarding the necessity of
living under the Law that had been fulfilled in Christ. It will take a public
rebuke from St. Paul to correct Peter’s thinking. But Peter will remain
faithful. He will follow Jesus. He will follow Jesus even to his own cross.
Tradition says Peter, when arrested and sentenced to crucifixion, declared he
was not worthy of dying in the same manner as the Lord, so they crucified him upside
down, inverted, on the cross instead. The words of Jesus, spoken to Peter as
part of his restoration, will come to fulfillment.
There’s a wonderful order to this: Jesus says “Follow me.”
The Church, which is the body of Christ, remember, also follows Jesus.
Generation to generation, we follow using the footsteps of Peter and the
apostles, and our parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, friends and neighbors,
and yes, the pastors who have gone before us. We follow them through the cross of
Christ to the Font, from Font to Table. But Jesus won’t have us stay here. He
has us go out into the world, still following Him and His footsteps.
Follow Him in peace and with great joy. Amen.
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