Feed My Sheep

The resurrection is not a footnote, it is a beginning. John 21 opens on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, where seven disciples have gone back to what they knew: fishing. The nets are empty. The night has been long. Then a stranger on the shore calls out and tells them to cast the net on the right side, and suddenly they cannot haul it in for the weight of the catch. It is the Lord. And Peter, hearing that, does not wait for the boat, he throws himself into the water. Twenty-one chapters in, and John is still showing us that Jesus is worth every undignified, wholehearted leap.

What follows on that beach is one of the most tender scenes in all of Scripture. Jesus has already made a fire. He already has bread and fish waiting. The risen King of kings is cooking breakfast for tired fishermen. For the new reader, take that in: this is what God is like. He does not meet our failures with a lecture; He meets our emptiness with a meal. For the seasoned believer, notice what Jesus does not say. He does not say, "I told you so." He says, "Come and dine" (John 21:12).

Then comes the restoration of Peter. Three times Jesus asks, "Lovest thou me?", once for every denial by that other fire in the high priest's courtyard. Each question is a wound being cleaned and closed. Each answer, "Feed my lambs... Feed my sheep... Feed my sheep", is a commission being placed back into hands that had dropped it. Peter is not sidelined by his failure; he is sent by his forgiveness. The Lord does not recycle us into something lesser. He restores us to something greater.

Three weeks ago we began with "In the beginning was the Word." Today we end not with a period but with a door swung open. Jesus tells Peter, "Follow me" (John 21:19), and that same call echoes across every page you have read and every day you will live. The Gospel of John does not end, it continues in you. The question is not whether Jesus is Lord. The question is whether, like Peter, you love Him enough to feed His sheep today.