Acts 9:1-6

John 21:1-19

It is finished!  That’s what it says high up on the cross at a little church near my home.  And every time I see that sign I think, really Lord?  It feels like there is so much work that still needs to be done in this poor broken world.  But, it is, after all, what Jesus says from the cross, when he gives up his spirit back in chapter 19 of John’s gospel.  And who am I to argue with scripture?

As you look around the church you would think it is finished, now that Easter Day has come and gone.  We’ve already greeted one another with Christ is Risen!  He is risen indeed!  Alleluia!  Amen!  Now it is time to get back to business as usual.

Surely Peter and the other disciples were thinking it is finished.  Their friend, their teacher, and their master had already been persecuted, tortured and brutally murdered by those whose power was threatened by the new order and the new authority that Jesus represented.  I’m sure there were no alleluias on their lips as they returned to their ordinary lives.

No, what they were feeling was more likely to be the fear, the confusion, the mind-numbing and all-encompassing emotions of profound grief.  The disciples were experiencing a true dark night of the soul.  In this devastating loss of Jesus, I’m sure they were also experiencing a loss of meaning and a loss of direction.  From this dark place Peter informs his friends, ‘I’m going fishing.’   And they invite themselves along.  As they set off in the dark of night, they return to the life from which Jesus had called them to follow him 3 and ½ years earlier.

Perhaps some of you can relate to the emotional state of the disciples.  After all, grief and loss are universal human experiences which unite folks across all sorts of divides we invent for ourselves.  Your political leanings do not matter.  Your faith tradition does not matter.  Your socio-economic status does not matter.  Everyone experiences grief.

Whether it be loss of a loved one, loss of meaningful work, loss of health, loss associated with dashed dreams, losses pile up in this life.  Making our way through them can be intensely difficult and even life-shattering.  We have many coping strategies that we use to navigate the rough waters, and some more useful than others.

Perhaps you, like the disciples, have isolated yourselves behind closed doors, with no desire for contact with well-meaning associates and friends.  I can certainly relate.  I remember a time many, many years ago when I lost a pregnancy when I was 6 months pregnant.  It was in the most profound grief I have ever experienced to date.  My well-meaning co-workers sent me flowers, and I was so angry with those flowers, that I wanted to rip their little heads off, because for me they represented my loss.  Grief does funny things to a person.

Right now one of my best friends is going through anticipatory grief as she is facing the loss of not just one parent, but of both of her parents.  The demands of caregiving on her are so overwhelming that she can barely answer text messages, let alone answer phone calls.

I’m sure you have your own difficult grief-filled situations which have come to mind as I have been speaking.  I raise these images and emotions for you this morning, not to depress you, but so that you can relate to Peter and the disciples as they return to their own comfort spots out there on the fishing boat.

Maybe they were beginning to experience a bit of healing.  At least they had managed to get themselves out from behind locked doors.  As you may recall, this was exactly where they were when they last encountered Jesus, not just once, but twice after his death.

Perhaps they were seeking a return to normalcy, a simpler time, a kind of return to home. At least it was a return to something they knew before Jesus called them away from their nets and led them on a journey they could not have imagined for themselves.  Maybe the disciples were experiencing a bit of what the psychologists call denial.  Perhaps they thought that if they could go back to the way things were, perhaps they could put the horror of what happened to Jesus behind them.

We all long for a little bit of the way things used to be.  Numerous songs have even been written on this very subject.  We see this longing and nostalgia in the middle aged person, as they watch their youth slip away, and who suddenly have a renewed interest in sports and in their own health, which is not an altogether bad thing.  Or we see the more destructive version of this reality in the person who seeks excitement and romance outside of their marriage.  There are so many other destructive behaviors in which we engage in order to recapture that which is lost.  The trick is to see the emotion behind the behavior and to correct it before it gets out of hand, and we do too much damage to ourselves or those we love.

We do it in the church as well.  We long for the good old days when the church was always full, there was no youth sports on Sundays, or any other distractions for that matter—for even the grocery stores were closed on Sundays.  Maybe we don’t long for that, or know that those days are never coming back.  But we do cling to less than helpful ideas, like believing that if the You-Know-Who and the So-and-So families would just come back, with their children, all would be well again with the church.

But, as Peter found out, there is no going back.  Jesus meets us where we are, and calls us ever forward.  Out of the darkness Jesus calls to Peter from the shore.  ‘Peter, without me you have nothing.  With me there is abundant life’ (for that is the real meaning of the 153 fish, without getting too distracted about the number).

Once you have encountered Jesus there is no going back, at least there is no going back unchanged.  It is finished!

Saul found that out the hard way, as he was thrown to the ground and blinded by the light of the Lord.  He had a complete turnaround of his life, and a new way of seeing after his encounter with the Lord, and with the other followers of Jesus.

But, if it is finished, what is Jesus doing here on the beach?

Everything Jesus had told them had led them to this place.  When Jesus was giving his long monologue to the disciples about his impending departure back in chapters 14-17 he assured them that his abiding presence would always be there to guide them, comfort them, to lead them and to strengthen them.  And here he is, giving them instructions and transforming their circumstances.

Peter had every reason to be filled with guilt, shame and fear.  The last time Peter was warming his hands around a fire was when he was denying being one of Jesus’ disciples.  Now instead of being chastised by Jesus, he is restored to his place in the fellowship, by the three-fold confession of his love for Jesus.  It seems that even when we fail, Jesus forgives us and continues to call us to be part of his flock and to tend his sheep.  Jesus feeds a broken Peter and commissions him to respond by extending Jesus’ love to others: “Feed my sheep”

This love is a central and defining characteristic for those whom Jesus loves and for us as Christians.  Jesus commands his followers to love one another as he has loved them.  This is a tough act to follow.

This commissioning to feed Jesus’ sheep does not just extend to Peter and the disciples, but to each and every one of us.  Jesus has already called the disciples to follow him, and now he is calling them to follow him again.  In different parts of our lives that following may look different.  Not everyone is called to go on mission trips, teach Sunday school, or to take hygiene supplies to the homeless.  But, some of you are.  For some of us, following Jesus may be contributing to various ministries, making phone calls to those who are isolated, or simply being kind to someone who is hard to love.

None of us escape this life unbroken. Yet God sustains us and calls us to be about God’s work. We are not perfect. God loves us anyway.

The breakfast on the beach in John’s Gospel compels us to believe that our compassionate God knows a thing or two about brokenness. It invites us to warm our aching muscles by the fire, to taste a bit of what Jesus has to offer, and to imagine that the risen Jesus gathers up the remnant—the imperfect but salvageable offerings of our broken lives—and cherishes them.  We are reminded that we are a part of the ongoing story of God.

For the disciples – hope came in the morning, in the presence of Jesus, in following Jesus, and in being given the charge to keep on following.  This command to “follow me” is a long term commitment that is transformational. It is a life changing kind of following.

Come.  There is no going back!