John 21:15-25 "Following" Scott Hoezee

Once upon a time you maybe had the experience of unrequited love. Or maybe the love was not unrequited but was at least not reciprocated with the intensity you would have preferred to see. If you write someone a note or letter and sign it, "Love" or "All My Love," then you're not pleased if the person writes back only to sign off "Cordially" or "Sincerely." If you say to someone you're dating, "I love you," then you don't want to hear, "That's nice" as the reply! In a movie I saw once, the woman of a couple would always say to her boyfriend, "I love you," but the best he could do in reply was to say, "Ditto." She never quite found that satisfactory, not surprisingly!

As many of you know, Jesus' encounter with Peter in John 21 contains precisely this verbal dynamic. In the triple-exchange contained in verses 15-17, there is a very curious, highly striking, interplay of Greek words. It is striking enough that I am convinced this was intentionally put here by John to make a point. As Mel Gibson vividly reminded us recently, Jesus and his disciples spoke Aramaic to each other, not the Koine Greek in which the entire New Testament eventually got written. So we don't know precisely what original words were used in any of the gospel stories that got recorded for us. But we assume that as the evangelists translated their conversations with Jesus into Greek, they did what they could to preserve the original tenor of the discussions. All translations are also interpretations, of course, but since we confess that the Holy Spirit was involved in the writing of the Scriptures, we believe that whatever interpretations someone like John made in the translation process, these were the correct ways of framing and interpreting it all.

Of course, I have read scholars who claim that what I am about to tell you about the Greek of John 21 is much ado about nothing. There are those who claim that although John uses two different Greek words for "love" in these verses, they are really just synonyms, two words that had at that time no appreciable differences between them. Today it would be like comparing the word "combat" with the word "warfare." Both basically mean the same thing, and so even if a writer used both words in close proximity to each other, there wouldn't be much worth talking about in terms of nuances between the two.

But I have never been able to buy that when it comes to John 21. I think there is something cooking here theologically and that's why John wrote this the way he did. As we have reviewed on prior occasions, the first two times Jesus asks Peter if he loves him, the Greek is the verb agape. But both times when Peter replies, the Greek word on Peter's lips is philos. So Jesus asks twice, "Peter, do you agape me?" but Peter replies, "Yes, Lord, I philos you." Finally, on the third time, Jesus gives up asking about agape and himself switches to ask, "Peter, do you philos me?" It is this shift in verbage that makes Peter sad.

If you are going to make anything of this exchange, the typical argument goes like this: Jesus inquires about that deep, sacrificial kind of love, of agape, that Jesus himself had shown on the cross. But given his recent and dismal failure to stick with Jesus once the heat was on, Peter maybe doesn't feel he can properly claim that kind of love, and so he replies by proffering to Jesus the more friendship-oriented love of philos. Having given that answer twice to his Lord, Peter sadly sees on the last go-round that even Jesus condescends to his level and settles for asking about the philos type of love. Even though Peter himself had not dared to claim more than that, still it was disappointing to see Jesus lower his expectations. Of course, what we as readers should not miss is that even so, each time Peter answered this way, still Jesus gave him the highly spiritual task of tending the flock.

It seems as though Jesus is willing to meet us where we are. There is hope for all of us in that. And it's well to note, too, that Jesus implies no judgment on Peter despite his less-than-optimal replies to Jesus' questions about the strength of his love. And don't forget, too, that this entire scene has traditionally, and correctly, been viewed as the restoration of Peter despite his multiple denials and betrayals of Jesus. Seldom is grace more glaringly and beautifully on display than in this story right here.

But maybe we're tempted to think that Peter was being too hard on himself, selling himself short. Sure he had failed. Badly. But perhaps even so he could have cut himself some slack, stepped out on faith, and given a stronger answer anyway. However, I think that what happens next in this gospel epilogue shows that maybe, just maybe, Peter's hesitancy at this point was warranted. Because Jesus goes on, somewhat surprisingly, to say some unexpected words that John himself tells us were a prediction of Peter's martyrdom. If John hadn't coached us here and told us that this is what verses 18-19 meant, I'm not sure that death would have been the first thing we would have thought of having read these words. Jesus' words about being dressed by others and being led around where you don't want to go sound more like a description of life at a nursing home than persecution or death!

But John says these words were about Peter's death, and it appears that Peter himself picked up on that. Because no sooner does Jesus say this, and Peter points his thumb at John to ask, "What about him!?" This was not a question borne of idle curiosity! It is almost as though Peter is saying, "Well, if I have to die for you, I'd better not be the only one! Why should I have to die for you, Lord, if the others don't have to? So what about him!?" And if you doubt that this is the angle Peter is working here, just take careful note of what Jesus says in reply. "If I want him to stay alive until I come again, what is that to you?" John himself immediately goes on to say that this did not really mean he would not die.

But if that is so, you have to wonder why Jesus said it at all. What was the tone of Jesus' voice when he said it? Maybe we can draw a bead on that if we think of it this way: at some point those of us who are parents have encountered what can happen when you tell a younger child he has to go to bed earlier than an older sibling. The child inevitably says something like, "Well, what about her!? When does she have to go to bed?" And if you as a parent find that remark to be rather impertinent and self-centered, you may reply, "Hey, if mommy and I say she can stay up until midnight, what's that to you!" Of course, you don't really mean that. The older child will not be staying up until anywhere near midnight, but you engage in a little hyperbole to put the complaining child back into his proper place. You talk that way to highlight in a bold way the fact that the child had asked a wrong-headed question that trafficked in matters beyond his proper place in the family structure.

That's what I think Jesus was doing in talking about John's never dying until the second coming. He was exaggerating the point to underscore that Peter was asking a bad, out-of-place question. But if I'm right about that, then Jesus did this to underscore and uncover the fact that Peter was still too self-absorbed, still too focused on his own needs. As it turns out, he was probably quite accurate in being shy about using the agapic form of love for himself. He really does have a long ways to go spiritually! He has been restored, lavished with grace, and given vital tasks to perform in that upcoming community that would become Jesus' Church, but Peter is not home yet.

At the potluck two weeks ago, I noted how very, very little the New Testament tells us about what Jesus said and did in that forty-day stretch of time between Easter Sunday and Ascension Day. I said to you then that really John 21 is the only significant report of anything that took place over those six weeks. But insofar as that is the case, isn't it intriguing to see that about the only thing we know Jesus did after being raised from the dead was an act of gracious forgiveness of a person who still had lots of problems! True, we're not at Pentecost yet, and Peter will become a changed man in terms of boldness and a willingness to suffer for Jesus once the Holy Spirit is poured out on him. But still, even in the presence of the resurrected Lord of Life, and even having just received a boatload of that Lord's grace, Peter remained a flawed figure. Truth is, even after Pentecost there will be wrinkles to his character. Just recently we read Paul's account in Galatians 2 of the time Paul had to rebuke Peter for his hypocrisy one time when he refused to join in on a non-kosher meal being served by some non-Jewish hosts of Peter's.

But just sticking with John 21 for the moment, I find it interesting that we receive here a vignette of what the Church is still like even to this day. There is such striking honesty in the New Testament's portrayal of real life before the face of God. As you know by now, I'm not a big fan of religious bumper stickers nor of 90% of all the church signs I've ever seen where some overly clever and pithy little slogan gets pasted up. I think it tends to trivialize the faith and the seriousness of our thoughtful and intelligent theological tradition. But one such bumper sticker-like slogan I have seen is actually on to something: "Christians Aren't Perfect, Just Forgiven."

Anyone who is honest about his or her experiences in the life of the church knows something of what that slogan is getting at. At any given moment in the life of any congregation you could name, there are genuinely knotty problems. There are marriages teetering on the brink of disaster. There are negative people who seem to relish the chance to bash the pastors or be highly suspicious of this or that program of the congregation. There are difficult people who, instead of mellowing and becoming more saintly as the years go by, seem to retrench and actually become more cynical, more bitter, more difficult in their snow-crowned age than they were when they were younger. At any given moment across the face of the denomination, somebody somewhere is preparing to write an overture to synod, very often expressing significant opposition, and sometimes outright anger, at past decisions and stances. And too often, lurking behind the more strident of such documents, is a congregation ready to bolt and secede from the wider denomination.

All of this goes on and it goes on most all of the time. Yet in the midst of it all there is always Jesus, asking if we love him, hearing our often less-than-desirable responses, but nevertheless forgiving us and giving us work to do. We gather for worship on Sunday but sometimes awaken to the fact that we're not as invested as we should be. We catch our minds wandering, realize that we are feeling just as irritable sitting in the pew as we were when we got up that morning. We cut our eyes left or right only to spy so-and-so, and suddenly lots of unsanctified thoughts rise up like dark clouds off our mental horizons. And still the Lord graciously encounters us in worship. Still he gives us of his Holy Spirit, still he manages to energize us for further service in feeding his flock and tending his lambs.

Jesus knows, better than anyone, that at any given moment, we've got a ways to go in terms of maturing spiritually. But he doesn't wait for us to scale some theological Mount Everest before commissioning us to service. As with Peter that day, so with us: Jesus asks us for our all, urges us to take the risk of putting ourselves out there for him 100% but often, either because of cowardice, uncertainty, or sheer honesty, we know that in reply we give Jesus a kind of philos instead of the agape he was looking for. But that doesn't stop Jesus and so it must not stop us, either. Jesus isn't interested in hearing about our self-doubts. Seeing us wringing our hands and hanging our heads and mumbling about how unworthy we are cuts no ice with him. There's just too much work to be done.

So he places his gospel treasure in earthen vessels, in cracked pots, and sends us out into the world to share this treasure. He places his gospel message on trembling, stuttering, hesitant lips and tells us to talk about what we believe and know. He places spiritual talents into quivering hands and tells us to use those weak old hands of ours to build for Jesus something beautiful in this world.

Sometimes we succeed despite ourselves. Sometimes we fall short and have to ask for forgiveness all over again. But ever and always, and as was the case for Peter no less than twice in John 21, Jesus just keeps saying, "Follow me." Those were the very first words Jesus had ever spoken to Peter. Now in John 21, despite all that had transpired, Jesus says them again, telling Peter he is restored indeed. As it was in the beginning when Jesus was a stranger, so now in the end even after Peter had willfully treated Jesus like a stranger, the words of discipleship ring out. "Follow me." As it was in the beginning when Peter took his first hesitant steps, so now in the end even after Peter had asked his rather impertinent question, Jesus says for a second time, "Follow me."

That's what we keep coming back to in all our walks of discipleship. We've got a Lord and we've got the ongoing clarion call to follow him. We stumble, we fall, but he picks us back up by grace and says, "Follow me." He never says, "Follow me only after you get your act together." He never says, "I'll check back in on you in a few years and if I like what I see at that time, then you may again follow me." No, he says "Follow me" and that's that. He says, "Do you love me heart, soul, mind, and strength?" and we answer, "We try." "Good enough," he says, "feed my sheep."

If, as individual believers or corporately as a church, if we can't see ourselves reflected in John 21, we're probably not being very honest about who we are and the stragglers we can often be on discipleship's path. Yet the very fact that we can see ourselves here lends still more hope to our hearts. Grace abounds yet again.

John ends his gospel by saying again what he mentioned at also the end of chapter 20; namely, his gospel, like each of the four gospels, is just a snippet, just an edited selection of all that Jesus said and did in his life. Then, on a lyric note of hyperbole, John ends by saying that if everything were written down, the whole world couldn't contain the book that would end up being written. That is clearly an exaggeration. And yet maybe not. Maybe part of what John means is not only that what Jesus did was bigger than the whole world but so is what the rest of us as followers have done and have said ever since.

So long as we keep trying to love Jesus the way he deserves to be loved (and the way he already does love us); so long as we keep trying to follow him and tend his sheep, his lambs, his whole flock; so long as that is true, sooner or later the whole world really cannot contain the sum total of our holy efforts. Because by following Jesus as the Lord of Life, eventually we will see that it will be nothing short of the whole world that will be changed, cleansed, renewed into shining splendor. When Jesus says to any one of us, "Follow me," that whole new world is precisely where we are heading step by step by step. Praise him. Follow him. Amen.