Holy Nurture

John 21:15-18

The proof of God’s amazing love is this—Peter could not fall from God’s grasp. As dismal as was Peter’s failure—denying he even knew Jesus just as Jesus was meeting his own nadir—greater was the grace of God. We see it immediately in the form Jesus takes in reclaiming Peter—as the denial was threefold; so, too, then will be the reaffirmation. Three times Jesus asks Peter to confirm his devotion to him, erasing with each affirmative answer one level of Peter’s denial. 

That part of the story we see. We get that. There is a beautiful balance to the story. 

What we may not see is that how Jesus frames this reaffirmation of faith becomes a manifest for how we do and engage in mission. 

First, note what the question is—Do you love me?

The most basic definition of faith is that it is our love for God. In love, we devote our lives to God. In love, we trust God to be our provident source of grace. Love becomes the foundation of our relationship with God. Love opens us to receiving God’s love for us. Love guides us as we seek to live our belief in God by being servants of God within the world. 

All of this is to say that Jesus’ question is actually a reframing of the basic question of faith—Do you believe in me? Love is the expression of our belief. 

Now move to the second piece of Jesus’ questioning of Peter—how love is to be expressed. Feeding and tending will be the core work of faith.

Love as God defines it is nurturing. As a parent nurtures a child, there are a couple of levels to that nurture. The first is meeting basic needs—feeding. For a child to thrive, the child needs actual food. A body needs to be nourished to be well and whole. Our beautiful minds require that the body housing them be healthy, so feeding is absolutely essential to soundness of mind. Feeding, though, goes well beyond the simple physical need for food. Spirits and hearts need to be fed, too. A loving parent will feed a child’s soul. They will encourage means by which a child’s imagination and creativity can soar. What we discover is that a child offered both the necessary real food and the just as necessary soul food will thrive in wholistic and powerful ways. However, true nurture goes beyond feeding; it also includes tending. What does that mean? It means providing safety, security, and solace for a child. An infant is one of the most helpless forms of life we can imagine. Without a safe environment, a baby will not last long. Hence, new parents all exhibit OCD as they clog up every outlet in reach, barricade every stairwell, and lock away all the daily chemicals we use to clean our homes. It goes further as the child ventures into the world. Helmets are strapped on small heads as bikes roll down the driveway. Background checks are made on babysitters. Schools are surveyed to be sure children will be safe and  sound while they learn. And again, tending goes beyond the material. Loving parents will tend a child’s heart, mind, and soul as they feed the same. Limits are established about what a child sees, listens to, reads, or encounters. People who wound a child’s heart are kept at bay. What we find, then, is that nurture is a deep, profound, and difficult work. Feeding and tending take a special level of commitment and focus. And it is exactly what God requires of us as we seek to embody and live the love we profess to have for God. 

It is hard to witness Peter grilled on the beach by Jesus. We begin to feel like a fish on the griddle ourselves. We begin to worry and fret about our own discipleship. We begin to take stock and are not sure how the account reads. We feel Jesus’ questions begin to burn us. We understand completely Peter’s exasperation at the end of the ordeal.

So what are we to do about it?

Feed some sheep; tend some lambs—that’ll do.

In my house growing up, it was easy to stay in my parents’ good graces—do what they asked. Pretty simple, really. But like good kids everywhere, I didn’t always take the simple path. There is a rebellious streak inside us that makes the simple complicated. It begins when we start to ask why. It continues when we strongly feel an upwelling of I don’t want to. And it completely undoes us when we flat out refuse to abide—you’re not the boss of me. I spent my fair share of time in the ol’ family doghouse, and deservedly so. Then it would suddenly dawn on me what the easy exit was—do what mom and dad asked.

Our relationship with God is much the same, no matter how we drape it in holiness and sanctity. We itch, complain, and whine (go read the psalms and tell me I’m wrong!); yet, God abides, still offering the rather simple path of grace to redemption—do what I ask. Miraculously, that grace will always and forever meet, match, and overwhelm our rebellion and disobedience. Peter was brought back from abject denial; ergo, we can be brought back from whatever abyss we dig for ourselves. And what God asks is that we reconnect ourselves to love—the other-centered, self-emptying love Christ reveals—the love that is nurture for any and all whom we meet. 

The further detail in our favor is no one need look too hard to find a lamb of God. They are all around us, all the time. They on are your left and right. They are before you and behind. Any person—any human being—is a lamb of God to be fed and tended. Nurture someone, and God is there. Thanks be to God.