S. Peter's Restoration
PETER’S RESTORATION
“So when they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these? He saith unto him, Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him. Feed my lambs. He saith to him again the second time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? He saith unto him, Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him. Feed my sheep. He saith unto him the third time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? Peter was grieved because he said unto him the third time, Lovest thou me? And he said unto him, Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee. Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep. Verily, verily, I say unto thee. When thou wast young thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not. This spake he, signifying by what death he should glorify God. And when he had spoken this, he saith unto him, Follow me. Then Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom Jesus loved following; which also leaned on his breast at supper, and said, Lord, which is he that betrayeth thee? Peter seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do? Jesus saith unto him. If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me.”- John 21:15-22
PETER is the prominent person in this chapter. It would almost seem as if the chapter had been written on account or on behalf of Peter; for it is like an appendix or postscript added upon some sudden afterthought, before the document is closed and sealed. The preceding chapter ends as if it were meant to be the end of the book: “And many other signs truly did Jesus in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book: But these are written, that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye might have life through his name” (John 20:30-31). The old man, almost fatigued by the crowd of so many young reminiscences, and of such a sort, gives up the vain attempt to record all, and is in the act of laying down his pen; but it flashes upon his mind that he has still one just service, one friendly office to discharge, to one whom, living, he dearly loved, and whose memory, since his death, he has never ceased to cherish.
It is Peter, whom the Lord himself, once and again, made him accept as a brother, equally with his natural brother James, on the mount of glory - the transfiguration; in the chamber of sickness - the cure of Jairus’ daughter; and in the garden of agony - Gethsemane. It is Peter, with whom in all probability he spent the dreary hours of the Lord’s lying in the tomb, mingling tears of penitence and grief; and with whom he had a race on the resurrection morn, on the first rumour of the women that the tomb was empty. And now when, after many long years spent in his master’s service, without the fellowship of his brother James, and of his more than brother, Peter, John has finished a work that brings all that old fellowship freshly up again, his heart bursting with the desire to tell something more, can anything be conceived more touching than his raising, under the warm impulse of affectionate remembrance, a monument more lasting than brass, more precious than gold, to the bosom friend of his early years!
Thus Peter stands out in this chapter. It is Peter who first makes the proposal; “I go a fishing;” to which they all assented: “We also go with thee.” Why he made the proposal we cannot say. Possibly, in his despondency he may have concluded that all was over - for himself, at least, if not for his fellows. Their occupation, as “fishers of men,” being forfeited, the best thing he and they could do was to resume the trade of ordinary fishers in the old familiar waters.
Again, while it is John who first recognises the Lord, “Therefore that disciple whom Jesus loved saith unto Peter, It is the Lord;” it is Peter who instantly acts on that loving whisper: “Hearing that it was the Lord, he girt his fisher’s coat Tinto him, and did cast himself into the sea.” All the more eagerly does he do so, because he recognises the Lord by the very same sign by which he was led to own him at first (Luke 5:4-11). The repetition of the sign may well recall old recollections and awaken new hopes. He will not now say, as he said then: “Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, Lord.” Rather, feeling himself to be a sinful man far more now than then, he will go through fire and water to Jesus, to him that saveth his people from their sins. Let us bear these things in mind, while we consider the conversation after dinner. For it is a remarkable conversation, or catechism, in many views. Thus:
I. That the Lord should question Peter about his love to him (John 21:15-17).
II. That he should question him about the degree of his love (John 21:15).
III. That he should question him three times (John 21:17).
IV. That he should follow up the questioning with the command. Feed my lambs. Feed my sheep (John 21:15-17).
V. That he should annex so solemn a warning as to the martyr’s death Peter was to die (John 21:18-19). And, VI. That he should crown the whole with the twice repeated call, Follow thou me (John 21:19; John 21:22).
These are noticeable points in this singular personal dialogue; the last left on record before the Lord’s ascension.
I. The question is about love. Lovest thou me? Why does the Lord question the disciple who had so recently denied him? Why about love? Why not about repentance, or faith, or the purpose of new obedience? Why does not the Lord ask, What of the past? hast thou thoroughly repented? art thou truly, sufficiently, penitent? hast thou had enough of bitter weeping? hast thou duly humbled, chastised, mortified thyself? Or, what of the present? art thou indeed believing? hast thou a sure sense of thine interest in me and my redeeming work? Or what of the future? wilt thou undertake never to deny me again? what dost thou profess of penitence and faith? what dost thou promise? No such questions does the Lord put. Any of them would have tended to plunge the broken-hearted sinner, whose sin has found him out, in dark despair. He cannot face them. He cannot say that the tears he has shed prove enough of penitence; or that his trembling hope indicates enough of faith: or that the timid purpose he scarcely ventures to form, can be safely uttered as a promise or a vow. No question about them can he confidently meet. But the question, Lovest thou me? coming from him who can answer alike for the past, the present, and the future, that question he can meet. Lovest thou me? Thou knowest that I, who ask thee the question, have power on earth to forgive sin, all sin, thy sin. If it were not so, I would not now ask thee the question, Lovest thou me? It is as here and now forgiving thy sin that I ask if thou lovest me; if being forgiven, thou canst love me; if thou canst withhold thy love from my forgiving look. Ah! It is a blessed and gracious question. It carries in it so thorough an assurance of the forgiveness of sin and the healing of backsliding; coming as it does from him whom the sin has pierced and the backsliding pierced afresh. It is the question of the injured friend, the grieved brother. It is he who still, in spite of all, himself answering for all, puts the question, Lovest thou me?
II. The question is, at the very outset, about the degree of his love. Lovest thou me more than these? - i.e., more than these love me? But why should Peter be expected to love Jesus more than others? “Why but because he is forgiven more. So Peter feels now as he never felt it before. For he has made a sad discovery. Once he was ready to profess greater loyalty to Jesus than all the rest: Though all else forsake thee, yet will not I. He might then have answered yes, to the question, Lovest thou me more than these? but he does not so answer now.
Still he owns the fairness of the question. To whom much is forgiven the same loveth much; that he now practically and experimentally finds to be the law, the necessary law of the kingdom of grace. Yes, Lord! thou hast a right to put the question to me in that form! “Who ever had such cause to love thee as I? To whom has there ever been so much forgiveness extended as to me? I once thought I might promise to thee an allegiance beyond that of others. That delusion has been terribly shattered. I have only proved myself to be a sinner more than others, the chief of sinners, the worst of all thy followers - almost of thy foes. Well may I love thee more than all others; well mayest thou expect me to love thee more than all others, for who else has sinned against thee as I have sinned? Who, as I, has seen that look of thine turned on me in the judgment hall; or got that message from the tomb, Go tell the disciples and Peter? Well mayest thou ask, Lovest thou me more than these? But I cannot stand the question now. I feel that I ought to love thee more than ever saved man or holy angel loved thee. Alas! that I love thee so little in proportion to thy love in forgiving me so much! Alas! that I can but say; thanks, however, that I can say, Thou knowest that I love thee. To me, as to Peter, the question may well come home, in this comparative form, Lovest thou me more than these? Yes, Lord! thou hast a right thus to put it. It is no exaggeration when I confess myself the chief of sinners. It I know myself, I know more evil in myself than I can fancy in any one else. With my advantages, who would have so sinned as I have sinned? Would that I loved thee with a love worthy of thy love in forgiving such sin as mine! But thou wilt accept my humble answer? I dare not say that I love thee more than others; that I love thee as I own thou hast a right to expect that I should love thee, being forgiven so much. But Lord, thou, who by the very putting of the question assurest me of forgiveness, thou knowest that I love thee.
III. The question is thrice repeated. Various reasons may be assigned for this, one of them being very obvious - that Peter’s thrice-repeated denial of the Lord should be met by a thrice-repeated acknowledgment of his penitential profession, so as to place his restoration to the apostolic office, which he had forfeited, beyond all doubt. But we are now concerned about Peter’s own personal experience under this close dealing of his master with him. How did Peter feel when subjected to this triple questioning? To a mind like his, it must have been somewhat trying. Accordingly it is said that Peter was grieved. It is not said that he was angry, like Jonah. He had no right to be angry. He felt that he could not be surprised, or take it amiss, that his master should interrogate him closely. He who, after more than ordinary zeal in avowing his attachment, had thrice over, with oaths and cursing, denied the Lord, could not make it matter of offence that he should have to undergo the ordeal of a somewhat what strict inquiry, a sort of cross-examination, when he professed his loyalty again.
Still he was grieved. It seemed unlike the Lord’s usually gracious procedure thus to press him so hard; and all the more so, because he had so little to say for himself. It looked as if the Lord was wanting proof; calling for evidence; demanding confirmation. Thou sayest that thou lovest me. Thou canst not venture to say that thou lovest me more than others, though thou ownest that thou hast more cause to love me than all besides. Still thou sayest, Thou knowest that I love thee. Well. Art thou sure of this? And what assurance canst thou give of it? Bring forward thy witnesses. Produce thy testimonials.
Ah! what is a poor sinner like me to do when urged so hard? What witnesses can I cite? To what testimonials can I appeal? Can I summon the world, or my fellow-disciples, and say, These know that I love thee? Alas! they only know that I denied thee! Can I point to services rendered, sacrifices made, sufferings endured, and say, Lord, these prove that I love thee? Ah! the oaths and curses are but sorry evidences of fidelity! I have nothing to say. I can but cast myself on thee, - on thy indulgence! Nay; not on that merely, but on thine omniscience, - Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee! Nor is it to thy omniscience generally that I appeal, but to what I have known of it in my own case and in my own experience.
Yes, Lord, thou knowest all things! All the things that have passed between thee and me; all my dealings with thee, and all thy dealings with me. That look of thine which no eye saw but mine; those tears of mine which no eye saw but thine. Thou knowest all things; all that I have felt towards thee, and all that thou hast done for me, to me, in me. Thou knowest all my history, and all my heart. Thou knowest that I have good cause to love thee; that I well may love thee; that I cannot but love thee. Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.
IV. In all the three instances in which the question is put, the answer is followed up by the command, Feed my lambs: Feed my sheep: Feed my sheep. There is an obvious propriety in this. On the one hand, the question is a fitting preliminary to the command; on the other hand, the command is a fitting sequel to the question.
It is fitting that the Lord should question any into whose hands he is about to intrust the duty of feeding, in any way, his flock, about their love to himself. For the lambs, the sheep, are his own, very dear to him as his Father’s gift; as his purchased possession, for whom he laid down his life; in whom he sees of the travail of his soul and is satisfied; who have his Spirit given to them, to shut them up into him, and secure their abiding in him. It cannot be his pleasure that any should minister to them who do not love him. And then the work is itself of such a nature, and is to be carried on in such circumstances, that nothing but love to Christ will sustain any one in it. It is the work of doing good; going about among your fellow-men, not only to relieve their temporal wants, and soothe by sympathy their natural sorrows, but to deal with them about their souls - their eternal interests. It is not always easy work, or altogether pleasant work. You have to go out into the wilderness in search of lost ones wandering under the cloudy and dark day; into the streets and lanes of the city; into the highways and hedges, to compel them to come in. You have to lay your account with many annoyances, disappointments, and irksome provocations; much that is trying to your taste and temper, as well as to your faith and hope. It is no ordinary motive that will make you steadfast, persevering, abounding in this work of the Lord. Have you not found this to be true, you who have made the trial? You undertake some portion of the work, or some department of it, with great alacrity at first. There is a charm of novelty about it; an air of romance. You are sanguine and enthusiastic. Alas! how soon have offences come, and vexations, crosses, and cares, begetting weariness, despondency, disgust, or a longing to attempt some brighter and more hopeful task. The people you once delighted to visit cease to interest you. The very children are lambs no longer, but rude plagues; they irritate instead of attracting you. The labour ceases to be a labour of love!
Yes; that is it. Love is wanting. And it is love to the master that is wanting. You are leaving your first love to him. Nay, in some habit of your inner life, or in some way of your outer walk, you may be denying him; disowning him; showing yourself ashamed of him; practically saying, by your worldly conformity, I know him not.
Hark! it is the cock crowing! See, it is that eye! The Lord turns and looks upon thee. Let thy sin now instantly find thee out. Let there be a new personal dealing between Jesus and thee about it. Oh! come, repent, and do thy first works. Taste anew the blessedness of loving much because forgiven much. Let Jesus ask thee now anew and afresh, Lovest thou me? Wilt thou not reply. Thou knowest that I love thee? I have not given up loving thee. No, I cannot; for thy love to me now, in asking me once more if I love thee, and asking me that on the footing of thy forgiveness of me once more, makes me beg thee to trust me once more. Once more, Lord, give me credit when I once more say, Thou knowest that I love thee! Try me again. Let me hear thy voice once more, - Feed my lambs; feed my sheep. On the other hand, the command is a fitting sequel to the question. If love is genuine, it seeks a vent. It burns to express itself in act as well as in word. It would fain show itself in ministering to the loved one personally. So her love who, being forgiven much, loved much, showed itself, when she stood behind Jesus, bathing his feet with tears, and wiping them with the hairs of her head. So love showed itself when she poured out on him whom she loved the costliest ointment. Him however we have not with us now. But his representatives we have, the poor, his lambs, his sheep; his brethren, to whom he will point at the last day, saying, “Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these, ye did it unto me.” And not merely as a manifestation and test of love to himself does Jesus bid us minister to those whom he thus identifies with himself, but as the means, also, of keeping that love to himself alive, in vigorous and healthy exercise. For if it is true that none are asked, that none are likely to be long willing, to feed his lambs, his sheep, except those who love him - love him with much love, springing ever freshly anew out of a sense of much forgiveness; the converse also is true; none will continue long to love him with sound mind and warm heart, who are not ministering to the poor, to his brethren, as to himself. I say with sound mind; for love, especially divine love, love to the unseen Jesus, may be nursed in the soul that is withdrawn from its fellows, and strives to dwell with him alone. But then it becomes morbid, diseased, unnatural, and unwholesome. I say also with warm heart. Yes! I would love Jesus with warm heart as well as with sound mind. Then let me see to it that I minister to the poor, to the brethren, as his; that I feed the lambs, the sheep, as his. For everything depends on that, on your identifying them with him in your actual ministering to them; as he does in his acceptance of your ministry.
It is not merely that for his sake, and in his name, you speak to the weary a word in season, and do good as you have opportunity. You are to realise and feel that it is verily and indeed to him, to his own very self, that in that weary one you are speaking the word you speak, and doing the good you do. You are not merely to go forth from him to minister, out of love to him, to a brother man or a brother Christian. You are to recognise in the brother, while you are in the very act of ministering to him, not so much himself, as Jesus, your master and his. It is not merely for Jesus whom you love that you minister; but to Jesus also. Whatever you do, in word or deed, you do it unto him. Let this be the spirit in which you obey his command. Feed my lambs; feed my sheep. Let it be as ministering, not to the lambs, the sheep, but to him whose they are. Let every act of benevolent love to any one of them be, in the very doing of it, a conscious act of pious love to him.
Then, and only then; thus, and only thus, will your diligence and zeal in every good work quicken and enhance your affection to the Lord; and you will know more and more in your experience, how fitting it is for Jesus to follow up his question, Lovest thou me, by requiring you to feed his flock, his poor ones; and by requiring this, not merely as the evidence and expression of the love which you profess; but as the best and most effectual means of exercising it and causing it to grow.
V. Immediately on Peter’s last and strongest avowal of his love; that which contains so touching an appeal to all that had passed between them, - Lord, thou knowest all things, the Lord gives the intimation as to Peter’s martyrdom: - “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, when thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee and carry thee whither thou wouldest not. This spake he, signifying by what death he should glorify God” (John 21:18-19). It is the Lord’s usual manner. He will enlist none in his service unawares, or upon impulse; or without intimation beforehand of the risk to be run and the fate to be expected (Luke 9:57-58). But here the announcement is very significant, as well as very solemn and startling. Is there a pause after Peter’s abrupt cutting short, as it were, of this examination? Lord, I can say no more. I can give thee no farther assurance. I can but appeal to thyself as knowing all things; all my history and all my heart. Thou knowest that I love thee. Is that all? Does the Lord wait for something more? - “and I will lay down my life for thy sake.” If so, he waits in vain.
I love thee. I know and thou knowest that I love thee. But it is not as I loved thee before, when I thought only of befriending thee, and standing by thee heroically to the last. That confidence is dashed; if I love thee now, it is as looking to thee, who didst look on me in my sin with a look so full of pity and of pardon. Peter has no heart now for any bold braving ultroneously of prison or of death. He cannot go beyond - Thou knowest that I love thee.
But, going thus far, he can hear without dismay what the Lord has to tell of a death awaiting him more terrible by far than ever he could have imagined. Yes; for it is not now Peter, a bold man, boldly volunteering; but Peter, a meek man, meekly acquiescing; not now Peter, confident in his own strength of purpose, bent on protecting and patronising Christ and his cause, even unto death; but Peter, a debtor to Christ and his grace, not saying what he is ready to do and to suffer, but simply waiting to hear what may be the Lord’s will.
How changed, as regards this whole matter of suffering with and for Jesus, is this high-minded and high-spirited apostle! He is high-minded and high-spirited still, in a right sense and on a right footing. But it is towards men, not towards the Lord. He loved Jesus before; warmly, strongly, boldly. But it was with the sort of love which makes partizans rally round the standard of their favourite chief. “To the death for him” is their war-cry. Shame on the coward, traitor, slave, who would turn and flee m the decisive hour! Rather than desert him we will drain our dearest veins.
Such dauntless courage, such devoted allegiance, is invaluable in its right place. It has achieved the liberty, - alas! that we must add it has sealed the slavery, of nations. It has but small room, however, if any, within the camp of Christ. His people, indeed, are willing in the day of his power. But it is the willingness of passive rather than of active bravery. There is no risk now of Peter drawing his sword, and making it needful for his master to undo, by a miracle, the effect of his haste. Nor will his master hear now from his lips any confident boasting. Peter is silent, submissive; promising no service ultroneously; offering himself for no voluntary martyrdom; shrinking rather into himself; slow to speak if swift to hear. He simply waits. He receives the command, Peed my sheep; and the warning as to the death by which he is to glorify God, in meek and dumb acquiescence. But the acquiescence, meek and dumb as it is - nay, all the rather for its very meekness and dumbness - is more trustworthy than all his old profession; for it is the acquiescence of one who is now brought thoroughly to feel that he is nothing, and that Jesus is all in all.
VI. The Lord crowns the whole conversation with the call, “Follow me” (John 21:19); a call which he emphatically repeats after his reply to Peter’s loving question about John, “Follow thou me” (John 21:22). Is this, on the Lord’s part, a recall of the somewhat stern and sharp negative which he interposed before he suffered, in the way of Peter’s confident challenge. Why cannot I follow thee now? It would seem to be so.
Look at that conversation: John 13:31-38.
Jesus says to the eleven, for the traitor has gone out (John 13:30), I am about to leave you, and to leave you in circumstances that will call for all the support and comfort that your loving one another as I have loved you, can afford. I am with you only for a little while. And when I go, I go whither you cannot come any more than the Jews. For the present, at least for a time, you, my friends, are as much shut out from going with me as my bitterest foes. Surely he speaks with reference to that work which he has to finish, alone, with the Father; that treading of the winepress alone which was the consummation of his great atonement. From disciples and enemies, from friends and foes alike, I go apart, to complete a transaction with the Righteous Father, in which none can be associated with me; satisfying divine justice and expiating human guilt. He does not explain this at the time. He gives no account of what he is to be about when he is gone whither his disciples cannot come. He seems even to place them on the same footing as to this with the Jews, to whom he had addressed a similar saying. The question of Peter, - Lord, Whither goest thou? brings out a distinction. “Whither I go, is the Lord’s reply, thou canst not follow me now; but thou shalt follow me afterwards. He did not say that, he could not say it, to the unbelieving Jews. But to his chosen and faithful ones he gives the assurance, that this impossibility of their following him is only temporary. Still there is reserve as to what he is to be doing when he goes whither they cannot follow him; and as to why he cannot have them with him in doing it. The others, as it might seem, acquiesce, and are willing to wait; but Peter’s impetuosity, as usual, hurries him on. He jumps to the conclusion that it must be distrust of his courage that makes the Lord decline his company at this crisis; Lord, why cannot I follow thee now? I will lay down my life for thy sake. Is it so? rejoins the Lord. Art thou really ready to die with me? Nay, apart from the peculiar character of my death, into which thou canst not enter; looking at it simply as a common martyrdom; dying for the truth’s sake; I tell thee, that so far from being able to share even such a death with me, the cock shall not crow before thou hast denied me thrice. Yes! truly, thou canst not follow me now?
Surely all this is in the Lord’s view when he says here, Follow me; follow thou me. Yes! the time has come of which I spoke when I said, thou shalt follow me afterwards. The time has fully come; for not only hast thou some insight, which the Spirit will soon make clearer and deeper, into the real reason why none could go with me into that terrible agony of sin’s expiation; but thou art thyself also of another mind as to thy true position in my kingdom. And the first change explains the last. Thou seest that I had a work to finish in which thou couldst have no hand; that I had to go down into a deep that would have overwhelmed thee for ever in the dark gloom of hell; that I had to go forward to a dealing with the Father in thy stead, and on thy behalf; that, if thou hadst been a party to it, must have sealed thy doom, as condemned and accursed for ever. Thou seest, and thou wilt see more and more, as the Spirit gives thee light, that my leaving thee behind when I had that business to accomplish - leaving thee out of it - was the very condition of its being available for thee; that I must needs suffer alone and without thee the judgment from which I had to deliver thee; that I must die alone and without thee the death from which I had to save thee.
Ah! and it is because thine eyes are opened, and are opening more and more to this great reason why thou couldst not follow me then, that thou art fit for being called to follow me now; to follow me, though a worse martyrdom by far awaits thee than that from which thy weak denial of thy master gave thee a poor escape. For now thou realisest thy true standing; - as not a powerful adherent, offering thy countenance and thy company, but a poor sinner, a mere debtor to grace alone; forgiven much, loving; but thou canst not say, loving enough; fain to cast thyself, helpless, self-distrusting, self-condemning, on the indulgent pity and almighty strength of him whom thou hast pierced.
Now, therefore, he says, Follow me. Follow me in the following up and following out of that work with reference to which I said that thou couldst not follow me then. Follow me now, as loving me, and prepared to feed my sheep, and to die with me now; nor consider thy lot hard if thou shouldst have to glorify God by a bloody death; and thy beloved friend should tarry, if I will, till I come. “What is that to thee? Follow thou me.” It may be allowed to thee so far to feel an interest in the future of thy friend. Thou wouldst have his course in following me marked out as clearly as thine own, and, if possible, associated with thine own. Thou wouldst know what he is to do, and by what death he is to glorify God; not for thine own satisfaction merely, but it may be for his. But what if I will that he is to glorify God by not dying at all? Leave all that to me; what is it to thee? Let thine eye be singly intent on thine own walk. Thou art not to follow John, nor is John to follow thee. Nor are you two, John and thou, to follow me in any way that you may concert and arrange between you. Thou must needs glorify God by a cruel, horrid death. He may peacefully pass away, or tarry till I come: what is that to thee? Follow thou me. He is in my hands as thou art, and thou needst give thyself no concern about any difference of lot, or any temporary separation that such difference may cause; thou glorifying me by a cruel death, he, if I will, tarrying till. I come. No; for then you both shall meet, and meet to part no more. Then, when I come; when the dead shall be raised, thou being among them and the living shall be changed, John, if I will, being among them; and all shall forever be with me, the Lord.