May 4, 2025 – The Third Sunday of Easter
The Rev. Mary Davis
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer. Amen.
Sometimes, especially in my younger years, change can seem glacial. Minutes pass by . . . which turn into hours . . . which turn into days . . . and when you finally pick your head up to look in the mirror, you see this (gray hair), and you realize that years have passed.
But then there are also those moments in life when, in a flash, everything is different. And in those moments, you know that you are changed instantly, and that the trajectory of your life going forward is also changed. Like with Saul or Paul’s experience that we heard from Acts this morning.
But, at least in my life, not every moment of change comes with a voice from heaven, a bright light or temporary blindness. I remember the night I gave birth to our first born child, Ryan. I had had a long and difficult labor, and in the middle of the night after he was finally born, the nurses had to whisk him away to the NICU for an extra level of care. So I did what any other person might do in that situation . . . I went to sleep. But when I woke up the next morning, I vividly remember my thought process, which went something like this: ‘Wow, I had a baby last night. I’m a mother now. And as much as I’d like to go back to sleep, I need to go check on my baby.’ And so it went. I took the next steps into my new, changed life, picked up the phone, called my nurse, and together we walked to the nursery to check on little Ryan. In a flash, everything was different, and I was a different person. Everything had changed, and bam, I was a mother.
Certainly there have been other times in my life when things changed on a dime. It happened on the morning of 9/11 when my husband left for his work day on the 62nd floor of the World Trade Center, and mercifully returned home to tell the story of his escape from Manhattan alive. It happened when Super Storm Sandy devastated New Jersey with high winds and extensive flooding. Everything had changed, including the landscape with downed giant trees and homes that had been destroyed. Things were different after that.
Even last week, in our Gospel, we heard about that moment in Thomas’ life when everything changed, when Jesus found him, even in his doubts and questions. And today’s Gospel from John offers us that moment of change in Peter’s life. The disciples, especially Peter, have been through the unimaginable. A long, difficult labor . . . a tragic terrorist attack . . . a scary stormy dark night (if you will). Just over a week ago, the disciples were sitting and eating with their beloved teacher, friend and Lord, and then they watched him die. Well, maybe they didn’t actually watch him die, because it was only the women who stuck around for that, but they experienced Jesus’ brutal execution and with that, they tried to wrap their head around (what they thought to be) the crushing defeat of that “new” kingdom Jesus was always talking about. So they huddled together, behind locked doors, holding the shock of Jesus’ betrayal and the shame of Peter’s denial, and the fear that they too might be the next to die. Only to discover, in the midst of their lowest low, that Jesus had done what he said he would do. Jesus had risen from the dead. He was alive and had appeared to the disciples three times now, and shocker of shocker, Jesus still loved them. Jesus was still pursuing and calling them. Even though they had fallen asleep, betrayed or abandoned him, when Jesus needed them most.
So the Gospel writer of John brings Peter back to “that” place. Back to the charcoal fire. To spotlight the moment of change in Peter’s life. And he shares with us Peter’s thought process. There are only two places in the New Testament where a “charcoal fire” is mentioned, and this is one of them. Do you remember the other “charcoal fire” moment?? It was the place where Peter was standing on that dark, cold night, just over a week ago, where three times, Peter denied knowing Jesus. Only now, as Peter stands, warming and drying himself by the charcoal fire, probably flooded with regret and guilt, and probably even shame, Jesus is there, asking him three times, “Do you love me?” Peter’s thought process had to be something like this, “I messed up, said three times that I didn’t even know him. And yet this person, the one I love most in the world, is still looking me in the eyes and giving me another chance.” And, of course, as we just heard, three times, Peter tells Jesus, “Yes, I do love you.”
This is the moment, that flash in time when Peter is changed. He confesses his love for Jesus, again, and now Jesus tells him, “Ok, so do something. Go, and feed my sheep. Follow me.” The trajectory of Peter’s life was changed by Jesus’ complete, forgiving, and continual love. And in that moment, Peter moves into his new life as “Rock,” and spreads the Gospel truth of Jesus’ healing, redemptive, and everlasting love.
And this is pretty much where John’s Gospel, the fourth and final of our canonical Gospels, ends. John brings us into this scene – this conversation, this conversion, this moment of change – so that we, too can be a part of it. Jesus is standing here with us as well, in the cold, long, scary nights of our lives, in our regret, guilt, fear, shame, or brokenness. Jesus knows that we have forsaken our Creator, denied our likeness of God, and betrayed one another, time and time again. And yet, he lights for us, a fire of forgiveness and eternal love.
“Do you love me,” he asks? God in Christ is breathing new life into all of us. We are forgiven. We are loved. And in this moment, today, we are changed. So Jesus tells us, “Feed my sheep.” So go, get up and walk to the nursery to check on your child, who will now be the center of your life. Go, get up and live each day as a gift, because each day is uncertain and precious. Go, get up and tend to those who are suffering, cold and hungry after a storm blows through. That’s what “Feed my sheep” has meant at these critical moments of change in my life.
What does “Feed my sheep” mean to you? How will you continue this Gospel story, tending to the lambs in your life that need compassion and forgiveness? And also, consider what is OUR Good News here, the Good News that we proclaim together as a community of faith, a living legacy of Peter, who stood dripping wet in front of that fire on the seashore with the Risen Lord?
This is THAT moment. This is OUR moment. The risen Lord is in our midst. In the Eucharist. In the community gathered. So everything is different now. This is our moment to choose whether we will stand here, still and stunned in Jesus’ presence, or whether we will step forward in the confidence and trust of being chosen by Jesus himself. It’s time for us to search for those – and there are so many right now – who need protection, love, and the wholeness that God offers the world. Go, and live your life. This is our moment to write our own Gospel ending. Amen.
Year C – The Third Sunday of Easter – May 4, 2025 – The Rev. Mary Davis
