It seems to me that the crowing of the rooster was still ringing in Peter's ears and the guilt and sorrow was still hardening into depression when after some days of trying to relieve his demoralizing sense of failure he said, "I'm going fishing!" I think that the combination of his personal breakdown outside the place of Jesus' trial and the apparent collapse of Jesus' message and mission had been the one-two knockdown blow for this battling preacher. And so he said to his friends, who he sensed felt much as he did, "I'm going out to fish" (John 21:3, NIV). "I'm going back to a surer thing... back to an easier, less demanding, less controversial, less reproached, more socially accepted way of life.... I've got to get back to something in which I know I can be more than the failure I am.... I'm simply getting out." And giving him the confirmation he thought would be forthcoming, his closest friends agreed, "We'll go with you" (verse 3, NIV). Peter's colleagues apparently didn't need much persuading.
Reading the text thoughtfully definitely suggests that Peter's words did not simply suggest a nostalgic, one night fishing excursion on Galilee just for old time's sake. It rather implies that Peter was chucking his call to ministry and permanently returning to his old way of life. In this disciple's brief announcement there was disillusionment and exasperation, along with a shade of desperation. Behind it was the powerful desire just to be a simple fisherman again. I think Peter felt powerful urges to find relief from pharisaic scrutiny and to be part of a tested, traditional way of life where there would be consistency, normality, and respectability. And the others obviously felt much the same way, because they all got into the boat and sailed off (verse 3). Most significantly, the clarion call of Jesus, echoing so powerfully across those same shores just three and a half years before, had dissolved into liquid pain and pain's frequent companion, timidity.
I must confess that in more than one part of the pastoral world in which I circulate, there are feelings similar to those of Peter and the others. And if you really think about it, there may be for some of us similar reasons for the presence of those feelings. The assaults upon the validity of our calling and our ministry are substantial. The suggestion confronts us to doubt the authenticity and significance of what we have thrown our lives and souls into. The pertinence of what we are all about is cross-examined and challenged by imposing people in impressive places. The weight of ministry in a predominantly post- or non-Christian culture can be daunting. And perhaps we have, much to our own consternation and camouflaged discomfort, found ourselves denying the significance of our message and identity or apologizing for its apparent lack of soundness as we stand seeking warmth with suspicious strangers around a fire on a cold night with Truth on trial, not understanding the significance of what is actually happening before our eyes (John 18:15-26).
It is fascinating to observe that after these seven disciples got into the boat and sailed off, any initial excitement was dampened when they fished all night and caught absolutely nothing (John 21:2,3). It is even more fascinating to consider that divine Providence seemed to have a hand in the initial failure of this fishing expedition and that the same Providence stood on the shore in the early morning to bring success to the same expedition and meaning out of their bewilderment. Jesus met them at the focal point of their confusion, offering them a productive suggestion about their fishing and providing them breakfast. But that was only after a dark, discouraging night.
It was not long, however, before Peter might have wished that Jesus had not appeared. Breakfast was just over when Jesus began to reinstate Peter, though restoration was the last thing that it felt like to Peter. He may have hoped that Jesus would pass over his horrible failure. But that could not be if Peter was to be salvaged. So the Lord asked Peter that penetrating, loaded question, "Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?" (John 21:15). "Peter, you need to think; you need at this most difficult, uncertain moment of your existence to be confronted by the bottom-line query, 'Do you love me?' 'Do you truly love me?' 'Do you love me more than you do fish and fishing or anything else?' If you do love me, then simply get back to feeding my sheep and lambs" (verses 15-17).
The implication is clear: Fulfilling the call of Christ is something that supersedes all priorities because it flows from that which is fundamental love for Christ and the sheep and the lambs. Does it happen that when the passion to feed the sheep wanes and the itch to go fishing waxes, the fundamental cause may well have much more to do with whether or not our love for Him is fresh and alive?
We cannot, by the nature of things, afford to get soft on "the heavenly vision" itself (Acts 26:19). Doing so opens the door to all sorts of negative prospects. It is for us, as it was for Peter, to listen to the uncomfortable, yet magnificently restorative, words of the Lord and confirm our love for Him and our resulting "obedience" to the vision He has called us into.
Earth-shattering failures (our own and apparent failures in the essential aspects of our faith) have a definite way of overwhelming us. The oceans roar, the mountains shake, the earth seems removed. We stand on the cliff-edge of doom, but God is in the midst of her, and she shall not be moved. God shall help her ... There is a River ...
"Step out of the traffic! Take a long, loving look at me, your High God, above politics, above everything" (Psalm 46, The Message).
For each of Peter's three denials, his Lord offered him an occasion to affirm the reality that it was his waning love that underlay his failure. He was given the threefold opportunity to affirm his heartfelt love.
The same magnificent opportunity is offered us. And it is decisively important that the last words of Jesus in the Gospels are addressed unequivocally to Peter the struggling minister: "You must follow me" (John 21:22, NIV).
