Peter at Sea on the Eighth Day

In a recent quiet day on Ash Wednesday at Trinity, Ambridge, I reflected on John 21, and in particular His interrogation of Peter. What if we take that passage as our starting place for ministry, namely our own incapacity and need of forgiveness. What if we can only be its witness to others as people in need of it ourselves? What if ministry begins with forgiveness, a meal with the risen Christ, and being sent out to suffering which Jesus, in the Gospel of John, consistently describes as 'glory'?
  
We preachers all know of times when our listeners heard things different from what we intended. Well, I had the opposite experience: a seminarian heard more than I said, and expressed it better! So I offer her poem for your own Lenten reflection.
 

Peter at Sea on the Eighth Day

By Deanna Briody

I have shown myself a servant
neither faithful nor good.
Forgive me, my master, my friend.
Hear my regret even as you lay dead,
bearing my betrayal in both feet, both hands,
   the ghosts of nails
   in your skin.
 
Know that I have returned to serving the sea
—a lord I can neither kill nor betray—
resuming my life as a fisher of fish
   and rightly so,
   dead master, dead friend.
 
How is it, then, that you appear even now
on the shore of oceanic inadequacy,
telling me, telling me still,
   where I am
   to cast my net?
 
How is it that you appear
alive again, bearing a word of promise
and command, and a question
   which begs a surer answer
   than I can give?
 
Do not cease to ask me,
risen master, risen friend.
Sit with me and eat,
send me out to feed your sheep, but
do not cease to ask me
   until you make of me
   the answer that you seek.
 
Dress me in yourself, Lord Christ,
and bring me, bring me where I do not
wish to go, that through this dreaded death
—on your cross with arms outstretched—
I may know your risen life,
and come to answer,
   “Yes, my master;
   Yes, my friend;
         I love you.”
           And you need not ask again.

Complete the Race (II Timothy 4:17)

At the end of our vacation we find ourselves in Chicago for its Marathon weekend (the fastest, I have read this morning, perhaps because it is cool and relatively level). Marathons offer many good things. You can see world-class athletes from places like Ethiopia and Kenya. There is a feel of fiesta with signs by family members, getups by some for-fun runners, and food for sale.

But as I looked out my hotel window at 7:30 a.m., I watched the race of competitors who have lost legs or their use. Wheeling vehicles by arm for 26 miles means serious fitness and determination.

Those competitors were to me, this morning, a symbol of the Church too. For each is wounded. The larger family cheers them on. Each by grace has risen up to run the race. Ahead is the goal, the prize, the welcome home. We find the companionship of Jesus the Lord, there, and along the route too.

Amen.

GRS