Many years ago when I was rather younger and fitter than I am now I was a member of a local Rescue Team. Our remit was partly Mountain Rescue but since the mountains in our area were rather made up of hills and moors this was not the dramatic role you might expect. We tended to get calls to assist in domestic situations where, after a huge argument, the man had slammed out of the house and driven off into the hills only to have his abandoned car found at the top of a farm track a day or so later. We'd get called in to search for the missing person and, on more than one occasion, our team prevented suicides or deaths as a result of people going for a walk to 'cool off' but then getting lost on the hills as bad weather closed in.
We trained quite regularly covering everything from off-road driving to rope rescues and stretcher carrying. We also did frequent first-aid courses as well as rescue type scenario exercises. One of the most interesting aspects of this training was where we trained. If you drove past the building you wouldn't think there was anything out of the ordinary: It looked just like a standard Fire Station. However, a nondescript door around the side of the building let into a sealed stairwell which dropped deep below the station into an underground bunker which had its own air, water and power supplies and was equipped to withstand usage over a lengthy period of time as a command centre. I assume this command bunker was built during the height of the 'Cold War' but, by the time we got to use it that was more or less over and the bunker was just a great place to run training sessions.
As I think back on these events it strikes me as quite remarkable that our entire reason for existing as a team, and for dedicating all our time to training and preparation, was purely for when things had gone wrong for someone. Without disaster or mishap we were redundant and all of our training useless. Only when things had gone horribly wrong for someone did we serve a useful purpose.
That gets me thinking about the way most of us live our lives. You see most of us are not very good at preparing for things to go wrong. A couple of weeks ago I got stuck on a snowy hill late at night along with around a hundred other cars. I was the only person present with a shovel to clear the snow and get home. Why? Well, all the other drivers just 'hoped' everything would go well and they wouldn't need to respond to the emergency. I wonder how different we are as Christians?
This character trait is most obvious around the time of the New Year when we all make Resolutions to do something better in the coming year but it is also a fairly frequent exercise that Christians get involved in. We plan to do better in the coming year. Perhaps we plan to spent more time in prayer or study, perhaps we aim to overcome some character weakness we are aware of. We plan to be more patient, less irate with family or colleagues. We plan never to make the same mistakes again when we've fallen short of the standard we aspire to.
But what happens when it all goes wrong? What happens when we 'lose it' yet again? What about when we are tactless – yet again? What about when the demands of work or family cut into our devotional time? What do we do? Are we as prepared as a rescue team has to be or do we find ourselves stuck in the snow without a shovel to clear a way forward?
I want to take, for our study today, the story of a man who got it horribly wrong but I want to focus on the way God, through Jesus, put it back right again afterwards. The man is Peter and the story is of his denial of Jesus. It's a well known story but let's consider it from the point of view of making our own preparations to deal with our, all too common, failures.
Our story starts in the Upper Room where Jesus and his disciples are together to celebrate the Passover. (Matt 26:17-) For some time Jesus has been dropping hints to his disciples that things won't go quite the way they expected. They were hoping for a glorious Messiah figure who would smash the Roman invaders and restore a glorious Republic of Israel. While most of what Jesus told them would happen clearly went right over their heads something must have stuck because I sense, in this story of the Last Supper, a real tension among the disciples. Then Jesus announces to the startled disciples (Matt 26:31) that they will all desert him that very evening.
Peter is the only one who protests (vs 33, 35) that he would rather die than disown Jesus. I find that fact quite amazing. Don't you? That out of the twelve only one had the courage to even say that he would stand up for Jesus.
We jump forward to the garden scene (John 18:10) and we find that Peter is as good as his word! In fact, not only does he intend to stick with Jesus he has actually come prepared to do so! Peter whips out the sword he'd brought, just in case, and takes a swing at one of the mob. Don't imagine for one minute that 'the servant of the high priest' was some immature boy. It's much more likely that the High Priest, knowing full well the dubious nature of what he was doing, sent out the biggest, ugliest, meanest looking servant he could find to do his dirty work.
Jesus rebukes Peter and Matthew records a rather interesting statement: “Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels?” (Matt 26:53) A Roman Legion varied in size during the time of the occupation but it was typically over 5,000 men plus auxiliaries. Jesus states, therefore, that God could send him in excess of 60,000 angels on his request. Let's just digress for a moment. Do you recall incident where the Assyrian army was besieging Jerusalem and an 'angel of the Lord' went out and put 185,000 soldiers to death in one night? (2 Kings 19:35)
Well, if one angel could put to death 185,000 soldiers who threatened his people then how many could 60,000 angels cope with? The numbers get a bit meaningless at this point but it is 11,100,000,000. That's, wait for it, 11 billion, 100 million soldiers. Suggestions as to the total population of the world at the time of Christ vary between 200 – 300 Million. But, even if you take the larger figure you can work out that the army Jesus mentions could put the entire population of the world to death 37 times over!
I don't think Jesus was doing the maths! I think he was just trying to point out to Peter how futile his efforts were and that makes me think of something regarding our salvation. You see, Peter made a huge effort on Jesus behalf but it made absolutely no difference to the outcome that night. However, in Peter's efforts we see something important. While he made no difference to anything he certainly showed the world whose side he was on. And that is what we, as Christians, must seek to do. Nothing we do, none of our efforts, make any difference to our salvation or earn us forgiveness but our efforts to be like Christ certainly show the watching world whose side we are on!
The next part of the story is the sad bit. Peter, with the adrenaline draining from his system, follows Jesus down to the court room and finds himself in the courtyard surrounded by other onlookers gawking at the spectacle of a late night trial. Caught off his guard by a young girl Peter ends up denying Christ. Three times.
We pick up the story again in John 21. Time has passed and Peter has decided that perhaps he just isn't cut out for the role of disciple. So, taking the later advice of Chris Rea, he goes fishing. All night long Peter and his companions fish the lake but they catch nothing. Can you imagine how despondent they must have felt? Not only had their attempts at discipleship come to nothing; not only had their hopes for a revolution come to nothing but now, back at their previous vocation, it turns out they've lost their skills completely.
Finally, as dawn begins to grey the sky, a stranger on the shore suggests they try the other side of the boat. They take his advice and immediately their net fills with fish. John instantly identifies the stranger as Jesus. In a flash Peter is over the side of the boat and half swimming half wading he gets to Jesus on the shore and finds a fire burning with breakfast prepared.
I love this part of the story. To me this event is almost as beautiful as Jesus washing the disciple's feet in the upper room. Can you imagine Jesus, the creator of the universe, stumbling around in the pre-dawn dark collecting a jar of flour, a bottle of olive oil and his filleting knife? Can you imagine Jesus kneeling on the cold shingle of the beach trying to start the driftwood fire, perhaps burning his fingers in the process. Can you imagine the Almighty God Incarnate gutting fish – a messy process – because he knows his friends will be tired and discouraged after the night's work? In so many ways this visual story tells us about the way God loves us and comes down to our level to meet us.
After breakfast a very strange dialogue unfolds between Jesus and Peter and it is to this we now turn. Jesus asks Peter, three times, whether he loves him. Now, if you or I were inventing this dialogue we might well script Jesus' questions as follows:
Jesus: “Peter. Do you love me?”
Peter: “Yes Lord.”
Jesus: “Peter, do you really love me?”
Peter: “Yes. Of course I do.”
Jesus: “Peter, do you love me enough to leave your old life, again, and tend my sheep?”
In this dialogue there is a sort of crescendo, a movement toward a climax. However, the dialogue between Jesus and Peter doesn't seem to follow any obvious pattern. In fact, if we're looking for a pattern it almost seems to start with the 'biggest' question and end with an anti-climax. Now, there are good explanations offered as to why this is the case and we'll look at one in just a moment but I do want to just address one suggestion I really don't agree with.
Some have suggested that what is significant about this dialogue is the fact that Jesus questions Peter three times. They link the number three to the number of times Peter denied Christ and suggest an almost 'penance' type of situation in which Peter must be ritually humiliated in front of his friends (remember, blokes just don't like to say “I love you” - especially not in public!) in order to make up for his prior sin. I'm afraid I don't like that idea. The idea that Jesus forces Peter to the point of humiliation in front of the group just doesn't fit with the picture of Jesus I see elsewhere in the Gospels. Where is the suggestion of penance when Jesus is left with the woman caught in adultery? Does Jesus ask her a set number of questions based on the number of extramarital affairs she's had? Of course not.
So, here is a more plausible explanation. But before I outline this for you I acknowledge that not all Bible scholars agree with the following analysis which is based on interpretation of the original language. However, I feel this offers a very clear explanation of the dialogue which brings it to life in a way other interpretations do not.
To my mind the fundamental problem with this dialogue is that we are reading it in English not in Greek. Greek had four words to describe 'love' while English has to make do with just one. Of those four Greek words one had fallen into disuse by the time of the New Testament but two different words are used in this dialogue. These are the words “Agape” and “Phileo”. Agape is a word many Christians are familiar with but, just to ensure our understanding is clear, this is the word we find in texts such as John 3:16 “For God so 'agape' loved the world.” The same word is used in John 15:13 where Jesus says: “Greater 'agape' has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.” So, we get a clear picture of 'agape' love as describing a sacrificial love which puts the needs of the other person above our own. This is perfectly exemplified in the love God shows for us.
The other word used in this dialogue between Jesus and Peter is “phileo” which is typically understood either as 'brotherly love' or as a 'friendship' kind of love. This is the word you would use to describe the way you feel about your 'mates' at the golf club or a colleague you really get along well with. The associations are quite different from those of the word 'agape'.
Just before we move on with this I want to address at least one of the questions that some scholars will raise about the use of these words. Some will point out that, in the Greek Septuagint, the word 'agape' is sometimes used to describe brotherly love or even, in the case of the Song of Solomon, erotic love (for which Greek later uses the word 'eros'). I dare to suggest that what we see here is a simple change in the use of language over time. The Septuagint was translated between the 2nd and 3rd centuries BC. The New Testament was written during the first century AD. During two or three hundred years words change their meaning or usage. We've already seen that the forth Greek word for love, 'storge' had fallen from common use by the time of the New Testament.
Imagine, if you wish to consider a modern comparison, our use of the word 'gay'. Just twenty years ago this still meant 'happy'. Then it was taken by the homosexual community and used to describe homosexuals but, more recently, it was taken up by the younger generation and used to describe something 'rubbish'. So, an electronic toy which broke down would be described as 'gay'. At present this word 'gay' has come back into use to describe homosexuality. In the space of little over twenty years this one word has gone through three changes of use. An extreme example to be sure but other words undergo similar transitions.
So, back to the dialogue. When you insert the original words you find something really interesting. Inserting the Greek words, and keeping their meanings in mind, we find the following:
“Peter, do you 'agape' love me more than these?”
“Yes, Lord. You know that I 'phileo' love you.”
Notice the change! Peter would love to be able to answer Jesus in the affirmative and he knows the 'right' answer is 'yes'. But he can't. Far too fresh in his mind is the fact that when his 'agape' love was put to the test, despite his claim in the upper room that he would lay down his life for his friend (agape love), he actually denied his love for Christ and even denied knowing him.
So, Peter plays a word-game with Jesus. He would love to be able to just say “yes” but he can't. So, instead, he offers Jesus what he can – his undying friendship.
A second time Jesus asks Peter the same thing and the second time Peter responds in the same way. He can't actually claim 'yes' to Jesus' question about 'agape' love so he dodges the question and offers 'phileo' love instead.
Finally, Jesus asks Peter a third time but, and this is a very important part of the dialogue, Jesus this time asks Peter using Peter's own language. “Peter, do you 'phileo' love me?”
Shocked, and hurt, that Jesus has come down to his level, Peter almost snaps back at Jesus, “You know everything so you should know the kind of love I can and can't offer to you!”
By the way. There is one other interesting aspect to this study. When Jesus and Peter had this conversation it is almost certain they were speaking in Aramaic, not Greek. Therefore, if we accept this interpretation of the passage we must also accept that it was John, acting under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, who used those Greek words to best communicate what he understood as the deeper meaning of the dialogue he'd witnessed on that beach more than half a century earlier.
If you accept this understanding of this passage I think a wonderful picture of Jesus is shown here. Jesus wants us to be like him. Jesus would love our every action to be motivated by 'his' kind of love – 'agape' love (if you accept that understanding of the Greek usage). However, he knows that we are weak and fickle and that we so often fail to reach the standard he would have us reach. This dialogue shows very clearly how willing Jesus is to stoop down to our level accepting the imperfect love and service we can offer while making up for our deficiencies with his grace.
This, to my mind, is one of the key things which sets Christianity apart from other religions and philosophies. So many other belief systems demand that the believer attain a certain standard in order to be accepted. You have to 'attain enlightenment' or reach a high standard of knowledge or discipline before the deity will take notice of you. Christianity is based upon precisely the opposite: A God who comes down to us.
So, to return to our original thought, as we face the troubles and difficulties of the year ahead it is, of course, important to plan improvements in our lives. It is vital that we continue to strive to become increasingly Christlike. We, like Peter, must show by our actions and our decisions that we are on God's side. However, just like Peter, the chances are we will 'fall short of the Glory of God' more often than we attain it. The point of stories like this one is to remind us that however far we fall God, through Jesus, is willing to stoop and lift us back up again.
