Grace?

by Peggy Haymes, Pinnacle Associate

We were talking about grace.

In the fall I ask the 9-12 graders whom I lead in Sunday School for suggestions of topics they want to talk about in the spring, and from that I create a curriculum. One request was to talk about the foundations of our faith, and the core values of our church. Some years ago when our church identified our “spiritual DNA,” one of those was Grace Filled. So on this morning we talked about grace.

We remembered the story of the prodigal son hitting the clubs until he was flat busted, and the daddy who’d never stopped looking for him to come home.

Then we talked about Simon Peter loudly declaring his loyalty to Jesus and proving it by cutting off the ear of one of the entourage who came to capture him. We talked about him being scared and discombobulated in the courtyard, three times denying that he’d ever known the most important person in his life. We talked about him meeting the risen Lord on the beach. While on the journey together, Jesus had given him a new name. Simon became Peter, the rock.

But now on the beach he calls him Simon again.

I wonder if that stung. I wonder if Peter felt a wash of shame upon hearing the old name. I wonder if it broke his heart to feel his failure so keenly. Some rock he was.

Then came the questions.

Simon, son of John, do you love me? Lord, you know I do.

Simon, son of John, do you love me? Lord, you know I do.

Simon, son of John, do you love me?

The third time Jesus asked something broke in Simon Peter. Ironically, in doing the unthinkable of denying Jesus Simon Peter discovered how deeply he loved him. He couldn’t imagine taking a breath without loving him.

Jesus, you know everything. You’ve got to know this. You’ve got to know how much I love you. I was stupid and scared and alone and I wish I had a thousand ways to take it back but I can’t. But Jesus, you know everything. You’ve got to know how much I love you.

With each question came a command: Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep.

Finally came the two words, the words that started everything a lifetime ago. Once again, Jesus stood on the beach, looked at this fisherman and said, “Follow me.”

Did Simon Peter remember? Did those words from the risen Lord on the beach take him back to that day so many months and miles ago on a beach when the world spun in a crazy way and he walked away from his life to the life that was calling him?

Did a weight lift from his heart with this chance to renew his vows?

Follow me.

Yes, Lord. Oh yes.

I told the kids this story:

I treated someone badly. It was hurtful to them and had painful ripple effects. I still don’t know why. I call it my exquisite act of self sabotage, antithetical to everything I believe in and how I try to live my life.

I was devastated both that I’d hurt someone else and that I’d betrayed myself. I tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep and beating myself up. I’d hurt somebody. I felt awful sixteen kinds of ways. In the early hours of the morning as my big orange tabby curled himself into the comma of my body, I remembered grace.

I talk a lot about grace, especially with the students, I reminded myself. Perhaps this grace is true for me as well.

Of course it was.

Peggy, daughter of Joe and Gerry, do you love me?

Jesus, you know I do.

Pick yourself up and follow me.

He loved me. Jesus still loved me. I finally closed my eyes and slept.

Later that week I met with the people involved and did the hard work of confession and reconciliation. God’s grace didn’t mean that I had a get out of jail free card. I still had to have a very uncomfortable conversation. I still had to take responsibility. It was hard in a soul deep kind of way and tears came along with my halting words. But in the end, a kind of reconciliation happened.

We all mess up, I told the kids, even adults. Sometimes we’re the only ones who know. Sometimes the whole world knows.

Two things are true, I told them. We all mess up. And there will never be a time when Jesus stops loving you.

If they take nothing else from their time with me, I hope they take this.

And if you take nothing else into your week from these rambles, I hope you take this: There is never a time when Jesus stops loving you.

Never.

Whatever this week brings to you know that this tender, fierce love goes with you.