Failure’s Faith
A Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Paul Debenport
April 18, 2010
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Hear the Word of God from today’s lectionary Gospel lesson in John 21: 1—18, 19b
After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were no able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off. When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many of them, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time, that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.
“When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?
He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?”
And he said to him, “Lord you know that I love you.”
Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep….”… “Follow me.”
The Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
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Poor Hank Baskett, our former UNM football player, who, no matter how great his pro career may be, will forever be remembered as the man who lost Super Bowl 44 for the Colts. One headline even screamed: “Super Bowl XLIV Will Forever Be Known as “The Onside Kick Game.” And poor Hank was the one who flubbed it. Which brings me to another piece of sports’ trivia that offers little comfort to Hank Baskett. This one is about poor Fred Snodgrass. Never heard of him? Well, if you had, probably the only thing you’d know was that he made one mistake and the world never let him forget it. He was playing center field for the New York Giants in the 1912 World Series against the Red Sox. The teams were tied in the tenth inning when a fly ball fell into Snodgrass’s mitt—and he dropped it! The Red Sox won the series, and the error stuck with Snodgrass the rest of his life. Sixty-two years later, his New York Times obituary read: “Fred Snodgrass, 86, Dead; Ball Player Muffed 1912 Fly.”[1] No matter how many good or even great things we do in this life, our failures seem to define us forever.
Or do they? For it could have been the same for Simon Peter. His obit could have read: “Simon Peter, Fisherman, Dead; Denied His Lord in 33 AD.” The early Christians never forgot that night Peter blew it—denying Jesus. Three times Peter dropped the faithfulness ball, lying “Not me; never heard of the guy!” Then Peter went out and wept over the biggest failure of his life. Which is where Peter’s life-story would have ended—if the risen Christ had not shown up. After Jesus’ execution—disappointed with himself, disappointed with God—Peter decided to go back to the life he’d lived before Jesus gave him a new calling. “I’m going fishing,” he declared, and the other disciples followed him.
It sounds like a failed business venture, like a lot of businesses these days and like a lot of people who have lost their jobs, with feelings of failure and hopelessness enveloping them like a dark cloud, defining themselves by their sense of failure, real and imagined. Here, Jesus’ start-up company was a flop, DOA, literally dead and buried, with the disciples, who had invested everything, not knowing what to do now. So they shut down the computers for the last time, turned off the lights, and mumbled to one another “It was great while it lasted. There’s nothing left to do but try to get our old jobs back.” But again Peter failed miserably, catching nothing. He was a double failure. He had blown it both as a disciple and as a fisherman.
Which was when that stranger appeared on the shore and directed them to fish on the other side of the boat where they hit a catch so big they couldn’t pull it all in. The stranger turned a night of failure, and lives of failure, into the dawn of a new calling. Jesus had been resurrected from the “dead and gone” and was alive again and again calling Peter—the one who had failed him the most. When Peter recognized the man on the shore as his Lord, he must have been mortified. The One he had failed so utterly, was back to confront him. So Simon Peter tried to cover himself up, just as Adam and Eve had tried to hide their nakedness from God after they failed God in the garden. But Jesus welcomed Peter beside a charcoal fire—the same kind of fire around which Peter had denied his Lord. Jesus broke bread, passed it around like a household servant, then looked Peter in the eye and asked, “Do you love me?” Mirroring the three times Peter had failed him—three times Jesus asked him—“Do you love me?” And three times Peter choked out his devotion, “Yes, Lord, you know I love you!”
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I hear a prolonged pause after each question, especially after the first time. I sense Peter holding his breath as if his whole life was being held in the balance. What would Jesus say or do now? Would he ridicule him? Judge him? Banish him? Even kill him? Would his whole life be defined by his very real failure? Would he be forever: “Simon Peter, fisherman; failed the Risen Christ and Paid the Price”? That would be justice.
But as always with Jesus, justice is trumped by mercy. Jesus smiled and said: “Then feed my sheep. Tend my lambs. Feed my sheep.” Jesus forgave Peter’s failure, restored his identity, and renewed his calling. It was the first day of the rest of Peter’s life!
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The early Christians couldn’t forget Peter’s story because they saw themselves in it. Especially in times of seeming absence, they, too, denied Christ. As do we—as individual disciples and as a church. We, too, have said, “It was great while it lasted, but I might as well go fishing.” But morning came, and comes, and comes again and the risen Christ shows up where and when we least expect, and again, we rediscover failure’s faith, that the love of God is deeper than our denial and the calling of God is stronger than our failure to live up to it.
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“All fail and fall short of the glory of God” declares an ancient, reformed creed. Surely I have as a pastor and as a person. Surely you have too. So the question is not “Do we fail?” The question is “What do we do and what does God do with our failures?” Do forever we define ourselves and others, forever brand ourselves and others as the world tends to do as “Failure!”? Or, do we in faith take our failures to Christ, and let Christ welcome us with the bread of new life and renewed calling? Do we let him love us, grace us, renew us, and lovingly call us again as he called his rock of a failed disciple Simon Peter? Do we hear the Risen Christ telling us: “Then feed my sheep; tend my lambs, feed my sheep.”
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
[1] For the Fred Snodgrass story and most of the ideas in this sermon I thank and credit The Rev. James Harnish, “Reflections on the lectionary,” Christian Century, April 6, 2010, p. 21.
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