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Jesus always seems to meet us where we are, whether we realize it or not. It is a holy mystery that Jesus meets us at all. It’s hard to articulate. It’s a feeling, a sense, occasionally a woo-woo moment. This happens throughout our lifetimes, whether we are children, young adults, middle-aged, or extremely wise and advanced in years.
Have you ever spent time around a four-year-old child? For the year before going to seminary, I taught 4-year-olds and loved it. There is something about being four that compels a child to ask questions about God, whether they have been exposed to religion or not. Four is a magical age—when wonder, imagination, and big questions bloom. If you’ve spent time with a child this age, you’ve probably heard a cascade of “Why?” followed by “But why??” again and again.
At this stage, children’s minds and hearts are expanding. They’re starting to grasp abstract ideas and think beyond the visible world. Dinosaurs, space, God, the soul, heaven—the mysterious draws them in. Their imaginations are vivid, and spiritual stories speak to them much like fairy tales do. They’re not just curious about how things work—they want to know why things exist. They’re searching for meaning, connection, and purpose.
Preschoolers are tuned in to emotion and awe. They may be moved by beauty or kindness, even if they can’t explain it. And they often feel a deep pull toward the mystery of communion—longing to “eat the bread” like their parents. Being four might feel far away, but I hope this stirs a memory of your own early wondering about mystery. How did Jesus meet you then?
My strongest memory from this time in my life is attending church every Sunday with my family. My parents, my younger brother, and I always sat in the fifth pew back on the left-hand side, right in front of the pulpit. I don’t remember anything about the preaching or lessons from Scripture. But what I do remember is this…
I remember watching the priest stand behind the altar and preside over the Eucharist. It was my favorite time of the whole week. And I loved going forward to the rail, kneeling between my parents, and receiving communion. I don’t remember what I thought about this act. Did I have a theology of the Eucharist? Probably not. But I knew that I was participating in something larger than myself, something mysterious that connected me to Jesus, a manual act that enabled Jesus to meet me where I was as a small child.
In today’s gospel, Jesus meets the disciples where they are, by the Sea of Tiberias. Jesus’ death and resurrection happened recently and they are still reeling. This is the third time that the post-resurrection Jesus appears to them. The text says, “Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus.”
It makes you wonder what he looked like if they didn’t recognize him. Did he appear as a ghost?
In some appearances, like this one, Jesus is not recognizable. However, Jesus was recognized by his disciples in other instances, such as the chapter before in John 20 when he shows them his hands and his side. He clearly had a body that was transformed in some way. These accounts indicate that while Jesus’ resurrected body was physical and could be touched, it also had a glorified aspect that transcended normal physical limitations, as he could appear and disappear at will.
The post-resurrection Jesus embodied both continuity with his earthly life and a transformed, glorified existence, demonstrating the power of the resurrection. The resurrected Jesus meets the disciples where they are, both physically and spiritually. He helps them process their grief and continues to work miracles. Jesus helps their unbelief when he causes them to haul in more fish than they had ever seen before. He shares a meal with them on the beach, eating fish cooked over a charcoal fire.
There is only one other place in all of Scripture in which a charcoal fire appears, and that is just a few chapters earlier in John’s gospel. Peter was warming himself beside that fire too, but the situation was entirely different.
The first charcoal fire took place outside Caiaphas’ house after Jesus had been arrested. Caiaphas was interrogating Jesus while Peter waited outside the gate along with a guard and the police. The woman guarding the gate asks Peter if he is a disciple of Jesus, and he denies it three times. It is fascinating that the next time a charcoal fire appears, Jesus has died and has risen. Jesus is standing before Peter, and they are having breakfast together.
Jesus teaches us about love in the interaction he has with Peter on the banks of the Galilean Sea. Jesus meets Peter where he is.
The love between Jesus and Peter is a love that seeks to reconcile a broken relationship. They are reuniting after that fateful moment when they last saw one another outside of Caiaphas’ house, when Peter denied Jesus.
We hear Jesus ask Peter, “Son of John, do you love me?” To which Peter answers, “Yes Lord, you know I love you.” Jesus says, “Tend my sheep.” Then a second time Jesus turns to Peter and asks, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter responds, “Yes Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus says, “Tend my sheep.” A third time Jesus turns to Peter and asks, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter’s hurt. He says, “Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you.” Jesus responds, “Feed my sheep.”
If we pull apart this conversation, we see that Jesus and Peter are talking past one another. It is a really confusing conversation, but a little less confusing in the original Greek.
The word “love” appears seven times in this text. But in the Greek, there are two different words being used here. Agape love is what Jesus is asking Peter about, the pure divine, unconditional love. And Peter keeps responding with phileo love, the love between brothers or friends.
Jesus asks Peter “Do you love me?” expressing agape love—the kind of love that is the closest thing to the love of God we can imagine. Peter responds, “Yes, I love you,” using phileo, the love of brothers/friends. Again, Jesus asks with agape. Again, Peter responds with phileo. Finally, Jesus asks a third time, this time asking if Peter loves him as a brother, phileo, to which Peter says “Yes, I do.”
It’s a strange conversation in either language. Why does Jesus ask Peter the same question two different ways? Why does Peter reply in the affirmative with a completely different kind of love? Where is Peter in this story? Is he feeling guilty about denying Jesus? Is he feeling shame or embarrassment? Is this his way of reconciling with Jesus in a self-deprecating way? Peter is unsure and settles into a place of mystery.
I have so many questions about this exchange. During this conversation, is the resurrected Jesus smiling and emanating compassion or is he stern and chastising of Peter?
However it transpired, Jesus meets Peter where he is just as God meets us where we are. That is one of the paradoxes of love and it is a holy mystery. The love that transcends all of these loves is agape, and, as represented by Jesus, that is the love that always comes from God, adjusting when necessary to meet us where we are.
Jesus meets you where you are too, just as he met Peter by the Sea of Tiberias. Whether we are full of questions like a four-year-old, seeking understanding and connection, or carrying the weight of past denials and seeking reconciliation, Jesus is present with us. His love, expressed in both agape and phileo, transcends our human limitations and meets us in our particular circumstances.
Jesus meets us with unconditional love—always. This love is not dependent on our understanding or worthiness; it is a gift freely given, inviting us into a deeper relationship with God. As we leave today, let us carry with us the assurance that Jesus meets us in our joys, in our doubts, and in our failures, always ready to guide us toward love and reconciliation. May we be open to recognizing these moments of divine encounter in our own lives, trusting that Jesus is ever present, meeting us exactly where we are.