Each miracle—opening the eyes of the blind, making a paralyzed man walk, feeding thousands of people by multiplying a few loaves of bread—were glimpses of the kind of kingdom Jesus would establish for his followers. A kingdom of wholeness, abundance, and holiness. And that was exactly the kind of kingdom Peter wanted to live in! 

Based on the way Jesus kept choosing Peter, James, and John to be up close and included in private meetings, it probably seemed to Peter that he was well on his way to playing an important role in Jesus’s earthly ministry and kingdom.

So, when Jesus began to reveal that he came to save them by dying for them, Peter got offended because he didn’t understand.

Followers Fail, Doubt, and Misunderstand

In the final moments of following Jesus on earth, Peter found himself at odds with Jesus, whom he’d been so determined to follow.

At the last supper, Jesus told his followers, “You will all fall away.” But Peter declared, “Even if all fall away, I will not” (Mark 14:27–29).

Jesus said, “This very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” But Peter said, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you” (Matthew 26:34–35).

In the space of a few hours, Peter would be standing by a fire, and his declarations of loyalty would melt into three panicked denials. 

From sword-swinging valor to cursing and terrified disowning of his king and friend, Peter, a true follower of Jesus, proved unable to keep his promises of loyalty when it mattered most. So “He went out and wept bitterly.” (Luke 22:62)

As you’ve followed Jesus throughout your life, have you been there? Devastatingly ashamed?

Have you asked yourself, “How could I have done that? How could I have done that again? Am I even a Christian?”

I have been there, and my tendency is the same as Peter’s. I want to flee! I want to get as far away from the evidence of my failure as I can.

I have often wept bitterly. I’ve cried in embarrassment because I ought to know better. I’ve buried my head in shame because shouldn’t I have this sin whipped by now? And I’ve bawled my eyes out in despair because I wonder if this time, I’ve finally ruined God’s plan for my loved ones or me.

One of those times was in the spring of 2012. At the time, our boys were 8, 7, and 5, and we had two little foster girls, ages 3 and 2. 

As I looked around my life, I was failing at all the things that were most important to God and to me. Marriage, parenting, foster-parenting, and even my walk with Jesus—everything seemed to be crumbling.

Kurt and I were merely existing in the same house. When I took time to read my Bible and pray, I spent more time crying than reading or praying. I was struggling with sins of bitterness, distrusting God, and being harsh and impatient with my family.

I was parenting like I was a machine, and our kids were five little widgets I had to service. Wake, feed, transport, bathe. It was like our home had become an institutional parenting operation with gaping holes where loving discipline and nurture should have been.

I’d begun to wonder, “Am I even a Christian? Shouldn’t this all be easier because I’m following Jesus?”

I had been begging God for months to either change my heart or my circumstances.

One particular night I prayed: God, why am I still struggling with these things?! Don’t you see how badly this is going? Do you know how wrung out I am? Do you care that these kids are dying for individual attention? I can’t do it because I have a logistics problem…a 1 to 5 ratio! The only mother-child activity I could possibly manage is to have them “help” while I cook. But I don’t have the patience for it, and the boys are interested in fishing, not cooking! 

There was no answer, and I went to bed in tears. Why couldn’t I get this figured out?! 

The next day was more of the same, robotic parenting and unloving responses. The gaping holes of individual attention were still begging to be filled.

No voice from heaven.

No overwhelming sense of peace. 

No change in circumstances.

No change of heart.

Jesus Points Out Our Need

I wonder if that’s how Peter felt when we find him in John 21. After Jesus had died and risen, he instructed his disciples to meet him in Galilee, and then he disappeared.

If I had to retell the story of John 21:1-9, I’d tell it like this:

Peter flung his net over the lake and heard it hiss as it sank. He and John drug it back in without speaking. Fishing came back to him as naturally as breathing.

Three years ago, he’d left this boat in a pile of fish and walked away to follow Jesus. And every unpredictable moment of the past three years had culminated in the strangest, most horrible, and fascinating week of his life.

He shook his head remembering. Loyal to the end was his plan. In his fast-talking, fast-acting efforts to be the rock Jesus had called him, he’d vowed to die with Jesus. Instead, he had denied and deserted Him, and Jesus alone had died.

Then, incredibly, He came back to life.

Peter looked around the boat draping the empty net over his arm. James and Andrew worked in rhythm. Thomas and Nathaniel were at the oars, and the others dozed in the bow.

The last orange glow of the evening diminished into darkness, and Peter cast out his net again.

He hoped fishing would ease his mind, and he hadn’t even had to convince the others to come along. They were just waiting, after all. Waiting for Jesus to meet them in Galilee, as he said he would. But when? And where was he now? What was taking so long?

It was a dreary but familiar rhythm. The sinkers slapped the water, and the hissing net sunk. Ropes scraped over the sides of the boat, and Peter and John pulled up the net tangled with weeds, dripping with mud, empty of fish. He shoved down his frustration. Waiting. Wondering. Working.

Hour after hour. All night long.

The sun fanned out pink on the horizon and gave just enough light to see the outline of a man on the shore. The smoke from his fire wafted onto the lake and reminded Peter of his hunger. Salt in the wound of a night with no fish.

They were tired, sore, and hungry, and they decided to call it a night. When they were still 100 yards out, the man on shore called out to them.

“Friends, don’t you have any fish?”

A night of work with nothing to show, and now they were forced to admit it.

No fish.

No breakfast. 

No income.

No idea where Jesus was. 

They called back to the man on the shore, “No.” 

I find it instructive that throughout the gospels, and in my own life, when Jesus wants to reveal himself and show his power to his followers, he often points out their need. And it sometimes sounds harsh.

For example, when 5,000 people on a remote hillside needed food, Jesus said to the disciples, “You give them something to eat.” Incredulous, the disciples replied, “We have only five loaves and two fish” (see Luke 9:13). 

To the crippled man who’d lain by the temple pool for 38 years, Jesus said, “Do you want to get well?” and the man essentially answered, “I can’t! I have no one to put me into the healing waters” (see John 5:7).

And to his followers who’d been fishing while waiting for him, Jesus asked, “Friends, don’t you have any fish?”

In my own life, Jesus often makes me acutely aware of my own desperate need so that when he goes to work in my regular surroundings, I’ll know it was him.

Jesus Fills our Gaping Holes

The evening after my desperate complaining prayer for help with my parenting, I put three of my five kids in bed. I was ready to clock out when my eight-year-old brought me a magazine with 65 full-color pages of perfectly decorated treats and said, “Mom, can we make something out of here?”

I was tired, and I had no desire or patience to start an activity. Plus, it was a Christmas magazine, and I knew every recipe in there called for peppermint oil or crushed candy canes, and in April, I had none of that on hand.

So I said, “I don’t have the right ingredients for any of those recipes.”

But he didn’t give up. “Can you just check?”

I flipped through the pages and noticed a recipe with only four ingredients. I had all of them on hand—including a half-bag of pastel mini marshmallows left over from a craft. And, it was a no-bake recipe.

I figured it wouldn’t take too long, so we went to the kitchen and had a rare and uninterrupted 20 minutes of Christmas “baking” in April.

We mixed melted chocolate chips and butter with the pastel marshmallows, rolled it into a log, and refrigerated it. When we sliced them the next morning, each cookie looked like a multicolored mosaic pane, held together by chocolate. 

I served him one of our little treats for breakfast, and since I’d never seen them before, I dug up the magazine and pressed it open to find out what they were called.

They were called Cathedral Windows.

Through a four-ingredient, no-bake recipe, Jesus had filled that gaping hole of need with a cathedral window.

Not only had he answered my prayer for one-on-one time with my needy son, but he had also done it according to the schedule he knew I had to keep. He acknowledged my veiled complaint about cooking with a no-bake recipe. More shocking, he answered my questions:

“Yes. I see. I hear. I know, and I care.”

In a way, it was like a recurring refrain of Jesus saying, “Even now, I will do for you what you cannot do for yourself.”

When we are desperate, God stands ready to strengthen his followers with his presence, his loving attention, and a revelation of himself that proves he is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine.

He fills gaping holes with cathedral windows and empty nets with fish.

Jesus’ Generous Gift to His Followers

The man on the shore called out again, and Peter asked, “What did he say?” 

John answered, “He said to cast on the right side to find some fish.”

The rest of the disciples stopped fiddling with nets and oars, ropes and sails. John and Peter eased themselves and the net to the other side. The boat shifted, dipping low with their weight. 

In one orchestrated motion, they flung the net. Once again, it hit the water like a smattering of rain, then went silent.

In unison, they pulled on the ropes.

The net seemed stuck.

Peter held the rope too loosely, and two feet of it scraped through his hands, leaving a bloody burn before he got a grip. He and John braced themselves against the weight of the net and looked at each other. Andrew and James and the others dropped their gear and scrambled over benches and oars to help.

The seven of them pulled, and the boat lurched to that side. The water’s surface shattered with the splashing of silver tails and fins.

John and Peter held the ropes and looked at the shore. Then John said, “It is the Lord!”

Peter thrust the ropes at James, grabbed his cloak from the mast, wriggled it over his head, and dove in.

Peter had been here before. Straining at the ropes of a catch he couldn’t bring in. It was a visual demonstration of God’s grace that bookended his life of following Jesus: a net so full of what he had been working for that he could not contain it.

It had taken years of failure and misunderstanding for Peter to get it, but Jesus’s message had always been the same: I will generously give you what you cannot earn or deserve. I will do for you what you cannot do for yourself. I will declare you holy.

Peter needed what only Jesus could give. And so do you and I.

Even if you’ve been following Jesus for years, you still don’t have to earn his forgiveness and grace. We must simply receive what he lavishes on us by whatever means he chooses.

In the setting that was most familiar to Peter, Jesus pointed out his need. Then Jesus filled the empty nets with fish…again…so that Peter and the other disciples would know—without a doubt—Jesus would continue to do for them what they could not do for themselves.

In your most desperate and discouraging circumstances, he is present and attentive, even if you don’t recognize him at first. He will provide, but he often does it in surprising ways so that you’ll know it was him.

The post What Does Jesus Do for Disappointed Followers? appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

As part of our fall Bible study, I’d been reading about the Temptation of Christ in the desert. I had that ho-hum feeling I sometimes get that makes me say, “Oh, yeah. I know this one. Three temptations, three scriptural refutations. Check!”

You can roll your eyes at me if you want. I’m rolling my eyes at myself.

Thankfully, my study questions slowed me down, and as I was reading, the scene started to take shape in my mind.

Jesus had just been baptized.

“And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased,” (Matthew 3:17).

It seems like there should have been a reception with cake and a certificate of baptism, but instead of cake, the Spirit led Jesus to a fast:

“Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry” (Matthew 4:1).

Jesus was starving to death in the desert, and the devil invited him to do some crazy cliff jumping with no harness to see if God would really do what he promised. Would God “command his angels concerning [Jesus]” so that he wouldn’t suffer harm.

It occurred to me that Jesus was already suffering harm. He was hungry, lonely, and tired, and the devil was taking jabs, “Didn’t your Father say he’d command his angels….” And quite frankly, that’s exactly what God had said:

He will command his angels concerning you,

    and they will lift you up in their hands,

    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

Psalm 91:11-12

But for 40 days, God hadn’t command his angels to prevent harm, and his Son, with whom he was well pleased, languished in the desert.

I started to wonder what kind of pleading was going on in the throne room of God.

Were angels begging for permission to rescue their King?
Were they waiting for a command?
Was God pained to watch this torture unfold on earth?
Did God have to command his angels to stay put?
What kind of divine restraint was required to allow this to continue?

Our Bible study group discussed the story. We noticed how brazenly the devil taunted Jesus in his vulnerable state. We saw how Jesus used God’s word to talk back to the devil and maintained his authority to command the devil to leave him alone. Then we came to the last verse:

“Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him” (Matthew 4:11).

God did what he’d promised. He commanded his angels to attend to Jesus at just the right time.

One woman in our group said, “I wonder what that was like.” I’d been wondering too, so I wrote the scene as I imagined it might have happened.

I hope you enjoy it, but more than that, I hope you’ll notice that suffering isn’t always a result of personal sin, and that God will do what he’s promised at just the right time.

Gabriel stood with his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. He stared through a nearly imperceptible veil separating the throne room of God from the Judean wilderness. From Gabriel’s side, the veil was as transparent as crystal. Nothing obstructed his view.

Gabriel’s Creator, the King he had served from the moment he’d been formed, lay curled at the bottom of a desert ravine, near death. His eyes were sunken and closed, and Gabriel thought he could have passed for a dead man. Gabriel knew better. The time had not yet come.

He turned to Almighty and asked, “Now?”

A voice like rushing waters came from the throne, “Not quite yet.”

They both stared through the thin veil, separating heaven from earth. The King’s lips were cracked and quivering, but Gabriel knew those faint movements weren’t the twitches of a starving man. They were the silent prayers of a Son to his Father. Even as the King prayed, droplets of blood appeared in the cracks of his lips.

Gabriel picked up a jar made of such pure gold that its body was translucent. He dipped it in the River of Life and let it fill.

Michael approached Gabriel at the veil. Together they watched as a dark figure bent over their crumpled King. The King’s eyes flickered open. The dark figure stumbled backward, tripping on a stone. He kicked the stone, and it rolled to a stop near the King’s head. He laughed and taunted.

Gabriel and Michael drew their swords and glanced back at the Almighty, watching for a nod or the lifting of a divine finger.

The weakened King spoke from the earth, but his words echoed in the throne room, “Man does not live by bread alone, but on every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.”

Gabriel and Michael listened for that word of command to proceed, but none came.

Instead, the throne room began to rumble, and thumping wings stirred the air as angels fell into line behind Michael and Gabriel. Leaves on the Tree of Life rustled, but none fell. Fragrance from its fruit and blossoms floated on the breeze and overpowered the lingering stench of deception wafting in from the desert.

The King had pushed himself up to a sitting position, and the hosts of heaven sighed relief to know he was still alive. The dark figure flew to the top of a mountain, and Gabriel heard him shout, “Throw yourself down! Didn’t your Father say he would command his angels concerning you? You won’t even strike your foot against a stone if your Father tells the truth!”

Michael and Gabriel lunged toward the thin veil at the mention of their angelic order, thinking it was time. Wings thrummed behind them, ready to attend to the King. The veil ruffled in the breeze like a curtain in the wind. Just a breath from the Father and the veil would part.

Gabriel watched the Father, his face creased with focused attention toward his Son. The throne nearly vibrated with power demanding to be released, but the Father restrained his mighty hand for the moment.

The dark figure thrust his own hands under the King’s arms and forced him to stand. The King was dizzy and stumbled to one side as though he may fall, Gabriel reached toward the veil that he might catch him, but a voice like rushing waters restrained him, “Just a moment, Gabriel.”

Gabriel drew back his hand. The veil was hot.

Just as the King had steadied himself, the dark figure whispered, “Bow and worship me.”

Heaven erupted with a rhythmic fervor, and the winged army behind Gabriel chanted, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, the whole Earth is full of his glory!”

The wind of their wings was fierce, whipping Gabriel’s tunic around his feet. The Tree of Life neither bent nor swayed, but the wing-whipped gusts lifted its branches higher, exposing its beautiful fruit. Gabriel longed to pluck a basketful for the King, but for now, the King’s “food” was to do the will of God and endure this test. The time for feasting would come later.

The King stood, staggered, then as though drawing strength from the other side of the invisible veil, he raised his hoarse voice and commanded, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve him only!'”

Then, like thunder rumbling from the throne came the command, “Go!”

The veil parted just as the King began to fall, and Gabriel and Michael flew to steady him. They each caught an arm so he wouldn’t strike his head or foot against the desert stones.

Throngs of angels rushed through the parted veil, winged attendants finally uncaged. They encircled the King, surrounding him with a protective perimeter, seven angels deep. Gabriel and Michael helped him sit, and the King leaned back against a large rock that seemed fitted to his back. Gabriel offered the golden jar, and the King drank. A few swallows, and he began to choke and cough. Gabriel lowered the jar. The King wiped his mouth with his sleeve and whispered, “A little more.” Gabriel lifted the jar again.

From within the wall of angels came the attendants. One unfurled a linen sheet over the desert floor and invited Jesus to lay or sit upon it, whichever was most comfortable for him. Another brought a basket of bread and a jar of olive oil. One took out a loaf, tore off the end, and dipped it in the oil. She reached into the basket again and drew out a pinch of salt, which she sprinkled on the oil-soaked bread.

She knelt, bowed her head, and held it out to her King.

Gabriel and Michael stood beside the seated King as the angels attended him, meeting his needs. There was a cloth and basin to wash his face and tattered robe and wine and oil to salve wounds the desert had inflicted.

Gabriel marveled as color and strength returned to the King. The angels had walked him back from the precipice overlooking the valley of death. It wouldn’t be the last time the King would have to peer into that dark chasm. Next time, Gabriel knew, they would not be summoned to break the fall.

Get your free mini-devotional before Advent.

The post What happens in Heaven when God restrains angels? appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Maybe you don’t remember, but a record album (pronounced reh-kerd al-buh-m) was in popular use shortly after the invention of the wheel and hieroglyphics–or so it seems.

In the late 70s my parents bought an advanced piece of music technology. A stereo. This miracle of musical machinery was ensconced behind glass doors to reiterate the fact that all the blinking knobs and dancing decibel lights were off limits to three wide-eyed children.

Half the fun of the stereo was the delicate show on the turn table. The shiny vinyl balanced on the spindle, spun, wobbled, and finally dropped onto the record player. But perhaps the most impressive feature was the set of speakers. They were protected by a distinctively smelling squishy foam, and at four feet high they were taller than me.

My sister and I would lay on the floor in front of those gigantic speakers with one ear pressed into the foam and wait for our favorite Easter song on our favorite record album. As the needle crackled, we prepared to be transported by the voice of Don Francisco to a first century scene. And there, in our mind’s eye, we saw the grieving apostle Peter.

Perhaps that sounds a bit strange. Your favorite song was about the grieving apostle? Well, not exactly. It’s just that we knew the story didn’t end there. The crescendo of the finale was coming, but it always started with a sorrowful Peter.

After contributing to the horrors of the crucifixion, Peter was terrified of arrest and crippled with shame. Don Fransisco sings Peter’s story:

The gates and doors were barred and all the windows fastened down,
I spent the night in sleeplessness and rose at every sound,
Half in hopeless sorrow half in fear the day,
Would find the soldiers crashing through to drag us all away.
Then just before the sunrise I heard something at the wall,
The gate began to rattle and a voice began to call,
I hurried to the window and looked down to the street,
Expecting swords and torches and the sound of soldiers feet,

He’s Alive by Don Fransisco

(Lyrics are here if you’d like to read instead.)

The song ends with the Peter’s encounter with the resurrected Christ. All year long, Don Francisco, my sister, and I would belt it out together: “He’s Alive!!! He’s alive, and I’m forgiven!”

Interestingly, this song was the longest-running chart single in the history of Christian radio.

What makes it so good?

Why was it our favorite?

Why do I always cry?

I think the answer lies, at least in part, in the lyric, “Everything I’d promised Him just added to my shame.”

What had Peter promised? When Jesus warned His twelve friends that they would all bail on Him, they each, including Peter, said, “Surely you don’t mean me?” Then, as if to shore up his devotion, Peter pumped his fist into the air declaring, “Lord, even if all fall away on account of you, I will not! Even if I have to die with you I will never disown you!”

I’m sure Peter meant it. He wasn’t lying to Jesus. Amidst the solemnity of the Passover meal he was earnest. He was ready for heroics! But he wasn’t ready for the humiliation of grace. He was not yet willing to let Jesus die for him.

I think this is why I love the story of Peter and perhaps why so many have loved Don Francisco’s ballad. It is a portrait of God’s grace given even to those who’ve tried to “do it right” and heroically.

I have promised Jesus big and small acts of faith in earnest: Lenten sacrifice, Christmas generosity, and everyday devotion. But everything I’ve promised points to the fact that I can’t even keep my own promises. I fudge on the sacrifice. I’m cautious in generosity. I fall short of commitments I was certain I could accomplish. How much more have I fallen short of a Christ-like generosity and sacrifice?

When we recognize our ineptitude to perfectly carry out our tiny acts of goodness,  we are finally able to receive what Christ offers: His death instead of yours. His perfect life credited to you. In the words of Martin Luther, “The Great Exchange” where Jesus is the hero.

To “celebrate” Christ’s death on Good Friday may seem cryptic or harsh.  But we know what Peter didn’t. Saturday is the grand crescendo and Sunday morning is the celebratory finale.

Happy Easter, Friends.

He’s still alive, and we can be forgiven.

Remembering Holy Week: Five Remarkable Stories of Unremarkable People
is my 5-day e-devotional. It is available for one more day. Click here to find our more, and sign up to receive your FREE copy via email.

The post An Easter Ballad for the Day In Between appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

It was just a few moments before the hull of the boat sliced into the shore.

“Bring some of the fish you just caught,” Jesus hollered.

Peter swallowed the bread, jogged to the boat and climbed on board to help drag the bulging net out of the water.

The seven of them heaved fish, nets, ropes, and baskets up the shore to begin untangling fins and sorting by kind and size.

Peter draped the net bow to stern to mark the repairs. From end to end he found no rips. No overstrained knots. No place for fish to escape. Jesus had done his work for him again.

“153 keepers!” Andrew shouted. Peter looked up to see him drop the last basket on the beach.

They all looked at Jesus. He smiled. “Come and have breakfast.”

Finally together again, they were careful with words. Between bites of bread and fish, they cautiously maneuvered around an unforgettable event, about which many questions remained.

But none of them dared ask Him, “Who are you?”  They finally knew.

*****************************

Many months ago, on this same sea, these same men endured a terrifying storm. At that time they weren’t even aware of who they were carting around in their boat. After Jesus spoke to calm the wind and waves, they asked one another, “Who is this? Even the winds and waves obey him?”

It was a question they would continue to ask either silently or out loud. A question they would even try to answer for him, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

But on this day–after they had seen Jesus alive and after he had filled their nets with fish–no one dared to ask Him who He was.

There was no need. Without words, they would each concur with Peter’s first confession: this is the Christ, the Son of the Living God.

Jesus came to show us who He is in order to erase our question, “Who are you?” And because He did, we can know that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.

He always will be.

The post No One Dared Ask Him appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Water rushed into his ears, and muted the night sounds. The quiet underwater allowed the screaming questions and the agonizing apology to echo. When Peter broke the surface, he saw Jesus bending over the fire.

He swam until he could stand and thrashed through the water to the shore.

The unmistakable scar on the hand that stirred the coals and turned the roasting fish confirmed it. It is the Lord.

And yet, Peter couldn’t find words. The apology burned inside him, like the fish sizzling in its skin. His cloak dripped on the shore tapping out the moments of delay.

He turned around to see the boat towing the bulging net. He had only a few minutes, and no suitable words.

Turning back to Jesus, Peter opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came to him.

Then, in response to his awkward fidgeting, Jesus stood up from the fire and handed him a warm piece of bread.

*****************************

Peter had always been a man to act before working out the details. He wanted to be near Jesus, even if only for a few moments. So he’d jumped.

Such holy impulsivity surely spurred a few words between them, but none are recorded for us.  Just an awkward silence except for the lakeside sounds.

Even without words, who can deny the demonstration of repentance when a broken deserter, rushes unashamed toward the one he denied?

The fire, the fish, the bread, and the catch still being towed in speak of how Jesus had been working while Peter has been waiting and wondering.

Jesus silently waits for Peter. And when he arrives, Jesus meets him not with a blast of condemnation, but with a breakfast of fish and bread.

Sometimes we don’t know what to say to God in prayer. “Sorry” doesn’t seem to cut it. “Help” doesn’t seem specific enough. “Why” seems forceful. “Thanks” seems inadequate. Simply coming to Jesus, sorry and silent with a desire to be with Him, is as clear to Him as any words we might try.

Though we have failed Him, disappointed ourselves and others, He invites us to hurry back to Him, and rest in His overwhelming presence.

Even if there is an awkward silence, He welcomes you. Not with a fist, but with forgiveness.

The post Welcomed With Forgiveness appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Peter coiled the ropes into a sloppy pile on the deck.

The man on the shore called to them again, but Peter couldn’t hear over the lapping water and sliding ropes

“What did he say?” Peter asked.

John answered, “He said, cast on the right side to find some fish.”

The rest of them stopped fiddling with nets and oars, ropes and sails. They looked from one to another, too tired to think and too cautious to hope.

Without words, John and Peter eased themselves and the net to the other side. The boat dipped low with all their weight on one side.

In one orchestrated motion they flung the net. Once again it hit the water like a smattering of rain, then went silent. They waited.

Then in unison, they pulled.

It was stuck. But moving. Suddenly two feet of rope scraped through Peter’s hands, leaving a bloody burn before he got a grip. He and John braced themselves against the drag of the net. Andrew and James dropped their gear and they all ran to help.

All seven of them maneuvered all angles of the ropes and brought it close. The boat lurched to that side, and the dark surface shattered by the splashing of tails and fins.

Then John spoke what Peter hoped, “It is the Lord!”

Peter thrust his rope toward James, grabbed his cloak from the mast, wriggled it over his head, and dove in.

*************************

Peter had been here before. Straining at the ropes of a catch he couldn’t bring in. It was the message that book-ended his ministry with Jesus. A net so full of what he had been working for, that he could not contain it.

Though it had taken years of failure and misunderstanding for Peter to finally get it, Jesus’s message had always been the same: I will generously give you what you cannot earn and do not deserve: Salvation by grace through faith.

The first time Peter saw the message illustrated, he was frightened by Jesus’s power.  “Go away from me! I am a sinful man,” he said. But three years of walking with Jesus changed his response. Instead of begging Jesus to leave, Peter’s only thought was to rush to Him. Even if it meant a morning swim.

Peter needed what only Jesus could give. And so do you and I.

We can’t earn forgiveness. We’ve undeniably done Him wrong. We can’t “make it up to him.”

We must receive what he offers in abundance: uncontainable grace.

The post Daybreak Surprise appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

It was a dreary but familiar rhythm.

Peter cast out his net and heard it slap the surface and then hiss as it sunk. Hand over hand, Peter and John drew it back in scraping ropes over the hull.

Slap. Hiss. Scrape. Nothing.

Hour after hour. All night long.

The motions had come back as naturally as breathing, but tonight he was waking muscles that had been sleeping for years. And they were angry.

Three years ago he had left this boat in a pile of fish and walked away to follow Jesus.

He cast out the net again and shook his head remembering. Loyal to the end was his plan. In his fast talking efforts to be “the rock” Jesus had called him, he had vowed to die with Jesus. Instead he had denied and deserted Him. Jesus alone had died.

Then, incredibly, He came back to life.

Peter draped the empty net over his arm again and sorted out the shadows in the boat. James and Andrew were silhouetted against the moonlight sea, working their net. He saw the dark figures of Thomas and Nathaniel slumping at the oars, and heard snoring in the bow.

He had hoped fishing would ease his mind. The others needed little convincing. They were just waiting after all. Waiting for Jesus to meet them in Galilee, as he said he would. But when? And where was He now? What was taking so long?

He shoved down his growing frustration and helped John pull up the net again. A tangle of seaweed slopped on his foot. He kicked it off.

The working, waiting and wondering. He couldn’t get his mind around it. He’d seen Jesus twice now. Alive. Each time a painful apology burned inside him. But even genuine tears seemed trite considering what he’d done. Or hadn’t done.

The sun fanned out pink on the horizon and gave enough light to see the outline of a man on the shore and the flicker of his fire on the beach. The smoke wafted onto the lake reminding Peter of his hunger. Salt in the wound of a night with no fish.

They were tired, sore, and hungry, and decide to call it a night.

When they were a short distance from shore, the man on the beach called out to them.

“Friends, don’t you have any fish?”

A night of work with nothing to show, and now they were forced to admit it.

No fish.

No breakfast.

No income.

No idea where Jesus was.

No end to the wondering.

“No,” they called back.

***************************

Peter was a broken man trying to piece it back together by doing the next thing. He’d been unable to do even the simple work of a disciple: Stay awake. He had slept. Put your sword away, after he had drawn it. Follow me. He had fled.

So he returned to his boat. But it probably did little to relieve his guilt. Only Jesus could do that. Peter would simply have to wait for Him while doing his ordinary thing.

Sometimes when you and I are waiting for God to move, act or answer, the only thing we know to do is the next thing in front of us. Make the meal, wipe the counter, water the lawn, walk the dog. Dress for work. Go fishing.

We don’t have to know exactly what God is up to. But we can know He is always up to something.

Even when we are waiting, He is working.

Even when we’re not sure what to do next, He knows His plan.

And though we may have lost sight of Him, He has never lost sight of us.

The post Frustrated Waiting appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

{See also, Part 1, Part 2 Part 3}

Andrew peeled his fingers off the oar, and examined his pruned and blistered hands.

Why were we so afraid? He had no answer for Jesus.

Water lapping against to boat shut him up. There was no danger now.

The silvery moon relit the boat as the clouds dissipated.

Peter untangled himself from the sail and dropped the soggy mass of fabric.

They looked at one another in the moonlight with silent questions.

Then they looked at Jesus. He’d wrung out his cloak into the water sloshing at their feet and draped it over himself again.

Andrew and the rest stared at Him.

One by one they moved about the boat to survey the damage. “Two of six oars left.” Peter said. It was merely distraction.

“Who is this?” Andrew whispered to Peter as he watched Jesus stretch out on the leather bench again.

Phillip rolled a stray piece of the shredded sail and whispered from behind, “What kind of man is this?”

Andrew, didn’t know what to answer, but he said what he knew for certain.

“Even the wind and the waves obey him.”

Andrew shuddered.

Who is this?

They clearly had no idea.

**********************

Just when the disciples think they have Jesus and his kingdom mostly figured out, just when they think they understand what it’s going to be like, Jesus moves on to the next lesson.

Strong faith in their own understanding, their ability to sail, their willingness to “help him out” is a pitiful life preserver when death is near.

To be witness to Christ’s power is to rightly question who we actually believe Him to be. And to be certain, He’s not merely a weak God along for the ride, in need of our help.

He is strong, wild, and merciful to fearful disciples with shaky faith.

He is the untamable God who leads us into storms, rides them out with us, and delivers from the destructive waves of unbelief.

The post A Fresh Look at the Familiar: Saved appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Mark 4:35-41, Matthew 8:23-27, and Luke 8:22-25}

{Part 1, Part 2}

Andrew couldn’t hear a thing over the howling wind and crashing waves. But he did see Jesus roll off the bench after Phillip shook him.

Rain pounded the deck inside and collided with the waves outside. Andrew’s hands were  cramping from his failed attempts to steady the thrashing boat without breaking the oar Peter had abandoned to unrig the sail.

As the boat rose on the next crest of a surging wave, Jesus gripped the ledge that had been his small shelter and called into the raging wind, “Quiet!”

The sky sucked in its angry breath.

“Be still!” He said.

The swell diminished and set the boat down to bob on the rollers, which turned into ripples, which flattened into calm.

And for the first time since that first gust had whipped, they saw the outlines of the other boat, sails down, mast snapped, bobbing on the silver surface of Galilee.

The remains of broken waves rolled off the boat in streams. Chaos draining down every incline. The boat was heavy and the lake’s surface just a hand’s depth below the edge of the boat.

Jesus turned away from the dim moon peeking through the thinning clouds and looked at his soaked and terrified friends. Each of them drenched in rain and fright, still clinging to sails, ropes, and splintered oars.

“Where is your faith?” He raked hair out of his eyes. “Why are you so afraid?”

But no one had an answer.

“Do you still have no faith?”

They were silent.

Jesus settled back onto the bench where he had slept and rang out his cloak.

**********************

Perhaps they were all panting and out of breath from fear and exertion, and so they didn’t answer.

Perhaps they thought it was a rhetorical question. After all, wasn’t it clear why they were afraid?

In a rare moment for Peter, he had no immediate response. He didn’t ask to jump in, didn’t draw his sword, and didn’t proclaim loyalty. He kept silent.

We often accuse God of indifference and then gasp when He demonstrates His care. Perhaps embarrassment over our own audacity keeps us mercifully silent. And while we’re quiet our accusations and astonishment have the chance to untangle.

When God reveals his power and his care, our stunned silence is an appropriate response.

The post A Fresh Look at the Familiar: Silence appeared first on Shauna Letellier.

Mark 4:35-41, Matthew 8:23-27, and Luke 8:22-25}

The wind ruffled the water and the sails began to flutter. Andrew, weary at the oars, cracked open one eye, and closed it again. There was little to see in the dark, but the moon lit up the little white crests starting to billow across the lake.

When a gust of wind lashed him with the tail of a loose rope he snapped awake.

“Peter?” he called to his brother, half in warning, half in question. The only answer was in the crack of the sail stretched to its limit by a blast of wind. Peter clamored over his bench toward the mast to loosen the sail. “It’s gonna be a squall” he hollered.

Driven rain pricked at the back of his neck. Andrew shivered.

Boats and fishermen were often lost on this little lake when sudden storms stirred up the basin of Galilee. As clouds rolled in to cover the moon, the silhouettes of the other boats disappeared. “Back to shore!” called Andrew. He stood to help, but when he did a gust of wind thrust the boat to one side and threw him back to his seat.

Another blast whipped the sagging sail out of Peter’s arms and a wave sloshed over the side. The boat lurched upward on the crest of a swell, and tipped downward toward the valley between them. Andrew lost his grip on the oar and found himself sliding toward the bow, water rushing down the deck as he clawed his way back to his oar.

But it was gone.

Without warning another wave crashed in on them, and for a moment they were nearly submerged.

The boat surfaced as it was heaved upward by a wave. It leaned to one side and the wave drained from the boat, while pounding rain filled it again.

Peter clung to the mast with the sail wadded round it to keep the wind from grabbing it again.

The scant cargo had washed over with the first swamping wave. There was nothing to dump to lighten the boat, and the waves and rain made it heavier every moment.

Lightning lit the sky occasionally and when it did, Andrew counted silhouettes. Six of them had left the shore in this boat. He counted again. Five.

Andrew’s eyes darted from the left to right side of the boat looking for any sign of someone dangling off the edge or thrashing overboard.

Then by the flash of the lightning, he found the missing man. Tucked under the curvature of the stern, on the leather bench was Jesus. Still sleeping.

Rain pounded the deck and smattered the throbbing sea.

Andrew screamed, “Master!” A clap of thunder cut him off. “Master!” he tried again. “We’re going to drown!” There was no answer.

Andrew stared into the stern, waiting for lightning, hoping to see Jesus stir.

All of them, still anchored to their posts, hollered their own warnings and pleas, “Lord, save us! We’re drowning!”  Finally, Phillip let go of his post and as the bow of the boat rose with the swell, he slid to the stern and nearly slammed into Jesus

Phillip grabbed a rope for stability and shook Jesus with his free hand. He hollered over the roaring storm, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

The boat plunged downward again, and this time, Jesus was awake for it.

*****************************

The disciples are about to die and Jesus is sleeping. Their exhausted Prince of Peace, unhurried, unworried, but not unconcerned.

It seems to us a cruel irony that the Prince of Peace would allow such turmoil in their lives or in ours. We know in our heads, “He’s got the whole world in his hands.” But a quick look around gives us reason to question.

When our circumstances are stormy, and fear thrashes around, we often cry with the disciples, “Don’t you care?” We are scared and he is silent.

And yet, fear propels us, like a child fresh out of a nightmare, into the arms of a loving father. We throw ourselves at him, even with hints of accusation.

And what is Christ’s response? He shows himself awake to the need and sees we are in perfect position to witness the magnitude of who he is.

The post A Fresh Look at the Familiar: Fear appeared first on Shauna Letellier.