Love that Transforms
Have you ever had someone look past your carefully constructed image and ask you the one question you hoped they'd never ask? The question that cuts straight to the core of who you really are? This is exactly what we find in John 21, where the risen Jesus has a conversation with Peter that goes straight to the heart of what it means to follow Him.
The scene is set on a beach, with the smell of charcoal smoke and grilling fish in the air. For Peter, this should have been a pleasant moment, but instead, it made his stomach turn. The last time he'd stood around a charcoal fire, he'd sworn—with curses—that he didn't even know Jesus. Now, around this new fire, Jesus is about to ask him a question three times. But this isn't payback—it's restoration.
Jesus asks Peter, "Do you love me more than these?" It's a deceptively simple question, but it's brilliantly crafted to probe the depths of Peter's heart. Jesus isn't just asking if Peter loves Him—that's too easy to answer. He's asking if Peter loves Him more than everything else. Because love is always comparative. It's always in competition with something else for the throne of our hearts.
This question hits particularly close to home for all of us. Jesus isn't just competing with obviously bad things in our lives. He's competing with the good things that have become ultimate things. He's asking us to examine not our vices, but our virtues that have become idols. Do we love Jesus more than our careers that define our identity? More than our children's success that validates our parenting? More than our retirement plans that promise security? More than our reputation that opens doors? More than our comfort that insulates us from pain?
When Jesus asks if Peter loves Him, He uses the word agape—the deepest, most sacrificial form of love. But when Peter responds, he uses phileo—the word for affectionate friendship. Peter, having learned the hard way about the danger of overconfident promises, is now more honest about the state of his heart. He's essentially saying, "Jesus, you know I'm fond of you. You know I have genuine affection for you. But that deeper love—the kind that would die for you—I'm not sure I can claim that anymore."
This is actually spiritual progress! Peter is learning to be honest about his spiritual condition rather than presumptuous about his spiritual strength. He's discovering those deep, often unconscious patterns that reveal what we actually worship versus what we think we worship.
How often do we examine our love for Jesus with this kind of honesty? We live in a culture of spiritual superficiality, where we can mistake religious activity for genuine affection, where we can confuse theological knowledge with heart transformation. True love for Jesus must be tested and examined, not to discourage us, but to help us grow.
Jesus asks Peter the same question three times, not because He's being cruel, but because love—real love—isn't a one-time declaration. It's a growing, deepening reality that must be cultivated and strengthened. This is how spiritual growth actually works. It's not about sudden, dramatic transformations (though those can happen). It's usually about the slow, patient work of God's grace in our hearts, gradually reshaping our affections and aligning them with His.
We live in a culture obsessed with quick fixes and instant results. We want spiritual maturity the same way we want everything else—fast, efficient, and measurable. But God works like a master gardener rather than a microwave oven. He plants seeds of truth in the soil of our hearts, waters them with His Word and community, and then waits as they slowly take root and grow.
Each time Peter confesses his love, Jesus gives him a task: "Feed my lambs," "Take care of my sheep," "Feed my sheep." This isn't coincidental. True love for Jesus always expresses itself in care for what Jesus cares about—His people. Love for Jesus that doesn't translate into love for His church, His mission, and His people is not genuine love for Jesus.
This is where it gets costly in Christian discipleship. It's easy to love Jesus in the abstract; it's much harder to love Jesus in the flesh-and-blood reality of His people. Jesus' sheep aren't always easy to love. They're messy, needy, sometimes ungrateful. They have opinions that clash with ours, backgrounds that make us uncomfortable, and problems that inconvenience our schedules. Yet Jesus says that loving Him means loving them, serving them, feeding them—not just the ones who are like us, but all of them.
Jesus then tells Peter something sobering about the kind of death he would die to glorify God. But there's a broader principle here: mature love for Jesus leads to a life where we increasingly go where He wants us to go rather than where we want to go. This is the opposite of our culture's understanding of love. We think love should make us feel good, should make life easier, should align with our preferences. But Jesus-love often calls us to uncomfortable places, difficult people, and costly choices.
For us, this costly obedience might look like choosing to stay in a difficult marriage and work toward reconciliation rather than seeking an easy exit when things get hard. It means using our financial resources to support kingdom work rather than just accumulating more comfort and security for ourselves. It involves investing in relationships with difficult people because Jesus calls us to love them, not because they make us feel good.
How do we move from shallow, emotional attachment to deep, mature love? First, we must remember who Jesus is and what He's done for us. The same Jesus who pursued Peter in his failure pursues us in ours. The same Jesus who restored Peter despite his denials restores us despite our failures.
Second, we must intentionally engage in practices that form our hearts toward Christ. We are shaped by what we do repeatedly. If we want to love Jesus more, we must practice loving Him. This means engaging regularly and meditatively with Scripture, participating in authentic Christian community, actively serving others, embracing spiritual disciplines, and making daily choices that prioritize eternal values over temporal comfort.
Finally, we must learn to live FROM Jesus' love for us, not FOR Jesus' love for us. When we live FOR God's love, we're constantly trying to earn it, maintain it, or prove ourselves worthy of it. When we live FROM God's love, we rest in the reality that we already have it fully and eternally in Christ.
The question Jesus asked Peter is the question He asks us: "Do you love me more than these?" This question isn't asked by a distant judge but by a loving Savior. It's not asked to condemn us but to grow us. It's not asked once but repeatedly, because love must be examined, deepened, and expressed throughout our lives.
May we have the grace to love Jesus more deeply, serve Him more faithfully, and follow Him more closely, until that day when we see Him face to face and our love is finally made perfect in His presence.
The scene is set on a beach, with the smell of charcoal smoke and grilling fish in the air. For Peter, this should have been a pleasant moment, but instead, it made his stomach turn. The last time he'd stood around a charcoal fire, he'd sworn—with curses—that he didn't even know Jesus. Now, around this new fire, Jesus is about to ask him a question three times. But this isn't payback—it's restoration.
Jesus asks Peter, "Do you love me more than these?" It's a deceptively simple question, but it's brilliantly crafted to probe the depths of Peter's heart. Jesus isn't just asking if Peter loves Him—that's too easy to answer. He's asking if Peter loves Him more than everything else. Because love is always comparative. It's always in competition with something else for the throne of our hearts.
This question hits particularly close to home for all of us. Jesus isn't just competing with obviously bad things in our lives. He's competing with the good things that have become ultimate things. He's asking us to examine not our vices, but our virtues that have become idols. Do we love Jesus more than our careers that define our identity? More than our children's success that validates our parenting? More than our retirement plans that promise security? More than our reputation that opens doors? More than our comfort that insulates us from pain?
When Jesus asks if Peter loves Him, He uses the word agape—the deepest, most sacrificial form of love. But when Peter responds, he uses phileo—the word for affectionate friendship. Peter, having learned the hard way about the danger of overconfident promises, is now more honest about the state of his heart. He's essentially saying, "Jesus, you know I'm fond of you. You know I have genuine affection for you. But that deeper love—the kind that would die for you—I'm not sure I can claim that anymore."
This is actually spiritual progress! Peter is learning to be honest about his spiritual condition rather than presumptuous about his spiritual strength. He's discovering those deep, often unconscious patterns that reveal what we actually worship versus what we think we worship.
How often do we examine our love for Jesus with this kind of honesty? We live in a culture of spiritual superficiality, where we can mistake religious activity for genuine affection, where we can confuse theological knowledge with heart transformation. True love for Jesus must be tested and examined, not to discourage us, but to help us grow.
Jesus asks Peter the same question three times, not because He's being cruel, but because love—real love—isn't a one-time declaration. It's a growing, deepening reality that must be cultivated and strengthened. This is how spiritual growth actually works. It's not about sudden, dramatic transformations (though those can happen). It's usually about the slow, patient work of God's grace in our hearts, gradually reshaping our affections and aligning them with His.
We live in a culture obsessed with quick fixes and instant results. We want spiritual maturity the same way we want everything else—fast, efficient, and measurable. But God works like a master gardener rather than a microwave oven. He plants seeds of truth in the soil of our hearts, waters them with His Word and community, and then waits as they slowly take root and grow.
Each time Peter confesses his love, Jesus gives him a task: "Feed my lambs," "Take care of my sheep," "Feed my sheep." This isn't coincidental. True love for Jesus always expresses itself in care for what Jesus cares about—His people. Love for Jesus that doesn't translate into love for His church, His mission, and His people is not genuine love for Jesus.
This is where it gets costly in Christian discipleship. It's easy to love Jesus in the abstract; it's much harder to love Jesus in the flesh-and-blood reality of His people. Jesus' sheep aren't always easy to love. They're messy, needy, sometimes ungrateful. They have opinions that clash with ours, backgrounds that make us uncomfortable, and problems that inconvenience our schedules. Yet Jesus says that loving Him means loving them, serving them, feeding them—not just the ones who are like us, but all of them.
Jesus then tells Peter something sobering about the kind of death he would die to glorify God. But there's a broader principle here: mature love for Jesus leads to a life where we increasingly go where He wants us to go rather than where we want to go. This is the opposite of our culture's understanding of love. We think love should make us feel good, should make life easier, should align with our preferences. But Jesus-love often calls us to uncomfortable places, difficult people, and costly choices.
For us, this costly obedience might look like choosing to stay in a difficult marriage and work toward reconciliation rather than seeking an easy exit when things get hard. It means using our financial resources to support kingdom work rather than just accumulating more comfort and security for ourselves. It involves investing in relationships with difficult people because Jesus calls us to love them, not because they make us feel good.
How do we move from shallow, emotional attachment to deep, mature love? First, we must remember who Jesus is and what He's done for us. The same Jesus who pursued Peter in his failure pursues us in ours. The same Jesus who restored Peter despite his denials restores us despite our failures.
Second, we must intentionally engage in practices that form our hearts toward Christ. We are shaped by what we do repeatedly. If we want to love Jesus more, we must practice loving Him. This means engaging regularly and meditatively with Scripture, participating in authentic Christian community, actively serving others, embracing spiritual disciplines, and making daily choices that prioritize eternal values over temporal comfort.
Finally, we must learn to live FROM Jesus' love for us, not FOR Jesus' love for us. When we live FOR God's love, we're constantly trying to earn it, maintain it, or prove ourselves worthy of it. When we live FROM God's love, we rest in the reality that we already have it fully and eternally in Christ.
The question Jesus asked Peter is the question He asks us: "Do you love me more than these?" This question isn't asked by a distant judge but by a loving Savior. It's not asked to condemn us but to grow us. It's not asked once but repeatedly, because love must be examined, deepened, and expressed throughout our lives.
May we have the grace to love Jesus more deeply, serve Him more faithfully, and follow Him more closely, until that day when we see Him face to face and our love is finally made perfect in His presence.
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