Jesus, after the resurrection, encounters several of His disciples along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, and in the encounter He asks Peter, not once but three times the question, “Do you love me?” (See John 21)

So, that’s the question I’ve been wrestling with most of the week myself: Do you love me? I must confess that wrestling with that question has caused me no small amount of pain and not a little confusion.

My initial answer, like Peter’s, is “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” As with Peter, so with me, Jesus has been persistent in asking the question and with each answer I find myself a little more confused, and if I’m honest, a little more uncertain that my answer is truthful.

I’ve come to the realization that I don’t love Him the way that He loves me. That’s probably because I am unable to grasp how much He really loves me and unless I can grasp that, I can’t love Him that much. Of course, you understand that when I say he loves me that I mean “us”…all of us. He loves us deeply and passionately…so passionately and so deeply, in fact, that He was willing to die for us…to give His life for ours.

Consequently, His call to us is to love others in the same way He loves us. He calls us, like Peter, to pour ourselves out for others (“Feed my lambs,” “Take care of my sheep,” “Feed my sheep”). His love for us is shown by action, not by emotion. Our love for Him can only be seen in our actions toward others. Unfortunately, I’ve come to realize my love for Him stays on the emotional level. I love Him as long as I’m receiving some benefit from Him.

The entire conversation has caused me to question my motivations for leaving full-time ministry in 2019. That’s nearly five years ago now, and this week of reflection on this passage has brought it back up. I’ve wondered if my leaving full-time, vocational ministry is proof that I don’t really love Him. I’ve questioned whether my leaving was courage, or cowardice? I want to believe it was courage. I’ve come to think it was cowardice.

Loving Jesus is a heavy lift. It demands a willingness to “take up our cross and follow Him.” It demands forgiveness. It demands holiness. It demands sacrifice. It demands loving and caring for His sheep…his smelly, dirty, rotten, hard-headed sheep. Did I abandon His sheep? Have I failed to take up the cross? Did I count the cost and determine the price was too high? Was that my way of saying, “Lord, I don’t really love You”? Perhaps I don’t have the strength (or the courage) to do such a heavy lift. After all, I’m not Peter.

I suppose the season of Lent is for grappling with these kinds of deep questions. You might be surprised to discover that when you to get to the end of this blog you’ll not find a deeply compelling answer or a shocking revelation. I’m still grappling with the question. I don’t have an answer yet. Jesus really has backed me into a corner with His question.

All I know to do at this point is pray this prayer: Break me, Lord, until I love you. Let me hurt with the most awful pain until all I have left is to love You. Perhaps I don’t understand what I’m asking for, but perhaps You know best what I need. I know I want to love You the way Peter came to love You. I want to take up my cross and follow You. I want to be broken by You and I want to be broken for You because I want to answer Your question with a definitive, “Yes! Lord You know I love You!”

I can only thank Him that Sunday is coming! Lent can’t be over soon enough.

Until next time, keep looking up…