My thoughts (Jeff Miner):

In the churches I grew up in, we were encouraged to pick a “life verse.” The goal was to find a verse that spoke deeply to us, that we hoped would define our lives, and then “live into” that verse. Asking someone “What’s your life verse?” was as common in fundamentalist circles back then as it was in other circles to ask, “What’s your sign?”

I chose First John 5:4 as my life verse. In the old King James Version I used as a teenager, the verse reads: “Whatever is born of God overcometh the world, and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.” That verse has always appealed to me because, intuitively, it has always seemed to me that faith is something that ought to work.

When conducting experiments in a laboratory, scientists will test a hypothesis. If they get a positive result, they keep repeating the same procedure to see if they can consistently achieve the same positive result. If so, they know they’re on to something.

Faith should be the same way. Faith should consistently change our lives for the better. I’m not saying that faith should be a way of gaining everything I want. Rather, faith should be something that helps me live well in (i.e., “overcome”) every circumstance. If faith doesn’t do that — if it doesn’t work — I need to keep searching for something that does.

The faith found in the Scriptures works — powerfully. It raised Jesus from the dead, it healed the lame, it lifts broken hearts, it gives profound insight for living. By God’s grace, I want to embrace that faith, make it my own, and live a triumphant life no matter what circumstances come my way. In short, by God’s grace, I want to “overcome the world.”

How about you? Don’t sell yourself short. Embrace your faith and put it to work in your life. If we’re open to it, there is no circumstance that God cannot enable us to triumph over.

Thought for the day: What’s your life verse? As you study the Bible, be on the lookout for a key verse that you hope to “live into.”

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. Use the item above as a starting point, or consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.

My thoughts (Jeff Miner):

Today’s scripture is an excellent example of how meaning can be lost in translation. What we are reading in English was originally written in ancient Greek. In ancient Greek, there were several different words for “love” — two of which are used in today’s passage.

“Phileo” refers to the kind of love we have for our good friends. It roughly corresponds to how we might feel when we say, “I’m very fond of you.” It is the root word from which we get Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love.

“Agape” is a word that was rarely used in ancient Greek until Christians grabbed on to it and infused it with a whole new level of meaning. In the New Testament, “agape” is used to describe perfect love — the way God loves us — sacrificial love.

With this as background, let’s revisit the dialogue in today’s reading. In verse 15, Jesus says, “Simon son of John, do you ‘agape’ me?” In other words, “Do you love me with a love so great you would sacrifice for me?” Remember, just a few days earlier, Simon Peter had denied ever knowing Jesus, so as to save his own neck. Given that, Peter surely knew it would be hypocritical to claim now to be willing to sacrifice for Jesus.

So Peter responds evasively. He says, “Lord, you know that I ‘phileo’ you.” Undeterred, Jesus asks the same question again in verse 16, still using the word “agape.” Peter responds a second time with “phileo.” So, finally, in verse 17, Jesus changes his question. This time Jesus says, “Simon son of John, do you ‘phileo’ me?” This time Peter seems to break down. My paraphrase of Peter’s final response, in verse 17, is as follows:

Lord, you know everything. You know that I can’t claim to love you enough to sacrifice for you. I proved that just a few days ago. But you also know that, although my feelings for you have not yet have reached the “agape” level, I do love you deeply.

This seems to be the point of honest self-awareness Jesus hoped to push Peter to. The questioning stops, and Jesus simply says, “Then feed my sheep.” It is as if Jesus is saying:

Even though your love for me is imperfect, I still want and need you. I want you to take a leading role in feeding my sheep. So stop wallowing in guilt, get back on your feet, dust yourself off, and get back in the game!

Peter must have felt enormous relief. Jesus had looked right through him, saw his imperfection, and still wanted him anyway. The application to us is obvious. Many times have we behaved in a way that, in effect, denied Jesus. Consumed by guilt, we slump into spiritual despair.

Stop it! Maybe your imperfection is news to you, but it’s not to God. The glorious message of today’s scripture is that God wants us, loves us, and can use us in spite of ourselves.

When Peter stopped being paralyzed by imperfection, he seems to have finally freed himself to grow to the point where he was actually able to reach a place of genuine sacrificial love for Jesus. According to Christians tradition, Peter would eventually be crucified upside down by the Romans because he refused to deny Jesus. Think about it! He who denied ever knowing Jesus at the time of the crucifixion ends up himself being crucified decades later because he refused to deny knowing Jesus.

Step by step, patiently, slowly over time, by engaging his pain rather than running from it, by accepting God’s forgiveness, by being patient with himself, Peter was able to become like Jesus, living the “agape” he had so lavishly received. But achieving that took time.

Thought for the day: Like Peter, we are on a halting journey of spiritual progress. Sometimes it seems like one step forward, two steps backward. But God doesn’t give up on us, so we must not give up on ourselves.

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to get started, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.

My thoughts (Jeff Miner):

This passage continues the story we began yesterday. Ashamed and discouraged, Peter is thinking about returning to his old profession of fishing. He has recruited six of his closest friends to join him in the boat. “But that night,” verse 3 says, “they caught nothing.”

At daybreak, the risen Christ appears on the shore and calls out a question. Notice the unusual wording of the question, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” Clearly this is less of a question than a statement. Jesus is trying to make a point. These seven disciples are where they weren’t supposed to be — returning to their old fishing ways. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’re not going to be successful as long as they’re in that mode.

Then Jesus offers a suggestion. “Throw your net on the right side of the boat.” They did so, and caught an enormous amount of fish. Now the teaching point is complete. When we do things our way, the going is tough, very tough. When we take care to listen to God’s voice in our lives, everything seems to work better.

All of this reminds me of when I first came out and started dating. I figured by age 28 the best days of my life had already passed me by; I had to hurry up and find a spouse before I was aged and decrepit. So I took matters into my own hands. I made impulsive, hasty, unwise dating decisions. I was operating out of a scarcity mentality — “there are so few quality people in the world, I’d better grab the first halfway decent person I meet.” As a result, I ended up dating several wonderful people with whom I was woefully mismatched. Despite all my efforts to catch the right man, my nets were empty! How frustrating!

It’s a funny thing. When I stopped worrying so much about finding a spouse, relaxed, and started focusing more attention on doing what God wanted me to, that’s when I stumbled across David Zier. We became friends working together on a church ministry team, dated a couple years, and eventually married. We are a wonderful fit. We recently celebrated our 21st anniversary. What a catch!

Thought for the day: Where in your life do you feel like Peter — investing enormous energy, but gaining no meaningful return? Is it possible you’re not managing that area of life the way God wants? What would happen if you stopped pressing so hard, and instead listened for God’s voice of leading?

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to get started, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.

My thoughts (Jeff Miner):

To understand the context of today’s reading, we must remember what happened in John 18:10-27. There, after Jesus’ arrest, Simon Peter denied being one of his disciples. It’s not that he didn’t have time to think about it. Three times Peter was asked and three times he issued the same emphatic denial. The other Gospel accounts say that Peter even swore and cursed for added emphasis.

Picture it: “G– d—, I told you, I am not one of his f—— disciples; I don’t even know the man!”

Imagine an Apostle saying something like that! Imagine Peter’s shame.

Now we encounter Peter again, after Jesus has risen. He seems utterly unable to join in the celebration. He probably feels that he has disqualified himself — that he no longer has any right to presume to be part of Jesus’ inner circle. There’s nothing left for him to do but to go back to his old profession — fishing.

Each one of us can relate. In things small, and in things large, we find ourselves denying our Lord.

I recall a few years ago, on Easter Sunday no less, I found myself behaving badly. Our Church had reservations for Easter Brunch at a nice restaurant. By the time I arrived, the waitress informed me that all available slots we had reserved were already taken. I said I understood, that I would just go into the dining room to tell my party that I wouldn’t be able to join them. “No!” she said, as she threw her arm out to bar me. I explained that I was a pastor, that I just wanted to give my regrets to folks from my congregation who were already inside, and I assured her I would come right back out. “No, I can’t let you do that.” “Why?” I asked. “You might not come back out.” “But I give you my word — I’m a pastor.”

But she remained firm. “I’m sorry,” she said. I shook my head and said, “I’m sorry for your rudeness,” then left. I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling discouraged that I had tarnished the name of Christ by my ungracious response.

You know the feeling? Of course, the example I’ve given is a relatively small thing. We’ve all done much worse. What is the most shameful thing you’ve ever done?

Our shame presents an enormous temptation — the temptation to throw our hands in the air and say, “I give up; I’m going fishing” — i.e., I’m going back to the way I used to be before I started trying to follow Jesus. I’ve heard it said that “discouragement is Satan’s favorite tool.”

When we get discouraged, there is only one antidote. We have to clear our conscience by confessing our sin, then force ourselves to get up and move bravely forward. Nothing is gained by getting stuck in our shame.

Do you remember the 1980s movie Chariots of Fire? It tells the true story of Eric Liddell, a devout Christian who was also a renowned Olympic runner. In a pivotal 440-yard race leading up to the Olympics, Liddell’s feet got tangled with another runner and he fell. When a runner falls in a race that short, he is doomed. There is no way to catch up and win.

When he fell, Liddell sat on the ground dazed for a moment, then — amazingly — got up and resumed the race. Half way around the track he had reached the back of the pack of runners. The crowd went wild. He kept pressing forward. With forty yards left, he pulled into third place, then second. Right at the tape he drew even with the leader, stuck out his chest, and won — then collapsed on the track from total exhaustion. An article appearing the next day in The Scotsman newspaper said, “Veterans whose memories take them back 35 years or more were unanimous that Liddell’s win was the greatest track performance they had ever seen.”

Thought for the day: The real test of our Christianity comes when we fall. Do we stay there, overwhelmed by regret and shame? Or do we get up and start running again — more determined than ever?

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to start, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.

My thoughts (Jeff Miner):

Two thoughts leap out off the page and grab my heart.

The first is found in verse 13. “Then Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him.” We miss the significance of this because we’ve never encountered leprosy. Back in Jesus’ day, it was a dreaded disease that was thought to be spread by touch. Those who had leprosy were forced to leave their homes and live outside the city gates. If you had leprosy and someone approached, you were suppose to call out a warning, “Unclean! Unclean!”

Imagine how isolated a leper must have felt — cut off from home and family, forced to live like a homeless person on the margins of society.

Notice that the man who approached Jesus was “covered with leprosy.” He would have been utterly disgusting to look at, and even more so to touch.

Keeping a safe distance from Jesus, the leper bows down and begs, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” Jesus says, “I do choose.” Then, to the utter surprise of the leper and onlookers, Jesus reaches out and touches the man!

The message is clear: None of us is ever too far gone for Jesus to embrace. Jesus was in the business of befriending and healing outcasts. We are called to do the same.

Which brings us to the second point I see. Jesus ordered the man not to tell anyone about this miracle. Why? Verse 15 indicates that as Jesus became more and more famous, the burden of his work was becoming overwhelming. So many people to heal! But notice what Jesus did. “He would withdraw to deserted places and pray.”

We should learn from his example. A healer cannot heal unless the healer is keeping his or her own soul together. Think of it; there were times when Jesus deliberately avoided a crowd of needy people, because he knew he had to get away to rest and refresh.

We are called to minister to hurting people, but not in a way that is unhealthy. We do what we can, then slip away to refresh, so we can come back and do more.

Thought for the day: Pace yourself. If Jesus needed to rest, so do you!

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to get started, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.

My thoughts (Jeff Miner):

Each time I read this passage, my first thought is that the paralyzed man must have been disappointed when Jesus said, “Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven.” Odds are he had come to Jesus because he wanted a miracle of physical healing, not mere forgiveness.

But maybe my assumption is wrong. Maybe Jesus looked into this man’s eyes and realized he was carrying heavy guilt from some past deed that was more painful than even his physical disability. If forced to choose, maybe this man would have chosen forgiveness over healing.

Have you ever seen the movie The Sin Eater? It tells the story of a 10–year-old girl named Cadi who lived in Appalachia in the 1850s. Several years earlier, Cadi had a huge argument with her younger sister over a doll. Their Mom intervened and chastised Cadi. Upset, Cadi shouted that she hated her Mom and her sister, and ran off into the woods. She went where she was forbidden to go, doing a tight-rope walk on a tree felled over a high ravine, to reach her secret hiding place. As she reached the other side of the ravine, Cadi looked back and saw her little sister running after her. She too was now trying to tight-rope walk across the ravine. She teeters. She sways. She loses her balance. She falls . . . to her death.

Imagine Cadi’s guilt.

Desperate for relief, Cadi became obsessed with finding the “sin eater.” Sin-eating was practiced in some ancient Welsh cultures and among Welsh immigrants to the United States. Sometimes a beggar became the sin-eater; other times villages would select someone by lots. The sin-eater lived as a hermit in isolation. When someone died, he emerged from the shadows at the burial. As he emerged, mourners turned and hid their faces. No one was allowed to look into the eyes of the sin-eater lest they be cursed. Quietly the sin-eater would enter the graveyard, consume bread and wine left on the chest of the deceased, say ritual words meant to transfer the sins of the deceased to himself, then steal away. Everyone would feel a sense of relief that the sins of the deceased were gone.

So Cadi managed to find the sin-eater, and even convinced him to perform the ritual while she was still alive. But afterward she felt no different. The crushing load of her guilt remained. Before long, we see her standing on the felled tree over the ravine, ready to jump.

Perhaps that’s where the paralyzed man found himself. Perhaps he carried a burden much greater than his physical disability — some inexcusable deed that still haunted him — and he just couldn’t stand it anymore. Then he encountered Jesus, dared to look into His eyes, and felt a love that melted away years of accumulated guilt. Jesus knew what he had done, yet still said, “Your sins are forgiven.” What relief! The eternal part of him — his soul — was healed. Physical healing was truly secondary.

Thought for the day: Do you find yourself teetering on the felled tree, about to give up? Don’t! Dare to look into Jesus’ eyes and tell me what you see. “Take heart, my child; your sins are forgiven.”

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to get started, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.