The other day, as I walked through the church, I paused for a moment, standing in the center aisle, contemplating the nature of this place. I have found I do this occasionally when the church building is empty, when all the doors are locked, and there is no one else around. There is something profound about this space. It does not look like the big box stage of a contemporary church, nor have the beauty of a classical sanctuary. It remains, for all outward appearances, a fairly typical and unassuming Christian place of worship: Cross, altar, pulpit, pews. Yet, when I consider this place, when I think about what it means or what it functions as, it is, in every way, a sanctuary. It is not a launching pad for the mission field or a resource for the community. It is a place for you, for the people of God. This is a space for you to gather around the gifts of God and rest from a world of constant drive and turmoil, a place of refreshment and strength. Here is where you are reminded, you are not alone.

The fear of being alone lurks within us all. This is not to say we do not have times when we just want to get away from everything, to lose ourselves in a good book, or to escape the commotion of this world. But to be truly alone, to be abandoned to ourselves, is something no one wants to endure for very long. My dad is a lover of old westerns, and growing up, we would regularly watch these portrayals of the lone cowboy who did not need or want anyone else in their life. For them, to be alone was to be free. But as I have grown, I have learned what a lie that is. It is not good for man to be alone. We need others. We need friendship. We need love and fellowship. We need to know we are not abandoned.

But sometimes we wonder if we have been abandoned. Sometimes we can feel desperately alone even in the midst of our families and friends. We keep our true thoughts to ourselves. We do not want to risk upsetting the cart. So, we just press on, trapped in our own thoughts and fears, with unspoken longings, wondering if anyone will even notice. Will anyone even care?

The disciples have endured massive turmoil, from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs. From the shock of their Lord’s arrest in a garden to the sham of the trial and the brutal execution. They cowered in fear, wondering if they might be next. If they did this to Jesus, what would happen to them? Do they need to escape from the city? Where will they go? What comes next? Then, as they are locked away in fear, He appears to them. Our risen Lord arrives in their midst to give them peace and send them out. In fact, He comes a second time, so Thomas, too, might see and believe. But now what? Is He still with them? Will He continue to come? They have returned to the Sea of Tiberias, and the next steps all seem precarious and unsure. Peter suddenly says, “I’m going fishing.” And why not? They were fishermen long before the call to, “Follow Me.” It is what they know. It is what they are good at.

They returned to their old habits, doing what they had done for many years. The smell of the sea and the feel of the nets in their hands made it all seem like a crazy dream. They may not know what the future will hold, what the shape of their life will look like, but this is familiar. This is something they can do. They fish all night, going through the motions, but they do not catch anything. As the morning sun begins to rise, they see a lone man standing on the beach. He seems to be trying to get their attention. They stop their work and listen intently. “Children,” He says, “Children, do you have any fish?” “No,” they answer, and He says, “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” He calls them His children and treats them as His children, telling them precisely what they must do to succeed. And, shockingly, they follow His words. Instantly, they catch such a large number of fish that they cannot even haul the net into the boat.

John gets it right away. He says to Peter, “It is the Lord.” They are not alone. They have not been abandoned. He is with them, and He provides a miraculous catch of fish. Peter throws on his outer garments and jumps without hesitation into the sea. He rushes to be with Him, to be near Him, to be in the presence of the Word made flesh. The others are dragging the net full of fish up on the shore, and when they get to Him, they find He has breakfast all ready for them. He provides the fish. He provides the meal. He provides for His children, and He continues to provide even now. Jesus calls you His children as He washes you in the waters of Holy Baptism. There, He gives you all which is His, all His righteousness and perfection. And He continues to provide saying, “Take, eat, this is My body. Take, drink, this is My blood shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” You are not alone. Your Lord does not abandon you.

But notice what Jesus does next. He turns to Peter to provide a word, a charge that he is going to need. Peter, who had boldly proclaimed he would lay down his life for His Lord, but when the rubber hit the road, denied Him. When asked if he was a disciple, he declared, “I am not.” Three times he repeated this, and three times he denied even knowing Him. And so, Jesus addresses it here. “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to Him, “Yes, Lord; you know I love You.” He said to him, “Feed My lambs.”  Then our Lord repeats the question a second time. In fact, He asks him three times, “Simon, son of John, do you love Me?” This grieves Peter, but apparently a three-fold denial calls for a three-fold confession of love. And each time Jesus turns Peter toward the flock, toward the care and tending and feeding of the sheep.

He provides Peter with restoration as his life will be lived in service as an under-shepherd to the Good Shepherd. He speaks somewhat cryptically about what this life will cost him, about his martyrdom, but also how he does not go alone. One thing has become clear, our Lord provides, and He will not abandon His children. Therefore, the call rings out throughout the Church today, the call of our providing Lord: “Follow me.”

And like Peter, like the first disciples, we are turned toward each other, toward the flock of Jesus. We gather in this sanctuary so we might not lose any, so the sheep are tended with love, fed with forgiveness, and strengthened with the promises of God’s eternal provision. We gather safe from the world to hear again that you are forgiven, you are loved, and you are the children of God.