Feed my lambs

June 26th 2011, St. Peter and St. Paul, observed

Ezekiel 34:11-16
Psalm 87
2 Timothy 4:1-8
John 21:15-19

He was less than four feet tall but his voice echoed through the halls of the church, swear words becoming a sailor –big anger issuing forth from that small mouth. This tirade was followed closely by a small chair that his strong, little arms had tossed across the room. Big pain overwhelming the small heart in a young boy who was having to make sense of a father gone, of a cousin shot, a mother frantic. A small boy making sense of race, of discrimination, of loss when Elmo and Big Bird should have been the focus of his attention. This was Giovanni, and for one summer he was the sheep God placed in my path.

I spent the summer after my sophomore year of college living with eight companions in a small house in NE Portland, spending all our working hours at Maranatha Church providing “camps” for children in the neighborhood. And Giovanni: hungry, angry, afraid and five years old joined my small group the first day - dumping my bubbles, breaking my sidewalk chalk, and opening a door for me to learn more about Grace then I could ever imagine.

Peter do you love me? Tend my lambs. Peter do you love me? Feed my sheep. Peter do you love me? Follow me.

We know the rest of the story. We know the Peter who made a life of tending and feeding sheep, who followed Jesus in seeking the lost, binding up the injured, strengthening the weak, and followed Jesus into persecution and death on a cross. We know a Peter who seems bigger than life, who has churches named after him…

But this Peter in today’s story – he is not so different than you and me. He has messed up, a lot. He is enthusiastic, but impulsive. He is pious but overstated. He desperately loves Jesus but finds his heart ruled more by fear than love. And he has just denied even knowing Jesus, let alone being a committed disciple. It is to this very human character that Jesus appears – that Jesus meets, right where his heart is. See in Greek the story goes something like this, “Peter do you agape me – do you love me unconditionally”
“Jesus I philio you – I love you like a brother”. “Peter do you agape me?” “Jesus, I philio you.” So Jesus meets Peter where his heart is. “Peter, do you love me like a brother?” “Yes Jesus, you know that I do.”

Peter isn’t the mountain of faith here. He is not bigger than life – he is like us, trying to love God the best he can – and Jesus meets him right where he is: and calls him to great works.

In the same way Jesus meets you and I, in our own very human, imperfect hearts. Do you love me - do you strive to love me? Tend my lambs. Feed my sheep. Follow me.

But Jesus, we say, I don’t know how to tend sheep! Guess what! Peter was a fisherman – he didn’t really know either! This is a call that takes us away from what is comfortable, from what seems natural and asks us to follow to the place in the world where there are those who are lost, who are afraid, who are broken and weak and find the Good Shepherd working great works through our very human hands, our awkward words, our stumbling feet.

Today like Peter we are called to tend the lambs, feed the sheep and follow the God of grace into unexpected places. We are, each of us, challenged to intentionally seek the lost. We are challenged to put ourselves in the way of the broken of this world and offer help. And together we are challenged to find ways as a church to love the weak. This is not a side note, a nice addition to the life of faith! NO! This is Jesus’ great call to his people, TO US. Feed my sheep!!

But just as we are all Peter today, we are also sheep. In each heart here there is a place of loss. Places that are broken and weak. Places desperately in need of the good shepherd. We want to be fed. To each person seeking, each person hungry today I offer you this: If you will follow Christ into the sea of lost and broken hearts in the world you will experience grace in ways that you never imagined. You will be fed. You will be fed. That is just one thing I learned from Giovanni.

I believe that Giovanni had never set foot in a church before that summer. He knew a little about love from his gentle but frightened mother and he knew a lot about a world that hurts and takes away, but Giovanni didn’t know anything about a shepherd who cradles his small body in his arms and binds up every wound. I never saw Giovanni again after that summer. I do not know if he ever set foot in a church again. But that summer I know God gathered him up and spoke love.

Giovanni didn’t leave our camp ready to apply for sainthood, but something about being with a bunch of neighborhood and college kids each day, present to him in his anger or in his joys did cause a shift. He smiled more. He swore less. He asked for help more…I remember one evening he and his brother walked up to our house (we lived right across the street from the church) “Ms. Tracy you got any food, ‘cause what my mamma made for dinner was nasty!”. I do believe that if nothing else, Giovanni left that camp convinced that there was a God who loved him, no matter what.

Giovanni had a loud voice for angry swear words. He also had a powerful voice to sing. And in the midst of song all of his anger melted away. His non-compliant, ornery mannerisms morphed into an intense focus. And hands that had thrown chairs, broken toys, and punched with fists, instead were lifted high. “JESUS LOVES ME THIS I KNOW”. And then in another verse, looking around at the other kids, looking right at me: “JESUS LOVES YOU THIS I KNOW”. Yes Giovanni, yes he does. In all our brokenness the good shepherd does indeed love us more than we could ever ask or imagine.

Amen.

Deacon Tracy LeBlanc