Peter swam

I can't help but think about the day that Peter swam. It was after Jesus had been risen from the dead. It was also after Peter had fallen.

I wonder what it was that compelled him in his fallen state to jump from the boat and swim to Jesus. I wonder what it was that he knew that I don't. What was it that caused him to run after God, when all I can think to do is flee?

You ever get that way? I mean, here we are living the dream, untouchable, confident that we are God's gift to people, and then we just blow it. I mean we blow it, a moral failure, bad thoughts, bad actions, just plain bad stuff comes spewing out of us. Is God really the first one I run to? And if so, is it because I really know why I am running to Him, or is it because I really don't believe that there are any consequences to my sin?

I guess what I am trying to say is this; Peter knew the love and mercy and compassion and joy of Jesus. He knew that he could fling himself out of the boat, run to the lover of His soul, bear himself without shame, feel the embrace of his master, and fall apart under grace. He knew that somewhere in Jesus was a new life. He knew that somewhere in Jesus was an embrace that could restore him. He knew that somewhere he would find the man who didn't throw stones.

What an incredible joy for Peter. What an incredible joy for me. I can blow it in the worst way possible. And even if there are raging consequences to my sin and failure. Even if the spanking leaves me limping, He loves me with restoration, healing, and kindness.

Can we leave it at this; when I fall and am covered in self and reek with stench of sin I can turn to Papa. Peter understood the love of Jesus, Judas did not. I wonder how often we live as Judas, under the guilt and weight of our failures? I wonder how often we think He won't understand, won't forgive, won't love, won't show mercy, won't punish, or just won't care? I wonder how often we find comfort with Judas as we share a pint?

Judas never understood the love of God, Peter did.