

shame covered,
Peter leapt into the sea.
Where tears once drowned hope
and denials became despair and self loathing,
his eyes had seen that figure on the shore,
that body once strung across the stained wood of execution.
A revived fishing business,
the dull depression of remembered cowardice,
of failed courage,
bad dreams of abandonment,
a deep sea of pain,
now splashed with new hope.
Peter would make it to the shore.
He is risen.
Peter is risen from the dead.
Three times denied.
Three times invited to love again
by him who three times prayed his own despair
and, three times mocked ‘mid three crosses,
in three days rose to resurrect Peter.
Peter made it to the shore.
Others made it to the shore.
They ate together,
a fellowship of grace and rehabilitation,
of forgiveness and hope,
a symbol of the persistence of divine love,
also for you and me.
Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore,
He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?”
“No,” they answered.
He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.”
Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!”