Can victories come from defeat? This question has visited my thoughts recently since my Clemson Tigers have lost two of their first four football games.
At the end of the gospel of John, Jesus’ disciples were feeling exhausted, confused, and defeated. They had been through more in two weeks than most can say of a lifetime. Undoubtedly, they were still processing all that had taken place - recalling words, and rehearsing experiences. Everything they knew was forever altered by the three years they had spent with Jesus. They were fishermen, tax collectors, and physicians who became students, friends, and followers of a rabbi who set something terrible and wonderful in motion. Even if they did not yet have their minds wrapped around it, they had an awareness that they had stood on holy ground. They had seen Jesus perform miracles. They had seen Him worshipped and despised. They had seen Him killed and buried. They had seen the dead body. And then, they had seen him alive - twice!
Early in the morning (John 21), possibly out of habit (or possibly out of a need to be in a place where they had spent time with the one they just lost) the disciples went fishing. As they were fishing, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize who it was. From the shore He called out, “...do you have you any fish?” They answered him, “No.” “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some,” came the reply. (John 21.5-6)
Perhaps since they had used all other fish-catching options or perhaps because the advice seemed familiar (see Luke 5), they listened to the One on the shore. And when they did, they were unable to haul in the net because of the great catch.
Immediately one of them cried out in recognition: “It is the Lord!” (John 21.7) As soon as Peter heard that, he jumped into the water and swam to the shore. (Sorry, but images of Forrest Gump doing something similar while calling out, “Lt. Dan! Lt. Dan!” come to mind.) The other disciples hurriedly followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish. When they came ashore, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it and some bread. And Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” (v.12)
Whether it is the first or the one hundred-and-first time hearing John’s retelling of the appearance of the resurrected Jesus, it is a story that saturates us with anticipation. It is a story in which to rightfully get caught up. Once again in the presence of the One who called them to follow, the disciples approached the fire. Their hearts burned within them as they stood beside the Lord. In this third appearance of the One they had seen dead and buried, Jesus invited them to eat with Him.
Humbled by this privileged view of God’s glory and the realization that something was at work far beyond them, the disciples were silenced before the risen Christ. John recounts the common sentiment among them. His words seem to bow before Jesus’s invitation to nearness: “Now none of the disciples dared ask him, ‘Who are you?’ They knew it was the Lord” (v. 12).
There was a time when I found myself pressing to add my voice to that fireside quietness. Daring to question and rebelliously demanding answers, I wanted to ask, “Who are you and what do you want from me?” I struggled with the God whose persistence and pursuit I found exhausting and whose very will required me to repeatedly relinquish my own.
Certainly, there are triumphant defeats that rival the best victories. Along our journey of surrendering to God, this battle seems an unavoidable illustration. There is truth to the thought that surrendering to God can be a struggle that begins again each day as if nothing had been accomplished before. However, it is in this great surrendering that we find not toil but triumph, not repression but release.
May we all be humbled by the God who refuses to leave us despite the words we might shout in protest or despite our refusal to surrender. May we be awed by the One who says, “Follow me!” and expects us to trust that He will not leave or forsake us. And may we marvel at the God who, carrying in His body the scars of defeat, invites us to His nearness. That is our victory!
