Not to sound like a pyromaniac, but I love fire. There’s just something about gathering around a pile of burning wood that changes the atmosphere.
Whether it’s a bonfire in someone’s backyard, a fire pit on a cool fall evening, or a campfire deep in the woods, people naturally gravitate toward the warmth of a fire. We pull up chairs, settle in, and somehow end up staying way longer than we intended. Conversations that might have lasted five minutes somewhere else turn into hours, covering everything from childhood memories to life’s biggest questions.
Some of my favorite memories are from Sky Ranch in Colorado, singing songs about Jesus around a fire tucked into the mountains. I can still picture the people gathered around, the glow of the flames, the strum of someone’s guitar, and the beauty of worshiping God in a place like that. Even now, the smell of a campfire can take me right back.
There’s a special kind of togetherness that happens around a fire. People share stories, laugh, sing, and sometimes reach a level of vulnerability they might not have anywhere else. But not every conversation by a fire leaves us with memories we treasure. Some leave us wishing we could take back every word.
And when I read about Peter’s restoration in John 21, I can’t help but notice that two of the most significant conversations of his life happened beside a fire.
The first took place in a courtyard on the night Jesus was arrested.
Peter, one of Jesus’s closest friends and disciples, was standing among a group of people warming themselves beside a charcoal fire. Three times, people questioned whether he was associated with Jesus. And three times, Peter denied knowing Him.
This was the same Peter who had confidently declared that he would die for Jesus (John 13:37). The same Peter who had stepped out of a boat and walked on water toward Him. The same Peter who had seen miracles and spent years following Jesus. Yet when the moment came to stand beside the One he loved, fear got the better of him.
Luke tells us that after Peter’s third denial, the rooster crowed, and Jesus turned and looked straight at him. Peter went outside and wept bitterly (Luke 22:61-62).
I can’t imagine the weight of that moment. Peter had done the very thing he swore he’d never do, and Jesus had witnessed it.
But that wasn’t the last conversation Peter would have with Jesus.
After His crucifixion and resurrection, Jesus appeared to His disciples on several occasions. One of those appearances took place along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, where Peter and several other disciples had spent the night fishing without catching anything.
As morning approached, Jesus stood on the shore and instructed them to cast their net on the right side of the boat. They obeyed, and suddenly the net was so full of fish that they couldn’t haul it in. Déjà vu. When Peter realized the man on the shore was Jesus, he jumped into the water to reach Him. And when the rest of the disciples caught up, they found breakfast waiting.
When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.
John 21:9
Another charcoal fire.
The Bible doesn’t tell us whether Jesus deliberately chose this setting to revisit Peter’s failure, but the parallel is hard for me to overlook. At the first fire, Peter denied Jesus three times. At the second, Jesus would ask Peter three times whether he loved Him.
Jesus could’ve spent this entire conversation addressing Peter’s failure. He could have demanded an explanation, a promise of future faithfulness, or proof that Peter deserved to be trusted again. Instead, Jesus asks about love. And talks about sheep.
Three times, Jesus gives Peter a closely related instruction:
“Feed My lambs.” (John 21:15)
“Take care of My sheep.” (John 21:16)
“Feed My sheep.” (John 21:17)
At first glance, these commands sound almost interchangeable. It’s easy to read them as a threefold repetition corresponding to Peter’s three denials and move on. Besides, the headline of that story is “Jesus Reinstates Peter.” But when we look more closely, there are subtle differences in the language. The verbs change. The description of the flock changes.
Scripture doesn’t explicitly explain the significance of these variations, but y’all know me and my sanctified imagination. I think there’s an invitation here to reflect on the responsibility Jesus was placing in Peter’s hands.
Peter’s restoration involved more than being welcomed back after his failure. Jesus was entrusting him with the care of people who belonged to Him. And I find that especially meaningful when we consider the man receiving those instructions.
“Feed My Lambs.” —John 21:15
Let’s look at some of the Greek words in this first command:
Boskō: to feed or provide food
Arnia: lambs or young sheep
Now, I’m no shepherd or sheepologist. My experience with sheep is pretty limited, but I think we can agree that a lamb requires a different level of attention than a fully grown sheep. Lambs are young, vulnerable, and dependent on others for their survival. They need consistent care to grow.
Spiritually, I think about people who are new to faith. People opening their Bibles for the first time, learning who Jesus is, or trying to understand what following Him looks like in everyday life.
But I also think about people whose faith has been wounded. People who have walked away from church, struggled with doubt, or found themselves in a season where their relationship with God feels fragile. A person can have years of biblical knowledge and still need the gentle, patient care we associate with a lamb.
And isn’t it interesting that Jesus gives this responsibility to Peter?
Peter had just experienced a pretty painful reminder of his own vulnerability. He’d been so confident in his ability to remain faithful, even declaring that he was willing to die for Jesus. Yet when the pressure came, his confidence proved greater than his courage.
Our weaknesses can change how we care for others. When we’ve experienced failure, we understand just how difficult it can be to admit we’re struggling. When we’ve needed grace, we have an opportunity to become more generous in extending it. And when someone has patiently walked alongside us, we begin to recognize how valuable that kind of care really is.
Of course, difficult experiences don’t automatically make us compassionate. We’ve all met people who’ve allowed hardship to make them harder toward others. But surrendered to God, those experiences can develop a tenderness we might not have had otherwise.
Imagine Peter sitting beside that fire, hearing Jesus tell him to care for the most vulnerable members of His flock. Peter knew what it meant to overestimate his strength, to be afraid, and to fail the One he loved. He also knew what it meant to be welcomed back into His presence.
We sometimes assume that the people best equipped to help others grow in faith are the ones who have everything figured out. Knowledge and maturity certainly matter, but there’s something incredibly valuable about someone who knows what it means to depend on God’s grace. Someone who can sit across from a struggling believer and say with complete sincerity, “I understand what it’s like to fall short. And I also know that Jesus is faithful.”
Peter’s failure didn’t make him an expert on caring for people. But his experience of being restored by Jesus could shape the patience and compassion he extended to others.
“Take Care of My Sheep.” —John 21:16
In this second instruction, both the Greek verb and noun change.
Poimainō: to shepherd or tend a flock
Probata: sheep
Before the biblical grammar police come after me, it’s worth acknowledging that these words have overlapping meanings. I KNOW Scripture doesn’t tell us that Jesus was intentionally using different words, but let me live a little. I think the language gives us something interesting to consider.
Because shepherding involves more than feeding.
A shepherd guides the flock toward safe places, protects the sheep from danger, notices when one has wandered away, and pays attention to injuries or weaknesses that might otherwise go unnoticed.
When I think about the spiritual implications of that, I think about the difference between sharing God’s Word with someone and taking an active interest in their well-being.
We can teach someone Bible verses, offer advice, or send an encouraging message. Those are good, life-giving things. But caring for people often requires more.
It means noticing when the friend who usually participates in Bible study has become unusually quiet. Checking on someone who hasn’t been around in a while. Being willing to have difficult conversations when someone we love is heading in a harmful direction. And sometimes simply being present through a season we can’t fix.
That’s one of the challenging parts of caring for people. We like clear solutions. We want to offer helpful Scripture, say a prayer, and see everything work out by next Tuesday. But people are rarely that simple. Spiritual growth takes time, and walking alongside someone doesn’t always come with immediate evidence that our efforts are making a difference.
Fortunately, Peter already had an example of what faithful shepherding looked like.
Earlier in John’s Gospel, Jesus described Himself as the Good Shepherd.
“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”
John 10:11
Peter had spent years watching Jesus show compassion to people others overlooked, patiently teach disciples who repeatedly misunderstood Him, and willingly sacrifice Himself for the people He came to save.
Now Peter was being called to follow that example.
Consider the contrast. On the night of Jesus’s arrest, Peter protected himself by denying his association with Jesus. Now he was being called to care for others in a way that could require costly faithfulness. Later in this very conversation, Jesus tells Peter that his future would involve suffering and death (John 21:18-19).
But there’s another detail in this command that I don’t want us to overlook.
Jesus says, “Take care of My sheep.”
Not Peter’s sheep. Jesus’s sheep.
Peter was being given responsibility, not ownership.
The people he would lead, teach, and care for already belonged to Jesus. Their lives weren’t Peter’s to control. Their spiritual growth wasn’t something he could hang on his wall as his own accomplishment. And their loyalty wasn’t something he had the right to demand.
This matters in ministry, discipleship, Christian leadership, and everyday relationships. We can become so invested in helping someone grow that we start feeling responsible for every decision they make. We want them to take our advice, make the choices we believe are best, and grow at the pace we think they should.
But the people God places in our lives don’t belong to us.
We can encourage, teach, pray, and lovingly correct when necessary. We can take our responsibility seriously while remembering that their relationship with Jesus ultimately belongs to Him.
There’s a freedom in recognizing that. We’re responsible for being faithful with the opportunities God gives us to care for others. We aren’t responsible for controlling every outcome.
And there’s humility in remembering Whose sheep they are. Jesus didn’t tell Peter to build a following around himself. He told him to care for the people who belonged to the Good Shepherd.
“Feed My Sheep.” —John 21:17
Here’s where the progression becomes particularly interesting to me.
Jesus returns to the original verb, boskō, but continues to refer to sheep rather than lambs. We’ve moved from feeding lambs, to the broader responsibility of shepherding sheep, and now back to feeding.
And I think that progression, offers a reminder that spiritual maturity doesn’t eliminate our need for spiritual food.
A lamb needs to be fed in order to grow. But a mature sheep still needs to eat to live.
Seems obvious when we’re talking about actual sheep, huh? Nobody looks at a fully grown sheep and assumes it’s reached a level of maturity where food is no longer necessary. Yet I think we sometimes approach spiritual maturity that way.
We assume the person who has been following Jesus for thirty years has everything figured out. We expect the woman who leads Bible study to always have the answers. We hesitate to sharpen the iron of our church leaders because, well, aren’t they called “leaders” for a reason?
But spiritual maturity doesn’t make us spiritually self-sufficient.
In Hebrews 5:12-14, the writer uses milk and solid food to describe spiritual growth. Paul uses similar language in 1 Corinthians 3:1-2 when addressing the immaturity of the Corinthian church. Both passages recognize that people at different stages of faith have different needs when it comes to spiritual instruction.
Someone beginning to follow Jesus may need help understanding the gospel, learning to read Scripture, or developing a prayer life. Someone who has walked with Him for decades may need deeper teaching, loving correction, encouragement through suffering, or reminders of familiar truths they’re struggling to apply.
The needs look different, but neither person has outgrown the need to be fed.
And there’s a particular danger for those of us who spend a lot of time serving others. We can become so occupied with preparing Bible studies, organizing events, answering questions, and encouraging people that we begin to neglect our own time with God. We can spend hours studying Scripture for the purpose of teaching someone else while barely allowing ourselves to sit with it personally. We can get so focused on making sure everyone else is being fed that we forget we’re sheep, too.
That’s one reason I find this third command so meaningful. After telling Peter to feed the lambs and shepherd the sheep, Jesus brings him right back to feeding.
Even when the responsibilities of shepherding become broad and complicated, nourishing people with God’s truth remains essential. The young need to be fed. The flock needs to be cared for. And those who have grown strong in their faith still need to be fed.
No one graduates beyond their need for Jesus. And that includes the people He calls to lead.
The Question Behind Every Command
Every one of these responsibilities was rooted in the same question: “Do you love Me?”
Before each instruction, Jesus asks Peter about his love. He doesn’t begin by asking how much Scripture Peter knows, how many people he thinks he can lead, or whether he has a plan for growing the early church.
He asks whether Peter loves Him.
And each time Peter affirms his love, Jesus directs his attention toward caring for others.
Throughout His ministry, Jesus connected love for Him with the way we treat people.
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are My disciples, if you love one another.”
John 13:34-35
“‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of Mine, you did for Me.’”
Matthew 25:40
Here, beside a charcoal fire, Jesus gives Peter a practical expression of that love.
Feed those who need nourishment.
Shepherd those who need guidance and protection.
Continue feeding those who are growing and maturing.
Let’s be real. Loving people can be complicated. They have opinions, make mistakes, and misunderstand things. They don’t always take good advice, even when the advice is excellent and Dr. Phil would definitely steal it from us.
And if we’re being fair, we’re those people, too.
Jesus knew Peter’s strengths, weaknesses, history, future. And He still entrusted him with the care of His sheep.
Peter wasn’t being handed a list of responsibilities to complete so he could earn his way back into Jesus’s favor. Jesus had already welcomed him into fellowship. He had already prepared breakfast for him. The commands weren’t a payment plan for Peter’s failure—they were an expression of the purpose Jesus still had for his life.
That doesn’t mean our mistakes are insignificant or that forgiveness erases every consequence. It also doesn’t mean that every person should immediately return to a position of leadership after serious wrongdoing. Scripture takes repentance, character, and accountability seriously. But Peter’s story reminds us that failure doesn’t have to be the final word over our relationship with Jesus.
And years later, we see Peter passing along the responsibility he’d been given.
Still Talking About Sheep
In 1 Peter 5, Peter addresses the elders responsible for leading and caring for the church.
Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care, watching over them—not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be; not pursuing dishonest gain, but eager to serve; not lording it over those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock. And when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away.
1 Peter 5:2-4
The man who was once told to shepherd Jesus’s sheep was now teaching other leaders how to shepherd.
Even the Greek language connects these passages! The verb Peter uses for shepherding in 1 Peter 5:2 comes from the same verb family used in Jesus’s second command in John 21:16!
We can’t know whether Peter was consciously remembering that morning as he wrote this letter, but the similarities are beautiful.
Peter tells the elders to lead willingly, humbly, and by example. Compare that with the Peter we encounter earlier in the gospels: passionate, outspoken, and sometimes spectacularly confident in his own abilities. I have a soft spot for Peter because I think a lot of us can relate to that. He loved Jesus deeply, but he also had an impressive ability to get ahead of himself.
Yet here, years later, we see him instructing others to serve with humility and care.
And notice how he describes the flock?
God’s flock.
Not the elders’ flock. Not Peter’s flock.
God’s. With Jesus as the Chief Shepherd.
Years after Jesus placed the flock into Peter’s care, Peter was still reminding other shepherds Whose sheep they were.
I realize this probably sounds more like an Easter message than something you’d expect to read at this time of year. We’re talking about the crucifixion, the resurrection, and a post-resurrection appearance. It would fit quite nicely into Holy Week.
But I don’t think Jesus consults calendars before deciding it’s a good time to restore someone.
And I’m grateful for that.
Our need for His grace doesn’t follow the church calendar. We don’t only experience failure during Lent, and we don’t only need reminders of the resurrection in April. The truth of Jesus matters every day, including the ordinary ones.
I keep thinking about those two charcoal fires.
At the first, Peter had been afraid to acknowledge that he even knew Jesus. At the second, he sat with the resurrected Savior, who was entrusting him with the care of people who belonged to Him.
And through those three commands, I see a beautiful picture of what it means to love people faithfully.
Feed people who are new to faith, care for those who are struggling, and strengthen believers who’ve been following Jesus for years. All while remembering that we’re sheep ourselves, completely dependent on the care of the Good Shepherd.
I don’t know whether Peter ever stood beside another charcoal fire and remembered that morning on the shore. But I like to think that conversation stayed with him.
The first fire had witnessed his denial. The second had witnessed Jesus reinstating his calling.
And long after the coals had cooled, Peter was still living out the words Jesus spoke beside them.
Feed My lambs. Take care of My sheep. Feed My sheep.
Heavenly Father, thank You for being the Good Shepherd who never stops caring for His sheep. Help us to extend the same grace, patience, and love to others that You so freely give to us. Keep us humble enough to recognize that we need Your care just as much as anyone else. And when our own failures leave us feeling unworthy, remind us that Your grace is greater than our shortcomings. May our love for You be evident in the way we care for Your people. Amen.