"But Have Not Love..."

I'm not often able to sit in a church service on Sundays (more on that later), but I was able to do so a couple of weeks ago.

My pastor spoke on two kinds of love, specifically mentioned at the end of the Gospel of John. If you recall, the scene opens with the newly-risen Jesus and the shame-faced Peter sitting on the beach. The cool morning air combines with the crisp breeze, blowing in off the sea. A bystander wouldn't be able to tell if Peter was shaking because of the chill or his broken heart. The night has been long and Peter has spent much of the early morning in a boat, performing a menial task and failing even at that attempt. I can feel the weight on his shoulders as he lambasts himself for failing his closest friend, and now, for not being able to provide for himself at his old job. He can't make eye-contact with this Man he once promised to die for.

My pastor says the Hellenic Greek tells the story like this (a bit paraphrased, of course):

"Peter, do you agape Me?"
"You know I phileo you, Lord."
"Peter, do you agape Me?"
"Yes Lord, you know I phileo you."
"Peter, do you phileo me?"
(le sigh) "You know I phileo you."

The pastor goes on to say that our Lord meets us where we are. Peter would've been the first to say, in pride and self-righteousness, "Of course I agape you!" before his denial of his dear Friend (how often I exclaim the same). Pride always betrays. And that old Peter was dead. This new Peter sat cross-legged like a kid, fully aware of his inability to change (he was back to fishing for "Pete's" sake!), discouraged and ashamed and defensive and hurt and despairing. Broken. Just altogether broken. He knew he didn't agape this Man who sat before him, preparing the fish he has just caught (caught, only at Jesus' suggestion). He knew, at best, he simply phileo-ed Him and I'm sure he wondered  if it was even that - if it was any sort of brotherly love at all. Because even at that point of admission, Jesus questioned that vestige of affection and made him hear his own crackling voice articulate the words, that I'm sure, he wondered would hold up in the face of even the slightest persecution.

I'm much like Peter. Jesus is still the same.