The Dialogue of Love
Three questions. Three responses. Three commands. Beneath this seemingly straightforward exchange lies a profound theological tension — one that interrogates our assumptions about grace, love, and what it means to be redeemed.
This encounter between Jesus and Peter is often read as a moment of restoration. And it is. But it is not a restoration that smooths over failure; rather, it integrates that failure into the calling itself. Peter, who had denied Christ publicly and painfully, is not merely forgiven — he is entrusted, commissioned. This is not cheap grace. It is costly love.
💬 A Conversation Between Failure and Grace: The Greek Words That Confront Us
🔹 First Question
Jesus: "Simōn Iōannou, agapas me pleion toutōn?"
(Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?)
➤ Agapas — from agapaō: a divine, sacrificial love — the love of God that gives without counting the cost.
Peter responds: "Nai, Kyrie, sy oidas hoti philō se."
(Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.)
➤ Philō — from phileō: the love of friendship, loyalty, and deep affection — sincere, but human and limited.
Already, a philosophical unease emerges. Christ inquires about agapē — the self-emptying love of the cross. Peter can only respond with philia — affectionate but fragile. Is this honesty or hesitation? Peter answers truthfully, but his love has not yet been purified by suffering.
🔹 Second Question
Jesus asks again: "Simōn Iōannou, agapas me?"
(Simon, son of John, do you love me?)
Jesus remains with agapas. The repetition is deliberate — a patient but piercing probe into the depths of Peter’s heart. Grace does not stop at acceptance. It calls us into transformation. Jesus is not simply seeking affection; he is asking whether Peter can bear the burden of agapē.
Peter repeats: "Kyrie, sy oidas hoti philō se."
(Lord, you know that I love you.)
Again, philia. Peter does not feign what he cannot give. But his answer raises uncomfortable questions for us:
What kind of love does Christ demand? Can we truly serve Him if we stay within the safe boundaries of human affection?
🔹 Third Question: A Divine Descent
Jesus shifts: "Simōn Iōannou, phileis me?"
(Simon, son of John, do you love me?)
This change — from agapas to phileis — is stunning. Christ meets Peter on Peter’s terms. He descends to the level of human frailty. Here lies the paradox of grace: it meets us where we are, but never intends to leave us there.
Peter answers: "Kyrie, sy panta oidas; sy ginōskeis hoti philō se."
(Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.)
Peter appeals not to his emotion but to Christ’s omniscience. This is not resignation — it is surrender. He offers the love he has, trusting that even imperfect love can become the vessel of a divine calling.
🐑 Three Restorations for Three Denials
Jesus does not merely forgive Peter; He entrusts him:
"Boske ta arnia mou." (Feed my lambs.)
"Poimaine ta probata mou." (Tend my sheep.)
"Boske ta probata mou." (Feed my sheep.)
These imperatives are not symbolic only. They signal vocation — the call to shepherd, to guide, to suffer for others. Love is not proven by words but by acts of service.
But what does it mean to "feed" the sheep? It is more than offering comfort or preserving order. It is to nourish souls, to lead people into the mystery of divine love.
🌾 Feeding the Flock: A Prophetic Challenge
Here the critique begins — not of Peter, but of us, and of the Church:
Has the Church retained this radical commission? Or have we, too, replaced agapē with philia? Have we become curators of tradition rather than agents of transformation?
To "feed" the flock means to stand with the broken, to speak truth in love, to walk with the marginalized. But too often, the Church has sought institutional preservation over spiritual depth.
Do we still believe in the cost of discipleship? Or have we sanitized the Gospel into a system of manageable ethics and respectable comfort?
🙌 What This Means for Us
💔 Jesus redeems, not by erasing, but by reweaving. Peter’s denial becomes the very ground upon which his mission is built. Can our failures become foundations for grace?
🕊️ Jesus descends to our level. He does not demand perfect agapē but honors honest philia. Yet in that acceptance lies a summons: we are not meant to remain there.
💖 Love is the true mark of discipleship. Not doctrine, not prestige, but love — love that gives, serves, and suffers. What kind of love lives in our communities today?
👣 Love demands action. "Feed my sheep" is not metaphor alone. It is mission. It is the essence of ministry. Are we willing to love beyond comfort?
✝️ Conclusion: A Call to Radical Love
Christ still asks: "Do you love me?"
Perhaps your love is hesitant, fractured, imperfect. Yet Jesus does not turn away. He asks again, and again — not to shame you, but to call you deeper.
Grace is not the absence of failure but the place where love takes root through it.
🙏 Prayer
Lord Jesus,
You see the love we bring — fractured, hesitant, human.
And still You ask, "Do you love me?"
Give us the courage to respond honestly,
the humility to be transformed,
and the strength to love — not with ease,
but with the costly, patient love You have shown us.
Amen.
