Day 96

Joshua 3–4 | John 21

It’s one of the most human moments in Scripture.

Not a miracle. Not a parable. Not a sermon.

Just breakfast.

The sun is rising over the Sea of Galilee. Peter and some of the others have been fishing all night, probably trying to escape the confusion and guilt that’s been gnawing at them.

And suddenly, there He is.

The risen Jesus. Standing on the shore. Calling out like a friend:

“Children, do you have any fish?” (John 21:5)

They don’t recognize Him at first. They just hear a stranger’s voice giving fishing advice. “Cast the net on the right side of the boat…”

And then—the nets are bursting. The boats are lurching. And John whispers to Peter, “It is the Lord!”

A Gentle Restoration

What I love most about this scene is its complete ordinariness.

Jesus could have appeared to them in dazzling light or thunderous proclamation. He could have called them to account right there on the water—confronting Peter about his denial, reminding them of their failures.

But instead, He makes breakfast.

“Come and have breakfast.” (John 21:12)

No accusations. No list of wrongs. Just an invitation.

When they get to shore, the fire is already going. Fish and bread are already cooking.

The same hands that were pierced just days earlier are now breaking bread.

The same voice that cried out in agony now gently calls them to eat.

It’s not the restoration I would expect.

It’s better.

It’s kindness.

It’s grace.

It’s the Savior who knows our weakness and meets us in it—not with condemnation, but with provision.

Breakfast After Betrayal

Think about this scene through the lens from which Peter saw it. He must have been dreading this moment.

He had sworn he’d never deny Jesus. He had insisted he would die for Him.

But when it mattered most, he cowered. He cursed. He denied knowing his Lord.

Not once.

Three times.

And now here he is, standing in the presence of the One he failed.

I can almost feel Peter’s tension—because I’ve been there.

My nature is to hold a grudge. To be right. To make sure the last word is mine. To lie in wait, rehearsing the perfect comeback—just waiting for the right moment to lose it on the other guy.

And as a result, I’ve wronged people in my life. Friends. Family. Colleagues. Talacey. Sophia. Jason. Bob.

I’ve messed up and I know it.

And when it’s over—when the dust has settled and I’ve had time to sit in my own shame—then comes the next encounter.

And it’s awful.

Because I know what I’ve done. And they know it too.

And as I approach them, a million questions flood my mind: Do I apologize right away? Do I wait for them to bring it up? Do I act like nothing happened? Will they bring it up first—or have they already forgiven me?

And the whole time, I just want to get it over with. To move past the guilt and the awkwardness.

I imagine Peter’s mind was racing in just the same way. The thoughts swirling. The guilt rising. Bracing himself for the inevitable moment when Jesus would look him in the eyes.

But Jesus doesn’t make it awkward.

He doesn’t leave Peter to flounder.

He just says, “Come and have breakfast.”

It’s pure grace.

Jesus doesn’t start with confrontation—He starts with invitation.

From Failure to Friendship

After breakfast, Jesus does address the elephant on the beach.

He asks Peter three times: “Do you love Me?” (John 21:15–17)

One question for each denial.

It’s not just restoration—it’s recommissioning.

Jesus doesn’t just forgive Peter—He calls him to shepherd His flock.

He doesn’t just erase the failure—He redeems it.

The same is true for me. For you.

Jesus doesn’t just put up with us after we fail. He restores. He reinstates.

He reminds us that our worth isn’t in our performance, but in His grace.

A Savior Who Invites

The beauty of this story?

Jesus isn’t just the risen King. He’s the faithful friend.

The one who doesn’t discard us when we mess up.

The one who prepares a meal instead of a lecture.

The one who calls us back—gently, intentionally, personally.

And today, I need that reminder.

When I’ve failed—He doesn’t turn away. When I’m weary—He doesn’t pile on guilt. When I’m hesitant to face Him—He doesn’t make me grovel.

When I’m unsure how to start again—He says, “Come and have breakfast.”

What Grace Looks Like

As I think about this scene, I’m humbled by how I tend to respond to my own failures.

I rehearse them. I beat myself up. I wonder if God is disappointed in me.

But today, Jesus reminds me of the truth:

His first response isn’t condemnation. It’s invitation.

His posture isn’t arms crossed. It’s arms open.

His goal isn’t to make me grovel—it’s to welcome me back.

Just like Peter.

Just like the weary disciples who didn’t catch a thing on their own.

Just like every one of us who needs a Savior who will meet us on the shore of our failures and serve us breakfast.

⸻

Lord, thank You for meeting me in my weakness. For welcoming me back when I’ve wandered. For inviting me to eat when I feel unworthy. Help me to come when You call, to receive Your grace without hesitation, and to walk in the restored purpose You offer. Amen.