It was early morning, and the smell of charcoal and fish filled the air along the shore. Peter had fished all night and caught nothing — again. It felt uncomfortably familiar. He pulled the boat to the beach and saw the man standing there, and something in his chest tightened.

He knew who it was. He had seen the risen Lord before, had touched the wounds in his hands. But this morning felt different. This morning felt like reckoning.

The last time Peter had stood near a charcoal fire, he had denied knowing Jesus. Three times. Three times the question had come, and three times the answer that came out of his mouth was a lie that cost him everything.

Do You Love Me?

Jesus did not begin with a lecture. He began with breakfast. He had already cooked the fish. He had already prepared the meal. He had not waited for Peter to earn his way back to the table. The table was already set.

Then came the question. “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

Three times. Once for each denial. Not as punishment — as restoration. Jesus was not rubbing Peter’s face in his failure. He was giving him three new answers to replace the three old ones. He was dismantling the architecture of Peter’s shame, one question at a time.

Perhaps today Jesus is asking you the same thing. Not because He doesn’t know the answer, but because He wants you to say it — and in saying it, to believe it again.