From the Valley of Denial to the Peak of Restoration
When the Story Comes Full Circle
As we close this series on the Peaks and Valleys of faith, I can’t help but reflect on how much I’ve enjoyed walking with these great men of Scripture—Samuel, David, and now, Peter. Each of their lives paints a vivid picture of how God meets us in both our highest triumphs and our lowest failures.
Last week we left Peter in one of his deepest valleys—the moment of his denial. Three times he insisted, “I don’t know the man.” Three times he turned away from the One he loved most. In that courtyard, standing near the fire of denial, Peter’s heart broke as he locked eyes with Jesus. Then came the horror of the crucifixion—the loss of his best friend—and the confusing emptiness of the next three days.
When Peter heard that the tomb was empty, joy and disbelief wrestled within him. He saw the risen Christ, yes—but he also knew things would never be quite the same. Jesus was alive, yet Peter was haunted by what he had done.
So, Peter did what many of us do when we’re hurt, confused, or uncertain—he went back to what was familiar. “I’m going fishing,” he said. That statement in John 21 isn’t just about fishing; it’s about retreating into something comfortable when life feels disoriented. Peter’s return to the sea represents his search for stability in a season of chaos.
Jesus Meets Us Where We Are
In that moment of discouragement, Jesus didn’t wait for Peter to get it all figured out. He went looking for him.
Early one morning, after an unproductive night of fishing, the disciples heard a voice from the shore:
“Friends, haven’t you any fish?”
They answered, “No.”
Then came the instruction:
“Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.”
It sounds so simple—almost too simple. You can imagine the skepticism: “You don’t think we’ve already tried both sides?” But something about that voice stirred hope. They obeyed, and suddenly their nets were so full they could barely haul them in.
That’s the gospel in miniature: Jesus finds us in our frustration and emptiness, and He speaks a simple word of obedience that opens the way to abundance.
When we’re in the dark, tired, or spiritually drained, He still stands on the shore, calling out to us. Sometimes restoration begins with small acts of obedience—casting the net one more time, praying one more prayer, opening the Bible one more morning. Those small steps tell God, “I know You’re still here. I recognize Your voice.”
As David once wrote:
“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire;
He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand” (Psalm 40:2).
That’s the nature of grace. Jesus doesn’t shout from a distance, “Try harder!” He simply says, “Come closer. Do what I say. I have the answer.”
Grace doesn’t demand perfection—it invites proximity. It doesn’t push us away—it pulls us near. Jesus meets us right where we are, but He loves us too much to leave us there.
Jesus Invites Us Back to the Table
When the disciples finally reached shore, they saw a fire burning with fish and bread laid out. Jesus said,
“Come and have breakfast.”
It’s a beautiful image. Before Jesus ever confronted Peter’s failure, He fed him. Before He asked “Do you love Me?” He said, “Come eat with Me.”
That’s grace in action. Jesus knew Peter was exhausted from a long night of work—and from the weight of his guilt. Yet instead of rebuking him, Jesus offered warmth, food, and fellowship.
John’s Gospel uses a striking detail: the phrase “a fire of burning coals” appears only twice in all of Scripture—both in Peter’s story. The first was in the courtyard of denial. The second was here on the beach of restoration. The first fire was a fire of failure; the second, a fire of forgiveness.
At the first fire, Peter distanced himself from Jesus; at the second, Jesus drew Peter close.
This scene also reminds us of the beauty of communion—the Lord’s Table. Each week, Jesus invites us to sit with Him, to remember His love, and to share in His presence. No matter how far we’ve wandered, He says, “Come eat with Me. You still belong at My table.”
The world doesn’t work that way. In our culture, when people fail, they’re often cast aside—treated like Bruno from the movie Encanto: hidden behind walls, still near the family but not really part of it. Jesus is different. He tears down the wall, opens the door, and says, “Come sit at My table. You are still family.”
That’s the kind of community we are called to be—the kind that meets people where they are, but loves them enough not to let them stay there. The kind that says, “Pull up a chair. There’s room for you here.”
Jesus Restores Us With Purpose
After breakfast, Jesus turned to Peter and asked the question that pierced his heart:
“Simon, son of John, do you love Me more than these?”
“Lord, You know that I love You.”
“Feed My lambs.”
Two more times Jesus asked the question, and two more times Peter answered. Three denials were met with three affirmations. Grace didn’t just forgive Peter—it restored him to purpose.
Peter’s failure hadn’t disqualified him; it had prepared him. The one who once ran away would now lead others to Jesus. The fisherman who went back to the sea would now fish for souls.
When you’re in the valley, it’s easy to believe your purpose is gone—that God is finished with you. But the same Jesus who restored Peter whispers to each of us: “I’m not done with you yet.”
He doesn’t just forgive; He recommissions. He doesn’t just mend the net; He sends us back out to sea.
As long as there’s a mission, there’s a place for you in God’s kingdom.
From the Valley to the Peak
Peter’s journey from denial to restoration is one we all recognize. We’ve all been in that valley—ashamed, uncertain, trying to make sense of what went wrong. But just like Peter, we’re met by a Savior who stands on the shoreline calling our name.
He invites us to breakfast—to fellowship, forgiveness, and a renewed purpose.
So today, if you find yourself weary or wandering, hear His voice again: “Do you love Me?”
Then let your heart answer: “Yes, Lord, You know I love You.”
And hear His reply: “Feed My sheep.”
Come back to the table. Be restored. Step into the mission again.
Because the same Jesus who met Peter in his valley is waiting to meet you in yours—and to lead you, once more, to the peak of restoration.
As we close this series on the Peaks and Valleys of faith, I can’t help but reflect on how much I’ve enjoyed walking with these great men of Scripture—Samuel, David, and now, Peter. Each of their lives paints a vivid picture of how God meets us in both our highest triumphs and our lowest failures.
Last week we left Peter in one of his deepest valleys—the moment of his denial. Three times he insisted, “I don’t know the man.” Three times he turned away from the One he loved most. In that courtyard, standing near the fire of denial, Peter’s heart broke as he locked eyes with Jesus. Then came the horror of the crucifixion—the loss of his best friend—and the confusing emptiness of the next three days.
When Peter heard that the tomb was empty, joy and disbelief wrestled within him. He saw the risen Christ, yes—but he also knew things would never be quite the same. Jesus was alive, yet Peter was haunted by what he had done.
So, Peter did what many of us do when we’re hurt, confused, or uncertain—he went back to what was familiar. “I’m going fishing,” he said. That statement in John 21 isn’t just about fishing; it’s about retreating into something comfortable when life feels disoriented. Peter’s return to the sea represents his search for stability in a season of chaos.
Jesus Meets Us Where We Are
In that moment of discouragement, Jesus didn’t wait for Peter to get it all figured out. He went looking for him.
Early one morning, after an unproductive night of fishing, the disciples heard a voice from the shore:
“Friends, haven’t you any fish?”
They answered, “No.”
Then came the instruction:
“Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.”
It sounds so simple—almost too simple. You can imagine the skepticism: “You don’t think we’ve already tried both sides?” But something about that voice stirred hope. They obeyed, and suddenly their nets were so full they could barely haul them in.
That’s the gospel in miniature: Jesus finds us in our frustration and emptiness, and He speaks a simple word of obedience that opens the way to abundance.
When we’re in the dark, tired, or spiritually drained, He still stands on the shore, calling out to us. Sometimes restoration begins with small acts of obedience—casting the net one more time, praying one more prayer, opening the Bible one more morning. Those small steps tell God, “I know You’re still here. I recognize Your voice.”
As David once wrote:
“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire;
He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand” (Psalm 40:2).
That’s the nature of grace. Jesus doesn’t shout from a distance, “Try harder!” He simply says, “Come closer. Do what I say. I have the answer.”
Grace doesn’t demand perfection—it invites proximity. It doesn’t push us away—it pulls us near. Jesus meets us right where we are, but He loves us too much to leave us there.
Jesus Invites Us Back to the Table
When the disciples finally reached shore, they saw a fire burning with fish and bread laid out. Jesus said,
“Come and have breakfast.”
It’s a beautiful image. Before Jesus ever confronted Peter’s failure, He fed him. Before He asked “Do you love Me?” He said, “Come eat with Me.”
That’s grace in action. Jesus knew Peter was exhausted from a long night of work—and from the weight of his guilt. Yet instead of rebuking him, Jesus offered warmth, food, and fellowship.
John’s Gospel uses a striking detail: the phrase “a fire of burning coals” appears only twice in all of Scripture—both in Peter’s story. The first was in the courtyard of denial. The second was here on the beach of restoration. The first fire was a fire of failure; the second, a fire of forgiveness.
At the first fire, Peter distanced himself from Jesus; at the second, Jesus drew Peter close.
This scene also reminds us of the beauty of communion—the Lord’s Table. Each week, Jesus invites us to sit with Him, to remember His love, and to share in His presence. No matter how far we’ve wandered, He says, “Come eat with Me. You still belong at My table.”
The world doesn’t work that way. In our culture, when people fail, they’re often cast aside—treated like Bruno from the movie Encanto: hidden behind walls, still near the family but not really part of it. Jesus is different. He tears down the wall, opens the door, and says, “Come sit at My table. You are still family.”
That’s the kind of community we are called to be—the kind that meets people where they are, but loves them enough not to let them stay there. The kind that says, “Pull up a chair. There’s room for you here.”
Jesus Restores Us With Purpose
After breakfast, Jesus turned to Peter and asked the question that pierced his heart:
“Simon, son of John, do you love Me more than these?”
“Lord, You know that I love You.”
“Feed My lambs.”
Two more times Jesus asked the question, and two more times Peter answered. Three denials were met with three affirmations. Grace didn’t just forgive Peter—it restored him to purpose.
Peter’s failure hadn’t disqualified him; it had prepared him. The one who once ran away would now lead others to Jesus. The fisherman who went back to the sea would now fish for souls.
When you’re in the valley, it’s easy to believe your purpose is gone—that God is finished with you. But the same Jesus who restored Peter whispers to each of us: “I’m not done with you yet.”
He doesn’t just forgive; He recommissions. He doesn’t just mend the net; He sends us back out to sea.
As long as there’s a mission, there’s a place for you in God’s kingdom.
From the Valley to the Peak
Peter’s journey from denial to restoration is one we all recognize. We’ve all been in that valley—ashamed, uncertain, trying to make sense of what went wrong. But just like Peter, we’re met by a Savior who stands on the shoreline calling our name.
He invites us to breakfast—to fellowship, forgiveness, and a renewed purpose.
So today, if you find yourself weary or wandering, hear His voice again: “Do you love Me?”
Then let your heart answer: “Yes, Lord, You know I love You.”
And hear His reply: “Feed My sheep.”
Come back to the table. Be restored. Step into the mission again.
Because the same Jesus who met Peter in his valley is waiting to meet you in yours—and to lead you, once more, to the peak of restoration.
Posted in Sermons
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