Not a Reset Button
Not a Reset Button
The sun was barely up.
The water was still.
Peter stood on the shore with the others, tired in the bones.
Not long ago, he had been certain of himself. Loud. Ready.
“I’ll die with You,” he said.
But then came the night he still couldn’t shake.
A courtyard.
A charcoal fire.
A girl’s voice asking a question that suddenly felt dangerous to answer.
And Peter did the thing he swore he never would.
Three times.
“The servant girl saw him as he sat by the fire and looked intently at him and said, ‘This man was also with him.’ But he denied him…”
“And after an interval of about an hour still another insisted, saying, ‘Certainly this man also was with him…’ But Peter said, ‘Man, I do not know what you are talking about.’ And immediately, while he was still speaking, the rooster crowed.”
“And the Lord turned and looked at Peter.”
After that, life kept moving—but Peter didn’t feel like he was moving forward.
So he went back to fishing.
Not because he loved it… but because it didn’t ask him any questions.
Then, a voice from the shore.
A familiar instruction.
A net suddenly heavy with fish.
When they reached land, Jesus already had a fire burning.
Not a throne.
Not a lecture.
A charcoal fire.
The same kind of fire Peter had stood beside when everything fell apart.
Jesus didn’t pretend it never happened.
He didn’t shame him either.
He fed him first.
“Come and eat.”
Only after breakfast—only after warmth and food—did Jesus ask the question.
Not once.
Three times.
“When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ He said to him, ‘Feed my lambs.’”
“He said to him a second time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ He said to him, ‘Tend my sheep.’”
“He said to him the third time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me?’ Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ and he said to him, ‘Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my sheep.’”
Peter didn’t get a reset button.
He got restoration.
A lot of us treat the new year like a reset button.
As if God is more willing on January 1 than He was yesterday.
But Jesus met Peter on an ordinary morning—with yesterday still clinging to him.
And maybe that’s what you need to hear.
God doesn’t wait for you to become impressive.
He comes close at the place you failed.
He builds a fire there.
And He feeds you there.
Maybe you’re walking into this year carrying something you hoped would be gone by now.
A regret.
A pattern.
A quiet disappointment in yourself.
And underneath it all, a fear you barely let yourself name:
“Maybe I’ve messed this up too many times.”
Peter didn’t step back into life because he proved his strength.
He stepped back in because Jesus restored his love.
Religion says, “New year, new you—don’t mess this up.”
Jesus says, “Come and eat.”
Then, gently:
“Do you love Me?”
Not, “Did you meet your goals?”
Not, “Did you fix everything?”
Just… “Do you love Me?”
And if you do—even with trembling—
He doesn’t discard you.
He gives you your next faithful step.
This year doesn’t begin with your promises.
It begins with His invitation:
Come and eat… and follow Me.
Jesus,
I bring You what I’m carrying into this new year—
the hopes, the fear, the unfinished places.
Meet me at my charcoal fire.
Feed me where I feel weak.
Restore my love where shame has tried to hollow me out.
I don’t want to perform for You.
I want to follow You.
Give me light for the next step.
Amen.
Before you scroll—pause for a moment.
Whisper, “Jesus, I love You.”
Then ask, “What’s my next step?”
And if someone you love is walking into this year heavy…
send this to them and say, “No shame. Just come and eat.”
Oh I will have to read that again don’t remember a lot of that 😁