Failures guide. Blunders cry out information. —William Stafford

Crowing roosters never left the region. Each morning the rest of his life, Peter awoke from his sleep to a squawking alarm.

Paul would experience his own devilish messenger sent to thorn-taunt him. But unlike Paul’s tormentor, Peter’s barn-stoop condemners had flesh and blood. The winged creatures didn’t know that their most instinctive way to help the world could ritually sabotage a once-guilty man.

Like many of us, the apostle Peter was acquainted with failures and their relentless reminders. How did Peter come to believe this grace-truth that failure isn’t final, that a failed Christian isn’t a finished Christian?

Learning His Love Again

This question knocks at my door each night as I speak reminding words amid forehead kisses to my 3-year-old.

“You are a loved boy,” I say.

“Yes!” he says with assurance. “I am a loved boy!”

I marvel at his confident acceptance of my love. And yet, why do I marvel? If the little one said to me, “No, Daddy, I am not loved,” my heart would enlarge to defend him from that wretched lie. If he were to feel it too proud to agree that he is loved by me, my heart would enlarge to dissuade him from this thieving view of humility that steals God-given joy from us both.

Why, then, in the presence of my heavenly Father’s love, do I find it so difficult to say, “Yes! I am a loved person.” I think Peter understands.

Failure pokes the tender ribs of memory. Makes us wince. Too many storm-sinking, “you’ll never wash my feet” miscalculations in our faith. Too many “though everyone else forsakes you, I never will” debacles of our pride. Too many “you’ll never go to the cross,” “get behind me, Satan” moments to count. Too many Gethsemane-sword, blood-cut misapplications of zeal. Too many “I tell you I don’t know the man” betrayals and fears. And sometimes the fault isn’t ours but the bruise still swells (Mark 10:35–41).

How then did failed Peter learn that he was a loved man writing to a beloved people (1 Peter 2:11; 4:12)? John tells part of the answer. While Peter huddled near home, throwing his grief like a net into the sea, Jesus “revealed himself in this way” (John 21:1).

How Jesus Reveals Himself

Jesus is like a host who comes in the aftermath of failure with a “This Is Your Life” approach. By the end, Jesus will thread Peter’s life together by saying, “When you were young” and “when you are old” (John 21:18). But here at the beginning, in this way, what Jesus wants Peter to see is Jesus. “Jesus revealed himself again . . . and he revealed himself” (John 21:1). John says it twice in one verse.

“Unknown is enough when on the margins of the world with Jesus.”

What Peter most needs within the bog of his failure isn’t to strain forward to seize the narrative, or to protect his image, or to preserve the brand of the original disciples, or to get back his old platform. Unknown is enough when on the margins of the world with Jesus. This delightful sufficiency signals the first lesson Peter, and any of us who’ve failed, must relearn.

He remembers how you began with him.

This sea of Jesus’s revealing is full of memory for Peter. The smell of boats and fish. The presence of home feels safer here, far from the bitter weeping of Jerusalem.

Where did you grow up? Where in this world do you feel most at home? What might it mean for you that, when you think of those places amid failure, Jesus intends you not to escape them but to remember them again, and this time to see more of him there than you did before?

But wait. Jesus then enacts a bizarre startlement.

Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. (John 21:3)

Haven’t we lived this scene already (Luke 5:1–11)? Yet this is no déjà vu experience. The one who holds all things together orders providence right where the waves lap over the sand-squished toes of Peter and the others, right where they stand.

Do you remember when you and Jesus first met? Why might Jesus bring you that flashlight memory amid the power outage of your failure?

He remembers the scenes of your life with him.

Slowly, Peter recognizes that Jesus is the one behind these ways, and he “threw himself into the sea” (John 21:7). With John’s word choice, we can barely forget an earlier Peter, the boat, a water-walk (Matthew 14:22–36). Do you remember acts of faith that caused you to step out toward Jesus, when you were in over your head and he rescued you?

Then Jesus breaks bread with fish (John 21:9). How could Peter and the others look at Jesus breaking bread without remembering the earlier wonders (John 6:1–14; Luke 24:35)? Do you remember such moments of startling wonder, years ago, with Jesus?

The charcoal fire burns more certain. It waits for Peter as he high-knee splashes toward Jesus (John 21:9). The Greek word for charcoal fire occurs in only one other place (John 18:18), when Peter denied Jesus by that charcoal fire.

Someone else lit the original charcoal fire of betrayal when Jesus and Peter met anguished eyes (Luke 22:61). But this fire, Jesus prepared. Jesus’s and Peter’s eyes must meet again.

What if, after these grace-reminders of our beginnings and life memories with Jesus, the only way to go forward is to face Jesus again by the charcoal fire? Tempted to recover without this step, what we most want is the denial or removal of the rooster and the charcoal blaze. But what if what we most need is the grace-learned strength to see more of Jesus than we do of them, like one who learns to regard the moon more than the shadows lurking beneath its glow?

What if Jesus reveals himself in this way?

He remembers your name.

Now Jesus does something so subtle we often overlook it. Jesus calls Peter by his birth name. “Simon, son of John” (John 21:15).

This must have startled Peter. How long had it been since Peter heard “Simon, son of John” on Jesus’s lips? Two or three years?

I’m “Zack, son of Vern and Jan.” What’s your name — the name you had when you were a child and helpless in the world? What is your experience with your family, for better and worse?

Why do we in our failures need to come to terms with our pre-ministry name and see it in relation to Jesus again?

Love is his question for you.

With your life remembered and your name spoken, now comes the one question three times (John 21:15–17).

Not, “Peter, do you believe me? Will you go all out for the gospel for me?” Not, “Peter, will you leverage a platform for me? Or promise never to fail me again?” Not, “Peter, will you get to work, take back the ministry you once had, and prove your detractors wrong?” But, “Peter, do you love me?”

In this way, Jesus reveals himself.

Do you notice the hurt, tethered to love, that Jesus lets us feel (John 21:17)? After all, disordered love was the untended leak that ultimately sank our boat.

There is no “feed my sheep” without first coming to terms with where you are from, how you and Jesus met, the wonder and the needed rescues of his being with you, what your name is, the charcoal-fire sins, and the condition of love in your soul. Search committees, media opportunists, and relatives may not approach you in this way. But Jesus does.

Do you find Jesus more lovely and preferable to anything else you need or want? Peter says yes and means it.

A new call can’t save us.

Yet, a fly buzzes around Peter’s head and distracts him. As it turns out, restoring Peter from failure doesn’t remove Peter’s ability to fail (see also Galatians 2:11–14).

“But what about John?” Peter asks (John 21:20–23). Peter is like a dog easily unhinged into chase by a squirrel. Though in the loving presence of your Master, is there someone you regularly snap your collar to chase?

“If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you?” Jesus says (John 21:22).

“As it turns out, restoring Peter from failure doesn’t remove Peter’s ability to fail.”

At that, Jesus takes Peter back to basics. “Follow me” (John 21:22). Jesus said this to Peter years prior, but the grace-need Peter had then hasn’t subsided.

Even forgiven people can repeat what breaks them. Roosters are rarely one-morning creatures. So, Jesus repeats his call with pointed exclamation. “You follow me!”

How did failed Peter learn that he was a loved person writing to a beloved people?

In this way.

Redeemed Voices of the Failed

Humble yourselves. . . . Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him . . . (1 Peter 5:6, 8–9)

Words like these aren’t spoken from new-shoe theologians, barely worn God-talkers who walk with no scuff and teach with no gravel scrapes on their soles. Peter speaks as one thrashed firsthand by the roaring, clawed devil.

Unlike some who’ve failed, Peter owned what he did. He bitter-wept for the cuss he became and caused. We need such redeemed voices of the failed. These broken sages know of Jesus by creed, yes, but also by cries.

So, when an ant colony of condemnation breaks open into a torrent of flash-flood crawlers creeping all over you, you can holler and jump, flick and cuss, run and scratch, but only Jesus knows the way to relieve you.

When you’ve mud-stepped into the muck, you are never minefield abandoned. Stop where you are. Let go of trying to tell us it’s not that bad. There is One among the mines who knows how to guide you home, wash you clean, make you safe.

How can the failed like Peter overcome the condemning crow?

In this way.

Do you want to grow as a man of God?

Maybe you’re a new believer. Your character drastically differs from just a couple years ago, but you know you have a long way to go. Or maybe you’ve been a believer for a long time, but you’ve sensed yourself spiritually stagnating. You’d be hard pressed to point out a way you’ve made evident spiritual progress in the last year.

If either of those profiles fit you, this article, and its two goals, are for you. The first is to give you a new ambition, namely, becoming a man of God. The second is to give you some directions for the journey.

The “man” in “man of God” is deliberate; I’m speaking particularly to men. Much of what I’ll say also applies to women, but the next-to-last section zeroes in on a uniquely male calling.

First, here’s the new ambition. I want you, from now till the day you die, to make it your ambition to become a man of God. And I want that for you because God does. As Paul writes to Timothy, “Have nothing to do with irreverent, silly myths. Rather train yourself for godliness;
for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come” (1 Timothy 4:7–8).

Godliness is “of value in every way.” It is more valuable than physical strength or financial success. It is worth more than the thickest resume or the most coveted property. Godliness will, in the long run, make you happier than the satisfaction of any earthly desire.

So how can you get it? Here are six pieces of counsel.

Mind the Gap

First, mind the gap — that is, the gap between your character and God’s. And “gap” doesn’t even begin to cover it. More like “infinite chasm.” But God commands you to cross it: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy” (Leviticus 19:2; cf. 1 Peter 1:15–16).

Learn to see and evaluate your character in light of God’s. Hold Scripture before your eyes as a mirror to reveal what’s lacking in you but present in him, and what’s present in you but lacking in him. “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). What darkness is present in you? What light is missing? If you want specific benchmarks to measure yourself against, study the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–7), the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22–23), and the qualifications for elders (1 Timothy 3:1–7; Titus 1:5–9).

One good way to become more mindful of this gap is to seek out and study godly men. Who do you know who radiates more of God’s holiness and joy and love than you do? Get to know him. Get close to him. Find out how he has made the progress he has, and do what he does (more on models below). The gap between your character and his can help you see the infinitely greater gap between your character and God’s. But not only that: learning how a more godly man got more godly can power-assist your progress in godliness.

Mine New Motives

Real change comes from the heart. This requires (though is by no means limited to) a new set of motives for you to mine. In order to make any lasting progress in godliness, your chief motive must be to glorify God: “whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). Train your heart to love God’s glory more than your own, to love praising God more than receiving praise. Make it your ambition to please God in all you do (2 Corinthians 5:9).

In our theme verse, Paul promises that godliness is of value in every way. What is the value-added of godliness? What should motivate you to pursue it? Godliness gives you power greater than any physical prowess, technological reach, or military strength: “Whoever is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city” (Proverbs 16:32). Godliness gives you a freedom that runs deeper than any other: freedom from tyranny of self and slavery to sin. As Jesus promises, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31–32). Godliness gives you contentment, which is greater gain than any stockpile of earthly treasure. “Godliness with contentment is great gain, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world” (1 Timothy 6:6–7).

Do you want power or freedom or lasting, secure gain? You’ll find the best, and the only reliable, form of all of those goods in godliness. So, work to continually recalibrate your motives.

Form Transforming Habits

In order to do this, you need to form transforming habits, especially Scripture study, meditation, and prayer in private and with others. Donald Whitney’s book Spiritual Disciplines for the Christian Life is a practical, challenging guide to these, as is David Mathis’s Habits of Grace.

If you’re not in the habit of regularly communing with Jesus through time in his word and prayer, here’s how I’d encourage you to start. Whatever your morning schedule looks like, get up a little earlier, even just twenty or thirty minutes. Read something in Scripture — could be a Psalm or a chapter of Proverbs, could be the passage your pastor is going to preach the next Sunday — and find something to turn into prayer.

What in the passage can you praise God for? What sins in your life does the passage reveal? What reason does the passage give you to thank God? What does it teach you to ask God for? Turn Scripture reading into prayer and even a short time with Christ can become a regularly refueling engine of daily transformation into his character.

Get New Models

Everyone has models. Even if you don’t consciously admit it, styling yourself as an intrepid individualist, chances are there are men you strive to be like. Whether in matters personal or professional, superficial or substantive, there are men you know, or at least know of, that you want to be like. And if you haven’t been self-consciously striving for godliness for the past several years, then chances are, you need new models.

“Find the godliest men you can, get as close to them as you can, and learn as much from them as you can.”

So find the godliest men you can, get as close to them as you can, and learn as much from them as you can. That’s what the apostle Paul told the whole Philippian church to do: “Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us” (Philippians 3:17). And again, “What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you” (Philippians 4:9).

Find Ways to Father

One nearly universal definition of manhood is to produce more than you consume (see, for instance Roy Baumeister, Is There Anything Good About Men?, 195). It’s easy to see how that works in an economic, material sense: to provide for a family, you need to earn more than you use. You must be a generator of surpluses. And working hard so as to provide for others is a basic biblical imperative that especially lands on men’s shoulders (1 Timothy 5:8).

But this shorthand definition of manhood — that you produce more than you consume — doesn’t just apply to bringing home bacon. It has deep spiritual relevance as well. We all have burdens, and we need help bearing them (Galatians 6:2). We all have limited wisdom, and so we all need counselors (Proverbs 24:6). But a spiritually productive man is one who is a net burden-bearer, and a net wisdom-dispenser, a net exporter to others of spiritual good and gain. So strive to be a spiritual producer. Strive to have your desires so under control, your heart so aligned with God’s will, and your mind so transformed by his word, that you store up a surplus of spiritual help that you can regularly share out with others.

“Fatherhood, both natural and spiritual, is the distinctive shape of masculine maturity.”

Another way to say this is, find ways to father. If you’re the father of children, train them in all God’s ways (Ephesians 6:4). If you’re unmarried and desire to be married, pursue the kind of holiness, competence, leadership ability, and maturity that will make you not only attractive husband material but ready and eager to be a father. Fatherhood, both natural and spiritual, is the distinctive shape of masculine maturity. A father provides and protects. What kind of man do you need to become in order to faithfully provide for and protect others in both material and spiritual ways?

Make Membership Matter

Finally, make membership matter — meaning church membership. The New Testament assumes that all Christians will belong to local gatherings of Christians that assemble regularly and are mutually, self-consciously committed to each other (for example, 1 Corinthians 5:1–13). I’m putting this last, but in some ways it really goes first.

Church membership is the crucial, formative context for these other five items that have come before. Finding, committing to, and throwing yourself into a gospel-preaching church is the best way to regularly expose yourself to the character of God, reminders of gospel motives for godliness, help in forming spiritually fruitful habits, godly models to follow, and opportunities to bear others’ burdens and build them up in love.

These six points are just a start, hopefully a jump-start, for the long, often difficult journey of growing more godly. But the good news about church membership is that, when you regularly gather with a body of believers who are committed to Christ and each other, every single Sunday is a fresh start. And fellowship with other godly men who are striving in the same direction can continually refresh your heart in your quest to be more like Christ.

Part 3 Episode 212 Genuine worship treasures God above all things and fuels God-centered passion in people. What if our worship doesn’t look or feel like that? In this episode of Light + Truth, John Piper addresses this still relevant question from Malachi 1:6–14.