Read

John 21:9–17 “When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread… Jesus said to them, ‘Come and have breakfast.’ … When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?’ ‘Yes, Lord,’ he said, ‘you know that I love you.’ Jesus said, ‘Feed my lambs.’ … The third time he said to him, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time… He said, ‘Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said, ‘Feed my sheep.’”

Think

Failure has a smell. It smells like smoke—burned bridges, burned-out hope, burned-up plans. Peter knew that smell. The last time he stood by a fire, he denied knowing Jesus three times. That moment haunted him. It was the lowest point in his story.

And then came the resurrection. Jesus was alive! The tomb was empty! But Peter… was still heavy with regret.

That’s the thing about grace. Even when we believe it’s real, we’re not always sure it’s for us. Especially after we mess up.

So what does Jesus do?

He cooks breakfast.

Seriously—John 21 says that when Peter and the others came in from fishing, they found Jesus standing on the shore, charcoal fire crackling, fish and bread already laid out. No lecture. No shame-fest. Just “Come and eat.”

This is the heart of Jesus: He restores us in the very place we fell.

It wasn’t a coincidence that Jesus built a fire. That same Greek word for charcoal fire—anthrakia—only appears one other time in Scripture: in the courtyard where Peter denied Him. Jesus recreated the setting so he could redeem the memory. He doesn’t avoid our pain. He meets us in it and rewrites the story.

After breakfast, Jesus asks Peter three questions. Not about performance. Not about mistakes. Just: “Do you love me?”

Three denials. Three affirmations. And not once does Jesus say, “I told you so.”

Instead, He says: “Feed my sheep.” In other words, “You’re still called. You’re still mine. I still want you.”

Peter’s failure didn’t disqualify him. It prepared him. The pain softened him. The restoration empowered him. And just weeks later, Peter would preach the sermon that launched the Church (Acts 2). That’s what Jesus does—he turns broken people into bold witnesses.

Maybe you’re living with the smoke of some past regret. A conversation you wish you could undo. A habit that got out of control. A time when fear won out over faith. And maybe you’re wondering, “Does God still want me?”

Friend, Jesus is already on the shore. He’s got breakfast on the fire. And he’s not bringing up your failure to shame you—he’s inviting you into freedom. He doesn’t want to rehash your sin. He wants to remind you of your love.

The table is set. The fire is lit. All you have to do is come.

Apply

Write down one area in your life where you feel like you’ve “blown it.” Now, imagine Jesus sitting across from you—no condemnation, just compassion. What might he say to you?

Take a few minutes to thank him for still calling you, still using you, still loving you. Consider sharing your story with someone who needs to know that failure isn’t final.

Pray

Jesus, thank you for cooking breakfast for broken people like me. For meeting me in the ashes of regret and calling me into something new. You know every moment I’ve messed up—and you still say, “Follow Me.” Teach me to receive that kind of grace. To live like I’m loved. To lead like I’ve been restored. In Jesus’ name. Amen.