Two cowboys were out riding the range one day, near a herd of buffalo. One cowboy says to the other cowboy, "Buffaloes are the dirtiest, smelliest, laziest critters on God's green earth. Look at that mangy coat, that hump back and those scrawny little legs. Man, they are ugly!" The cowboys rode off into the sunset and one of the buffaloes looked up and said to the other buffalo, "I think we just heard a discouraging word."

The Sunday after Easter can be a bit discouraging under even normal circumstances, and returning to business as usual can be a letdown. But, in ways, returning to business as usual would almost be welcome this year.  It’s going to be a long time before business as usual becomes the order of the day around here, and I’m afraid I’m not going to get the joy of experiencing that day with you. 

I've entitled this sermon "Postpartum" which comes from two Latin words, post, meaning after, and partus, to bring forth. Women are familiar with the term because it's used to describe that period immediately following the bringing forth of a child and, as I’m sure you know, it's often linked with another word, depression, as in "postpartum depression."

Easter is a tremendous high, the highest point on our Christian calendar.  We celebrate New life in Christ, and that’s the “bringing forth.”  But then there’s the “post,” and in purely natural, human terms it seems logical that there’s nowhere to go but down after that kind of supernatural high. What on earth do you do after Easter?  Another “post” is having the Barn and Fireside Room demolished in front of our very eyes.  And, still another “post” is the announcement that, after 13 years, Anni and I are leaving.  Am I the only one who is concerned about the possibility of a little postpartum depression?

But, my sermon title is Postpartum Promise.  The “partum” has to do with bringing forth - in other words, with birth, resurrection, new life and new hope. God will make a way.  That’s the promise and the confidence we claim, and that’s what this morning’s scripture lesson is about. Easter has come and gone, and now Peter and a few of the other disciples are going fishing.  They’re fishermen and sometimes just getting back to the routine of work is the best medicine.  Think of the intense spiritual highs and lows that they’d experienced together during the previous week. They didn’t just witness a church being torn down; they witnessed the very foundation stone of the church being overturned by their own priests in collusion with the imperial power of Rome.  They had witnessed their personal friend and the Lord of all life being taken away. Besides all that, Peter was replaying old tapes in his head, thinking about how different things had turned out from how he’d wanted them to be. He’d let his friend down, and he’s feeling moody and depressed.

And now Easter is over.  Peter and the others have briefly seen their risen Lord, but who’s to say they hadn’t been dreaming, that it wasn’t just wish fulfillment?  At some level, business as usual is going to return and Peter, like the rest of us, can’t stop his mind from thinking, thinking, thinking, going over the things he wished he’d said, or hadn't said, wondering if he'd feel better now if only he'd done something differently then.  I have those kinds of feelings, don’t you?  Looking back over the past 13 years I wish I could do some things over, and do them better.  I’ve said some things I wish I hadn’t said, and there are some things I’m still trying to say right.  So Peter's gone fishing, because he’s struggling with a bit of postpartum depression, wondering just what he'd say if he ever had a chance to do it again.

And then, suddenly, there Jesus is, standing on the shore, calling out, "Hey, guys, catching anything?" They're not, but the Lord gives them a few pointers and suddenly they're hauling in more fish than they know what to do with. Peter is aghast. He doesn't know whether to fish, cut bait, sink or swim. He jumps in the lake and starts swimming to meet his Lord.

Then, after a breakfast of pan fried fish, Jesus says, "Peter, let's take a walk. I've got something I want to ask you." A ways up the beach he says, "Peter, do you love me?" Can you imagine Jesus asking you that?  What would you say?  With a note of embarrassed pleading in his voice, Peter says what I think any of us would say: "Lord, you know I love you." Then Jesus says, "Feed my lambs." Honestly, I suspect that’s the same thing he’d tell you or me.  In fact, I think that’s what he is telling us.  And, just to make sure he/we get the point, Jesus asks Peter the same question three more times and each time when Peter declares his undying love, Jesus says, "Feed my sheep."

There's a beautiful symmetry to this passage. It’s referred to as the "restoration of Peter." It's a glance back, and what it means is that the past is undone, mistakes are forgiven and the slate is wiped clean. There is a wonderful message of hope and joy and confidence in this story for us, because we are all like Peter. We've all fallen short. We’ve all done things we wish we’d have done differently but, no matter what we've done, what we've said or left unsaid, the promise of this passage is that there is restoration. I just have to trust that I’ve been forgiven my past failings, as well as claim the promise that God's grace is sufficient for your future needs - that God is going to send another shepherd, just the right shepherd with exactly the personality, pastoral skills and spiritual gifts that are needed to move this church forward. That's the promise of God’s grace.

Postpartum looks backs, but it looks forward as well.  Bringing new life into the world is a beautiful thing and we are all laboring to bring forth the new creation of this church, this particular manifestation of the Body of Christ.  God willing, you will be celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ back in our beloved sanctuary, and it will be the most beautiful Christmas you’ve ever had.  I will definitely be with you in spirit.

As loving parents gaze at the life of a newborn child there's no question that the reward for their labor of love is a gift from God. But, the point of the “feed my sheep” story is that loving is more than cooing and snuggling. After the “partum,” the separation of birth, the coming forth, then comes the “post,” which is the nurturing and care giving.   That’s what Jesus is asking Peter, and us to do.  We need to feed the sheep as we continue to birth this new church.  Giving birth is hard work, but it’s exciting.  Postpartum love is also a lot of hard work, but sometimes it’s not all that exciting.  It’s taking responsibility for getting up for 3 a.m. feedings, changing diapers and nurturing new life. When Jesus responds to Peter's affirmations of love by saying, "Take care of my flock," he's making the point that the life of this church will go on, and that life is going to continue to need a lot of tender, loving care.  Once the building is complete, then we have to fill it with kids, with teachers, with new adult classes, with challenges for service as well as opportunities for fellowship, for spiritual growth and for learning. 

So what do we do after Easter? We get right back to the work of love, taking care of the business of birthing and caring for the Body of Christ. But it's not just business as usual. There's a difference. The assurance we receive is that the risen Lord is with us in both the birthing, and the nurturing process, walking with us just as he was walking with Peter, watching over our labor of love, and directing our every effort. That’s the promise.  To God be the glory. Amen.