It's February, the month of flowers, chocolate and champagne. Valentines are everywhere, and love is on our minds. Children give heart-shaped cards, and even pets can send each other greetings. Still, there's no mistaking that Valentine's Day is mostly about celebrating the giddy euphoria of new romance. And why not? Most everyone agrees that it was lots of fun.

Romance is how most families start. But even this heady beginning doesn't keep most people from discovering that the thrills and chills of romance won't keep a family together. That takes difficult and decidedly unsentimental work. If people knew how tough it would be, they might not be so quick to make commitments. They may be considerably more prudent about their promises.

The disciple Peter was prone to making promises. In the flush of newfound faith, complete with the enthusiastic fervor common to converts and new love, he confessed Jesus as Messiah, took off walking across a lake and promised loyalty forever.

In John 21, Peter is recovering from a broken promise, his own. He made the promise imprudently, when his love for Jesus was still naive, before he knew that an observant servant girl could turn his knees to mush. Full of bluster and bravado on that turbulent Thursday night, he promised Jesus he would never leave. No matter what the others did, he would never leave.

"Never" didn't last long. When he heard the rooster crow on Friday morning, he knew what a fraud he was, how cowardly and despicable. His swagger turned to shame and sorrow.

Now, days later on the beach, the risen Jesus asked Peter, "Do you love me?" "You know that I love you," Peter replied. It is an answer that Peter, who knew himself and Jesus better now, had considered.

Love may begin with candlelight and candy, but true love usually ends up more like this: reconciling words after failures and regrets; recommitment when there are no more illusions. Jesus knew, of course, that Peter loved him, but Jesus wanted Peter to be sure, too. Jesus' love cannot be stopped by our failure to do the right thing. It goes beyond our lack of courage in the face of opposition. We may see nothing but our own cowardice and defeats, but Jesus insists on seeing what God's love can make us.

"You know I love you," Peter told Jesus, and Jesus responded, "Feed my sheep." Peter's famous declarations were not enough. His new, more reflective love called for action, and now he was up to the task. The rest of Peter's life was spent sharing the true love that had called him so graciously again.

Enjoy, if you wish, the fun and froth of Valentine's Day. Eat the chocolate and smell the roses or celebrate in your own way. But let the hearts and flowers remind you of the truest love, God's own grace, that loves you more than you can imagine, no matter what you have done or said or been, and that knows who you can become and what you can do.

About the Author: Karen Melang is a deaconess from Lincoln, Nebraska. She works as director of Habitat for Humanity in Fremont, Nebraska and volunteers in her congregation and synod.
 

Prayer: Jesus, when our loving is not enough, give us your own to share with those around us. Amen.