When You’ve Blown It: The One Question Jesus Still Asks

Have you ever had a moment you wish you could take back?

A conversation you wish you could redo. A time when you should’ve spoken up — but didn’t. Or maybe you said something in anger or fear and immediately wished you could rewind the tape.

These are the kinds of moments that follow us. They sit quietly in the background of our lives like unfinished conversations or unopened letters. Sometimes we try to justify them. Sometimes we try to forget them. And sometimes… we don’t even know how to apologize. The wound is too deep. The shame runs too thick.

And yet — those moments are precisely the ones where Jesus does his most beautiful work.

Peter’s Moment

Peter had a moment like that. Actually, three of them — back-to-back.

Before Jesus was crucified, Peter had promised, “Even if all these others fall away, I won’t.” He declared his loyalty loud and clear — and then, just hours later, denied even knowing Jesus.

Not once. Not twice. But three times.

And the third time, Peter didn’t just lie. He invoked a curse on himself: “May God strike me dead if I know the man.” And right then — the rooster crowed. Just like Jesus had said it would.

The weight of that moment crushed Peter. Scripture says he broke down and wept.

And that’s the last thing he did before Jesus died.

Unspoken Tension

Now fast-forward a few days. Jesus is alive. He’s appeared to the disciples. They’ve eaten together, laughed together, maybe even caught each other’s eyes around the fire.

But nothing has been said about that moment.

The elephant is still in the room.

Have you ever been there? You’re with someone you love, and there’s something big between you — something unresolved. And every word you speak dances around it. You don’t know if you should bring it up or let it go. You just know the silence is heavy.

That’s where Peter was.

Until Jesus finally broke the silence.

But not with a rebuke. Not with a lecture.

Jesus looked at Peter and asked:
“Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?”

The Power of a Question

Let’s pause there. This question — “Do you love me more than these?” — might be Jesus gently calling back to Peter’s earlier boast. “Even if they all fall away, I won’t.”

Now Jesus asks, “Do you still think that’s true?”

But more than that, Jesus asks Peter about love, not performance.

And that’s everything.

Jesus doesn’t ask, “Are you sorry?”
He doesn’t ask, “Can you promise never to fail again?”
He doesn’t even ask, “Do you understand what you did wrong?”

He asks:
“Do you love me?”

What Kind of Love?

John, writing this story in Greek, includes a bit of wordplay that helps us feel the moment.

Jesus asks, “Do you agape me?”
Agape is the Greek word for committed, self-sacrificial love — the kind of love that puts someone else first, no matter the cost.

But Peter doesn’t respond with the same word. He says, “Lord, you know that I philia you.”
Philia is affectionate love — the kind you feel toward a brother or friend.

Peter can’t bring himself to say agape. Not after what he did.

It’s as if he’s saying:
“I want to love you like that… but I know I’ve already failed. I can’t promise you agape. But I still care. I still want to be with you.”

And that — right there — is the beginning of grace.

Grace That Meets Us Where We Are

Jesus asks again. And again, Peter gives the same answer.

Then, the third time, Jesus adjusts his question. He says, “Do you philia me?”
Jesus meets Peter right where he is.

And when Peter says yes, Jesus replies, “Feed my sheep.”

Three denials.
Three affirmations.
Three commissions.

Jesus isn’t just forgiving Peter. He’s restoring him.
He’s putting the broken relationship back together.
He’s placing ministry back in Peter’s hands.

Peter, who failed publicly and spectacularly, is now publicly and graciously re-called.

What About Us?

All of us are Peter at some point.

We’ve all had moments we wish we could undo.
We’ve all made promises we didn’t keep.
We’ve all denied Jesus in our own ways — with our words, with our silence, with our actions.

And the voice of shame will tell us:
“You blew it. You’re out. You don’t get to be part of this anymore.”

But the voice of Jesus says:
“Do you love me?”

That’s it.

Not, “Did you learn your lesson?”
Not, “Will you be better next time?”
Just — “Do you love me?”

Because love is the point.

If You’re Carrying Shame

Maybe today, you’re carrying something.

A broken relationship.
A failed opportunity.
A moment that spiraled out of control.

Maybe you’ve tried to bury it. Maybe you’ve made peace with the idea that God forgives you, but you’re not sure if He could still use you.

Friend, hear this clearly:

You are forgiven.
You are loved.
And yes — you are still called.

Jesus restores by grace.
And the only question He’s asking is:
“Do you love me?”

Even if your love is faltering.
Even if you say, “I’m trying.”
Even if all you can whisper is, “I care about you.”

That’s enough.

A New Beginning

Jesus says,
“Come. Eat. Be fed.”
“This table is not a prize for the perfect. It’s food for the faltering.”

And then He says:
“Follow me.”
“Let’s begin again.”

It doesn’t lean on resolve.
It leans on relationship.

So whatever you’ve done — wherever you are — Jesus says to you today:

“I see you. I know. You are mine. I love you. Let’s begin again.”