Stewards, Not Saviors

In John 21:15–17, most of us zoom in on the same line.

“Peter, do you love me?”

Three times.

And we get it. It mirrors the three denials. It’s painful. It’s restorative. It’s personal.

But I’m convinced that’s not actually the center of the passage.

The weight of the moment isn’t just in the questions Jesus asks.

It’s in what He says after Peter answers.

Every single time.

“Feed My lambs.”

“Tend My sheep.”

“Feed My sheep.”

That word "My" is doing more work than we usually notice.

Yes, Peter needed to say “I love you.” He needed to say it out loud. Publicly. The same way he had denied Jesus publicly. There’s mercy in that repetition.

But Jesus doesn’t just restore Peter’s feelings.

He redefines his assignment.

And He makes something unmistakably clear:

The sheep never belonged to Peter.

They were always His.

That little pronoun keeps everything in the right place.

Not “build your ministry.”

Not “grow your following.”

Not “these people are yours now.”

“My lambs.”

“My sheep.”

Jesus is restoring Peter, but He’s not transferring ownership.

And that matters.

Because the moment we think the sheep belong to us, the pressure shifts in a dangerous way.

We start to feel responsible for outcomes.

Responsible for growth.

Responsible for maturity.

Responsible for whether they thrive or wander.

And with "Responsibility" comes Fear... Self Promotion... Self Protection... Self Reliance...

But God never called us to be responsible for the sheep in that ultimate sense.

He didn’t hand us the weight of being their Savior.

He gave us the ability to respond... to His leading, His guidance, His heart... as we care for what already belongs to Him.

There’s a world of difference between being responsible for the sheep and being responsive to the Shepherd.

One is crushing.

The other is clarifying.

If the sheep belong to Peter, then their spiritual future rests on his shoulders.

But if the sheep belong to Jesus?

Then Peter’s role is stewardship, not sovereignty.

He’s an under-shepherd, not the Savior.

He listens. He follows. He feeds as he’s led.

The outcome is still in Jesus’ hands.

That’s not passivity. It’s alignment.

And let’s be honest, we need that reminder just as much as Peter did.

We slip into ownership language so easily.

My people.

My ministry.

My team.

Even my family.

John 21 gently but firmly pulls that possessiveness out of our hands.

They’re His.

Always have been.

Recently, I have been sad with the fact that my current physical condition does not allow me to properly take care of my wife to support her in her daily tasks. Simple things like taking out the garbage… Shoveling the sidewalk… Helping with the laundry… all have become difficult tasks for me to manage. like the story of the Israelites, where they are called upon to make bricks with no straw, I’m sad with feeling like my physical straw is gone, but I still have a desire to manage daily tasks that my wife needs me to do.

God is teaching me that His strength is made perfect in my weakness and that he knows my wife’s needs before I know them. And what He needs me to do to support my wife, He will give me the strength to do it. No where is scripture does it tell us the Israelites did not fill their daily quota when not given straw.

There’s something incredibly comforting in that.

Peter had failed. Publicly. Loudly. Repeatedly.

Failure has a way of making you question whether you should ever be trusted again.

But Jesus doesn’t say, “Prove yourself.”

He says, in essence, “If you love Me, care for what I love.”

And what He loves... what He claims... are His sheep.

That word “My” means Peter isn’t stepping back into leadership alone. The Good Shepherd hasn’t stepped away. He’s still the owner. Still the protector. Still the One ultimately responsible.

Peter is invited to participate, not replace.

We often read this passage as a test of Peter’s love.

But it’s also a revelation of Jesus’ heart.

The sheep matter to Him.

They’re His.

And if we really love Him, we’ll treat them like they’re His too.

With humility.

With care.

With a willingness to respond to His voice instead of trying to control the outcome.

Sometimes the most powerful theology in a passage is hiding in a single, almost invisible word.

“My.”

And that one word keeps us grounded... humble enough not to claim ownership, free enough not to carry what only Jesus can carry, and attentive enough to respond when the true Shepherd speaks.