One of the most painful things you can experience in an intimate relationship is when someone questions your love. You’ve given, sacrificed, endured—and still, they ask, “Do you love me?”
Peter knew that feeling. He wasn’t just a disciple—he was handpicked by Jesus. He had all-access to the Son of God. Peter was the one invited to walk on water. He was there on the Mount of Transfiguration. He got to see Jesus in His glory. He was in the garden of Gethsemane, but he fell asleep when he should have been watching. He was the only one bold enough to say, “You are the Christ,” and Jesus confirmed that Heaven itself had revealed it to him.
Yet despite all that closeness, Peter also denied Jesus three times. And still, Jesus restored him. That’s love.
After everything Peter had seen and done, there came a day when Jesus asked him three times, “Do you love Me?”—but not just “Do you love Me?” He asked, “Do you love Me more than these?”
That question pierced Peter’s heart. It grieved him. Jesus wasn’t trying to humiliate him; He was trying to heal him. He was calling Peter back into alignment. He was showing Peter that love isn’t just a feeling—it’s a call to action. Each time Peter answered, Jesus gave him an assignment: Feed My lambs. Feed My sheep.
Sometimes, our actions make people—and even God—question our love. Not because He doesn’t already know the answer, but because He wants us to know what it costs to prove it.
Jesus told Peter that his love would one day cost him his life. He was preparing him for that level of sacrifice. “When you were young, you dressed yourself and went where you wanted. But when you are old, someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.”
That verse shook me the first time I really understood it. Jesus was letting Peter know that loving Him wasn’t going to be convenient—it was going to be costly.
I remember when God asked me the same question: “Do you love Me?”
It was during the darkest season of my life. My late ex-husband had told me over and over that he was going to leave. I had done everything I could to make it work—fought for him, prayed for him, cried for him. I remember the day I came before the Lord, completely broken. I told God, “I love him. I can’t live without him.” I meant it. I was suicidal.
That’s when the Lord spoke softly but firmly: “There is no greater love than this—that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
I died that day. Not physically, but spiritually. Something in me surrendered. I stopped trying to fix what only God could heal. I stopped making my love conditional on someone else’s response. I gave God all of me.
From that moment on, I began to live differently. My identity wasn’t tied to being chosen by man—it was anchored in being chosen by God. My responses changed because dead men don’t respond. The Word of God began to govern my emotions. I stopped bleeding from what hurt me and started pouring from what healed me.
Like Peter, I found restoration through brokenness. The same Jesus who asked, “Do you love Me?” also covered Peter’s failure and still trusted him with His sheep. That’s the kind of God we serve.
Today, He’s still asking the same question: Do you love Me?
And if you do, show it. Feed His sheep. Love who He’s assigned to you. Die to yourself daily. Because love isn’t just spoken—it’s demonstrated.