I read how Jesus grilled some fish
Upon a charcoal fire,
Inviting His disciples, “Come and dine.”
‘Twas on a bank beside the sea,
Where they had fished all night
With not a single fish caught in their nets.
They saw Him standing on the shore
When He called out to them
To let their fishing nets down one more time,
Then strained to lift those heavy nets,
Filled now with an abundance,
And as He bade, they brought some fish they’d caught.
He questioned Peter of his love
And prophesied his death,
Entreating him to ever “feed His lambs.”
The thought of picnic breakfast time,
Prepared by God’s own hand,
Caused me to wish I’d been found in their midst.
But as I pondered, I recalled
The picnics where I’ve been
With Christian friends in blessed fellowship
And our anticipation of
That “someday” prophesied,
To gather ‘round the table with our Lord.
May I be found before that day
With others, who like Peter,
Display their love by feeding “Jesus’ lambs.”
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