Will You Continue With Me?

Daily Office Readings for August 25, 2026: Psalm 5, 6, 10, 11; Job 6:1–4, 8–15, 21; Acts 9:32–43; John 6:60–71

I read all of the Daily Office readings today, but I keep coming back to the Gospel reading. Sometimes one passage says something to me that is too important to mix with everything else. Today, that passage is John 6:60–71.

Jesus had just finished telling those who were following him about receiving his body and blood as spiritual food. It was difficult teaching. Many of those listening did not understand it. Some were offended by it.

They said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?”

Jesus did not make it easier for them. He even asked, “Does this offend you?” Then he asked what they would think if they saw the Son of Man ascending to where he was before.

Many of his disciples made their choice. They turned back and no longer followed him.

Then Jesus turned to the Twelve and asked a question that hits home with me:

“Do you also wish to go away?”

Or, as I hear it sitting here on my front porch:

Will you continue with me?

That is a harder question for me than it might first appear.

There have been times in my life when I didn’t continue. I took detours. New opportunities appeared, and I thought, Surely this is God.

I could find justification for my choices. I had every excuse in the book. Yet something was missing.

Looking back, perhaps I was looking through glass that had frosted over. I could see shapes, but I couldn’t see clearly. I confused what I wanted, what seemed reasonable, or what appeared to be an open door with where God was actually leading me.

Eventually, I would recognize the detour for what it was.

And somehow I kept finding my way back.

Or maybe it would be better to say that the Holy Spirit kept urging me to return.

That is why Simon Peter means so much to me in this passage.

When Jesus asks whether the Twelve will leave too, Peter boldly answers:

“Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

What a declaration!

Yet we know the rest of Peter’s story.

When Jesus was arrested and following him suddenly became dangerous, this same bold Peter froze. Three times he denied even knowing Jesus.

I understand Peter.

It is easy to make bold declarations when everything is going well. It is something else when following Jesus costs us something, when we are frightened, when we don’t understand, or when another road looks easier.

We have all had our Peter moments.

But Peter’s failure wasn’t the end of his story.

After the resurrection, Jesus met Peter beside a charcoal fire. He didn’t throw Peter’s failure in his face. He fed him breakfast and asked him, “Do you love me?”

That reminds me of another story Jesus told.

A son leaves home believing another life will be better. Eventually he finds himself in a hog pen. When he finally comes to himself, he starts home rehearsing what he will say to his father.

But while he is still a long way off, his father sees him.

And his father runs to meet him.

Thank God for a love like that.

Maybe continuing with Jesus doesn’t mean that I will never wander. Maybe it doesn’t mean that I will always understand. It certainly doesn’t mean that I will never become frightened, make the wrong decision, or mistake a detour for the road.

Perhaps continuing means that when I discover I have wandered, I listen for that voice calling me home.

When I realize I am on a detour, I turn around.

When I cannot understand what God is doing, I keep walking as best I can.

And when I freeze at the moment that matters, as Peter did, I trust that failure does not have to be the end of my story.

Jesus still asks:

Will you continue with me?

I cannot promise that I will never wander again. My pilgrimage has taught me better than that.

But I can say:

Lord, I have wandered. I have mistaken detours for the road. I have justified choices because I could not see clearly. Yet somehow, through your grace, I keep hearing you call me back. And here I am. I am still following.

And perhaps that is grace.

When we finally turn toward home, we discover that God is already running down the road to meet us.

The Curious Pilgrim