“When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?’” — John 21:15 (NRSVUE)
Senator Lindsey Graham’s death this weekend has led many people to reflect on his life and legacy. Some remember his sense of humor, his friendships with people from both parties, and his dedication to South Carolina. Others find it hard to match the Lindsey Graham they once admired with the public figure he became in recent years.1 Like all of us, his story is more complex than simple praise or criticism can capture.
When someone passes away, I find it helpful to ask myself: What can I learn from their life about my own?
While reading the tributes and criticisms this weekend, I started thinking about another person whose life was shaped by being close to power.
On the night Jesus was arrested, Peter stood in the high priest’s courtyard, warming his hands by a charcoal fire. He had followed Jesus farther than most of the other disciples and had not run away. He stayed close enough to see what would happen, close enough to those in power, and maybe close enough to think he could still make a difference.
It was by that fire that Peter denied knowing Jesus.
I wonder if the denial started before he spoke, maybe at the moment when staying close to power mattered more to him than staying close to the truth.
That temptation didn’t end with Peter. It shows up wherever there is power, in governments, churches, universities, businesses, and even families.
Power pulls us in. The closer we get, the easier it is to justify compromises. We might call it strategy or prudence. We tell ourselves we stay close so we can still help, and that making one small concession now will let us do more good later.
Sometimes that’s true. Other times, it’s just a story we tell ourselves as we slowly lose touch with what we believe.
I don’t know exactly when that line gets crossed, and I doubt Peter did either. What stands out in John’s Gospel is that the story doesn’t end at the first fire.
After the resurrection, Peter goes back to fishing. At dawn, he sees a stranger on the shore. When they come ashore, John notices another charcoal fire waiting for them, with bread and fish ready.
Only John mentions that it’s a charcoal fire. He wants us to notice the connection. The first fire was where Peter lost himself; the second is where he finds himself again.
Jesus never asks Peter why he denied him or demands an explanation. He doesn’t ask Peter to defend his choices or explain his compromises. Instead, he asks just one question: “Do you love me?” He asks it three times, once for each denial.
This question goes beyond Peter’s public failure and reaches something deeper. Before Peter was a disciple, a leader, or someone who made promises he couldn’t keep, he was just a man who loved Jesus. Everything else got complicated, but that love remained. Maybe that’s why Jesus starts there.
As I thought about Senator Graham’s life this weekend, I realized this reflection isn’t really about him. It’s about all of us.
All of us spend our lives moving toward one fire or another. We know what it’s like to want influence, acceptance, success, belonging, or security. We feel the pull to stay close to whatever seems to control the future. And at some point, each of us has said or done things our younger selves might not even recognize. This could certainly be said of Senator Graham’s leadership.
The gospel doesn’t pretend these things won’t happen. It simply says that failure is never the end of the story.
There is always another fire, another invitation, another morning when Christ meets us, not with accusation, but with breakfast. He doesn’t ask if we won, stayed influential, or were always right. He only asks: “Do you love me?”
I believe this may be one of the deepest questions in spiritual life.
It doesn’t erase our failures, but it remains the surest way back to who we are.
We are in this together,
Cameron
Reflection Questions
Where in your own life do you feel the pull to remain close to influence, approval, or power, even when it asks something of your integrity?
Can you remember a moment when you realized you had become someone your younger self would scarcely recognize? What helped you find your way back?
Jesus never asks Peter to explain his failure. He asks only, “Do you love me?” Why do you think that question comes first?
A Prayer for the Day
A Prayer For The Second Fire
Faithful God, You know the places where we have compromised ourselves. You know the bargains we have made, the words we wish we had not spoken, and the silences that still trouble us. Yet you do not meet us with shame. You prepare breakfast. You light a fire. You call us again by the oldest language our souls remember: Love. When we lose ourselves in the pursuit of power, status, approval, or security, lead us gently home. And when we have forgotten who we are, ask us once more the question that matters most. Amen.
Spiritual Practice
Find Your Fire
If you are able, light a candle. Sit quietly before the flame for five minutes.
As you watch it burn, reflect on two questions:
Where am I tempted to stay close to power?
Where is Love inviting me to return to it?
Do not try to solve either question. Simply let the flame remind you that every fire can become a place of revelation.
Some reveal where we have lost ourselves. Others illuminate the way home.
Upcoming Events That Might Be of Interest…
My team and I launched a new experiment we are calling “The Commons.” It’s an online space centered around communities of practice: groups of people who share a common concern, set of problems, or passion for a topic, and deepen their knowledge and expertise by interacting on an ongoing basis. Join the community here.
July 14, 11:00 - 12:30pm ET - Community Conversation on The Commons - Margaret Wheatley will be joining me for a conversation on how we build “islands of sanity” in a world that feels increasingly fragile. She has identified five pillars in the architecture of resilient community. For those of us wishing to form and be in healthy community with others in this time, you don’t want to miss this conversation. REGISTER HERE.
July 28 - September 1, 2026, 12:30-1:30pmET - Book Club in The Commons - FREE - We are reading our next book, “I Eat The Stars” by Sarah Wilson. We will meet each Tuesday for 6 weeks. It’s such great fun. I hope you will be a part. All are welcome! RSVP HERE.
September 8, 2026, 7-9pm ET, ONLINE EVENT - I’ll be hosting a powerful online gathering on The Black Madonna: Sacred Wisdom for a World in Crisis with Matthew Fox, Alessandra Belloni, and Christena Cleveland. We will explore the Black Madonna as a symbol of resilience, liberation, sacred feminine wisdom, and healing in a fractured world through conversation, story, music, and spiritual reflection. If you feel drawn toward a deeper encounter with the Divine Feminine and the ancient traditions that continue to nourish movements for justice and wholeness, I hope you’ll join us. Learn more and REGISTER HERE.
October 6, 2026 - 7-8:30pm ET, ONLINE EVENT - Matthew Fox and I are teaming up again to launch a series called Journeying with the Mystics. The mystics have always emerged in times of uncertainty. They appear when old certainties are crumbling, when institutions no longer provide easy answers, and when people find themselves longing for a deeper experience of the Sacred. Join us for an 18-session exploration of the teachings of St. John of the Cross, Thomas Merton, Hildegard of Bingen, Kabir and Rumi, Meister Eckhart and more. This is more than a lecture series. It is an invitation into a living spiritual journey. REGISTRATION COMING SOON!
October 18-21, 2026 - PREACH! 2026 Conference- I’ll be co-hosting PREACH in Minneapolis with Church Anew, a new gathering for preachers, storytellers, worship leaders, and spiritual communicators navigating what it means to speak with clarity, compassion, and courage in a changing world. If you’ve sensed that the preaching moment has changed and are longing for thoughtful community and renewed imagination for this work, I hope you’ll join us.
I drafted a Strategic Framework for Congregations as we move into the coming years of increased authoritarianism around the world. If interested, you can download it here.
Fun Things My Friends Are Up To…
I get to work with such amazing, creative people. This section is my way of celebrating them—no paid promotions, just joy in what they’re creating.
June 29, 2026, 12pm ET - ONLINE WRITING GROUP - My dear friend, Meryl Marshall-Daniels, is leading a writing group open to all. This is a simple and spacious writing circle for people who want time to listen inwardly and put words on the page without overthinking, performing, or polishing. Meryl offers a prompt designed to invite reflection, imagination, and attunement to what is already alive within you. The practice honors writing as a way of listening, of letting images, memories, questions, and insights surface in their own time. Learn more here.
My friends over at Spiritual Wanderlust have some of the coolest classes. One I am particularly drawn to is their Celtic Spirituality School where you get to learn from people like John Philip Newell, Ilia Delio, Carl McColman, Sharon Blackie, and more. Read more about their program.
If you are a leader or member of a congregation looking for consulting support in visioning, planning, hiring or staffing, please consider Convergence.
https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/2026/07/lindsey-graham/687893/
Thank you, Rev. Trimble! So true, sometimes the fire meant to warm us ends up burning us. We need to respect its potential. I am a poet, and about a month ago, I wrote a poem about that very image of the charcoal fire in John's gospel. Not sure I can print it here, but here it goes!
Charcoal Fire
John’s Gospel, chapter 21
He knew.
He knew that after a night at sea,
rowing, wet, fighting the waves,
fighting our sadness,
we’d be hungry.
Is there anything better than a hot breakfast?
Fish sizzling in a skillet,
lightly salted,
just baked bread to sop up the grease,
to sop up the sadness?
We didn’t know it was him,
but somehow we did.
Didn’t we see him feed the 5,000?
He asked for our fish and kept cooking
over a charcoal fire,
sliding the savory deliciousness
into our thankful hands.
It wasn’t until later that he asked me
if I loved him – three times –
and before each “yes” I closed my eyes
and remembered that cold night, the fear,
and the denial over that other charcoal fire.
“Yes, Lord, you know I do.”
He knew.
Amen. Power is alluring but our impacts as disciples are so personal and individual. A senator could choose to harm or do good for broader groups than single individuals. Judgment is not mine. I am responsible for my own accountability in serving and stumbling in serving God. I will be struggling with that full time until my last breath.