Sermon

It's funny what experiences and phrases stick with you from childhood. I still remember a line from a song which was popular, for at least a short period of time, in my early childhood. It was a half-funny, half-pathetic little lament from someone who felt rejected and unsuccessful. As I recall, each verse ended with the phrase, "I think I'll go and eat worms!"

Most of us can understand the mood of the song - don’t worry, it’s not a new diet fad. Every one of us feels like a failure at one time or another. Some people actually feel that way most of the time. On some occasions we don't know why we feel so defeated and unloveable; but at times, nevertheless, we do feel that way.

Jesus came, one day, upon a trio of defeated men. He had met them before, when they were associated with John the Baptist. Now they were about their customary work - fishing. But this was a very bad day. They had fished all night and had caught nothing. 

If you fish as a hobby, such a period is simply frustrating; but when it's your job and the only source of your income, a night of empty nets is thoroughly demoralizing. We say that misery loves company, so perhaps the pain was at least partly relieved by the fact that all three men were in the same boat. Nevertheless, the misery was running very deep.

Now it was morning, after a night of failure, and the men were washing their nets so they'd be ready for the next night's work. Suddenly Jesus of Nazareth, the rising young teacher, stepped into Simon's boat. "Take me out a bit from the land," he said to Simon; and from that position, Jesus began to teach the people.

There's no record of what Jesus said, nor even of how long he talked. Nor is there any indication of how much attention Simon and his partners, James and John, paid to Jesus' teaching. We only know that when Jesus had finished teaching he said to Simon, "Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch."

It was really quite audacious for Jesus, a landlubber, to tell three professional fishermen how to do their business. Perhaps he sensed they were so defeated that they were ready for any kind of advice - from anyone! Or perhaps he was counting on the fact that they had confidence in him from their earlier experiences with him.

Simon refused at first. "Master, we fished all night and took nothing!" It is the language of someone who already feels so defeated that he doesn't want to submit himself to the possibility of still another failure. However, he quickly added, "But at your word I will let down the nets."

Again, it's hard to know why Simon responded as he did. It would have been easy to put Jesus off with a polite refusal. Maybe Simon answered out of the spirit that says, "I've tried everything else without success, so why shouldn't I try this?" Or perhaps it was just another dramatic piece of evidence that Jesus "spoke with authority." Something about the Master's utter assurance must have made it difficult to refuse him.

So they threw out the nets from Simon's boat and captured a great shoal of fish. So great, in fact, that the load strained their nets to the limit, and they had to enlist help from another boat. Now both boats were loaded with fish. It was probably more than a night's catch, and they had harvested it within a matter of minutes.

So it was, that their dark night of failure was turned suddenly into glittering success - greater success than they had ever known in all of their fishing career. It wasn't just the catch that was so satisfying, but the complete sense of events turning around. Victory is always exhilarating, but especially such an unexpected victory.

If this is where the story ended, it would be an interesting but rather insignificant little miracle. It might feed our desire for a gospel of success in business and good grades in school, but it would hardly be worthy of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Fortunately, Simon Peter saw more than just the miracle. He was captured by the Lord behind the miracle. Thus, instead of responding with the bravado of a winner, he pleaded for forgiveness. Falling at Jesus' knees, he begged, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”

At first glance, that may seem an unlikely reaction to a moment of success. Sometimes, however, it is the experience of achievement which forces us to see how superficial our victories are. 

The truth is, a person can have full nets but still have an empty life. After you've sold the fish in the market and have put a share of the money in the bank, you may still feel an emptiness deeper than empty nets and a yearning more poignant than the desire for economic security. You and I know some people like that; and there are many others in this category.

It is sometimes said that the miracles of Jesus are parables in action; they teach a lesson. Jesus definitely used this miracle in that fashion. "Don't be afraid," he told the frightened Simon Peter; "From now on I will  make you fishers of men." 

It was both the contrast and the reassurance Simon needed. At the contrast level, what could be more dramatic than the difference between fish and human beings? No doubt there had been a time in Simon's life when he dreamed of being the best fisherman on the Sea of Galilee. 

A person of Peter's personality must have had big dreams for himself. But all of our dreams are limited. Because Peter's experience had been confined almost entirely to the area of Galilee and to the vocation of the fishing villages, he probably had no expectations beyond what might be envisioned within those borders.

He could hardly have imagined that people would still talk about him twenty centuries later. And surely he couldn't have dreamed that someday the term "the Big Fisherman" would be a synonym for Simon Peter! How paltry "best fisherman on the Sea of Galilee" sounds compared with that. As paltry, in fact, as fish in a net seem when compared with human souls.

Simon needed such reassurance. As a matter of fact, as mercurial as he was, he would need it again and again. He would have to be told often that he was more than he had ever imagined himself to be. But just now, when he felt so unworthy, it was electrifying to hear that the Master had work for him to do. Far from being rejected for his sins, as he felt he ought to be, he was being called to a grand assignment - a great commission! Jesus wanted him to become a fisher of human souls.

How often do you and I settle for an achievement or a dream with boundaries no larger than the Sea of Galilee?  We think little of Jesus' command that we should be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect.  We discount the words as a kind of ancient encouragement, or we push it aside with self-deprecating laughter: "Perfect? Who, me?"

As one of your very imperfect brothers, I understand such feelings. But I don't want us to rule out so easily what God's grand purposes might be. I'm only saying that our Lord had something serious and possible in mind when he called us to such a goal. 

The promise of heaven ought to inspire us to a greater effort in the here and now.

Nor do we take seriously enough our potential for the fruit of the Spirit. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness are such beautiful qualities - and ones we are so glad to find in others; so why don't we pursue them more hopefully and expectantly for ourselves? It is partly because we have boundaries as confining as the Sea of Galilee. 

Jesus wanted Peter to fish for human souls. Until the moment of that revelation, Simon Peter apparently would have been content to spend his nights on Galilee. That's not to criticise the fishermen of Galilee. It's only to say that a person should not too quickly place too small boundaries around his or her soul.

Perhaps our greatest problem is that we try to make such witnessing an isolated part of life; the occasions ought, rather, to be part of the natural flow of living. 

That's the impressive thing about Jesus' own pattern of faith-sharing. His encounters with Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, and the rich young ruler don't seem to be structured and set up. They "just happened," so to speak. And it's especially significant that each individual was treated in a specific way. They were persons to Jesus, not people to be met with a formula.

To be sensitive to the Holy Spirit must mean that we will be more sensitive to people and their pain; to be more sensitive to people ought to make us more open to God and his purposes.

Who knows what a catch we will make? Who can say what an eternal achievement can be ours? The opportunity came to Simon Peter in the wake of a night of defeat. The same opportunity awaits us each day in all our passing relationships. You and I have allied ourselves with One who will lead us into a life of full nets. Such is his purpose for each of us.  AMEN.