sermon excerpts: What's the Catch?

Whether it’s our trivial hero worship or the arrival of the Lord and Saviour of our faith, our reaction is one of surprise, disbelief and mistaken identity. Jesus arrives upon the scene and is again defying expectations: going against the local knowledge and expertise by suggesting a midday fishing expedition. The suggestion to go to deep water and put out the nets is like one of those harebrained schemes that only a carpenter from Nazareth would think of telling fishermen how to go about their trade. The reaction to this unexpected instruction is the classic argument: “we’ve never done it that way before” or “we’ve always done it this way”.

To their credit, they go out anyway. Perhaps it was an act of hospitality to this visitor from out-of-town or adventure seeking. After an unsuccessful night, they wanted something to break up the monotony of the day’s routine. And Christ’s abundance spill forth, straining at the nets, threatening to swamp their boats.

Peter rejects his own self-worth, calling himself a “sinful man” and, instead of asking for forgiveness, tells Jesus to get away. Is this because he’s afraid that he might taint Jesus? His reaction borders on desperation: “Go away from me Lord!” As if Peter and his corrupted, sinful nature was contagious.

What was his sin? Thinking they wouldn’t catch any fish? I think we’d all react the same way when a stranger tells us how to do our job. Granted he was in a cranky mood, given the failure of the night before.

After an empty, pointless night of hard labour, they had nothing to show for it. Sometimes that’s how we see our lives and our church. We go out of our way to pull together a breakfast bake sale and it is poorly attended. Anniversary Service doesn’t seem very celebratory when the attendance is poor. Or the prospect of the Annual Meeting thins out our Sunday morning numbers.

But such is the measure of success in the fishing world: it is all about numbers. There may have been benefit in getting together to spend time with your co-workers, strengthening relationship within your fishing co-op, but in the end, if you don’t have the numbers, the attempt was a failure.
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Here again, Christ defies the conventional measures of success, power and prestige. We have Jesus speaking with the disciples and making mention that they will become fishers of men. Yet, nowhere in this account does he invite them to come along. They decided of their own accord that they would follow him. In this telling of the story, he doesn’t say follow me. He tells them, “Do not be afraid” – a common assurance, because the disciples were apparently a nervous lot – and “from now on, you will catch people.”

All this was response to Peter’s reaction of unworthiness and guilt. Yet what prevailed was a sense that something great and infinite was at hand. Those fishermen want to be part of it; something has compelled them to just up and leave. Leaving behind their families, friends, that rich load of fish. They could have stayed where they were and become fishers of people.

We might imagine an alternate ending to the story: Simon Peter, James and John stayed put, working within their own community, among their own people with a new message to share. They would repeat and relate the teachings they heard from Jesus that morning. People would come from the villages around to hear what they would say.

They would be powerful lay leaders of the political and social movement that followed Jesus. They stay put and yet God’s work would be done. Centuries later, we could be assured that we ourselves don’t have to go on mission trips to the deepest darkest jungles, armed only with Bibles and a prayer.

But all of this is an exercise in imagination. We know those fishermen take the adventurous route; they pick up and follow Jesus on a journey that we know is full of opportunity, healing and miracles. There will also be unexpected lessons, hardships, betrayal and confusion. And doubts.

We question our abilities. Life teaches that to us. We have limitations and weaknesses, we are painfully aware of those. We make mistakes, don’t live up to expectations, underperform. And so we sell ourselves short.

All of this keeps us from being the best of who we could be. Not only as individuals but as communities, as congregations. So let this be our lesson in this season of church annual meetings: Our assumptions get in the way of greatness, when we think we know better, like the daytime fishermen. Let us be willing to risk, willing to try again, even the face of recent failure.

Know that God accepts our doubts, will purify our hearts and will lead us to a bountiful catch of blessing and abundance, so much that we will strain from the magnitude of our success. As we follow Christ in whatever way we choose, we journey into a power and presence larger and deeper than any ocean. And it will make a difference. So will we. Amen.