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On a night like this, even I would think the sky was
falling. Dark clouds hung heavily, and the air was damp with the smell of coming rain. My spirits were about as heavy as we rowed in.
A crowd
had gathered along the shore of Galilee … unusual for this time of morning.
Unusual anytime. As we neared, we saw him. This was the man who drew crowds
wherever he went, yet seemed so ordinary. He did not have a look of importance.
He could well have blended into the crowd, except … there was something about
the way he spoke and about the way he looked at people. There was a gentleness.
A sereneness. He spoke with such certainty while men and women listened
carefully, hanging on each word and waiting for the next. Children hugged his
legs and tugged at him. They smiled up at him and he smiled back with affection
and with a patience beyond what most could summon.
I stepped out of the boat and into the coolness of the
water. A few tugs and the craft was moored securely. James and John had
constructed it from material scavenged from older abandoned vessels. They had
done it in secret, to surprise Zebedee, and Zebedee was proud of his sons;
proud of how they had honed their ship building skills and of the capable nets
they had woven ... But, what would he feel today, when they returned
empty-handed?
The sand brought my thoughts back to the present; it felt
good, bringing its relief, as it found its way around the straps of my sandals.
I stepped out of the water, and the solidness welcomed me. I could use a hot
drink and a place to lie down and sleep, to forget the futility of this night. There had been nothing, no musht for the market.
I had returned empty-handed and empty-hearted. What good was I? Who would
believe now that I knew anything about fishing. Yet,
it was my life. It was all I knew, and still it wasn’t enough.
My thoughts were interrupted by the man approaching us.
He gestured at my craft and I knew what he wanted. The crowds were pressing in
as we got into the boat and pushed a ways offshore, deep enough to discourage
them from wading in. I sank into the stern
of the hull, my hand on the keel, holding her steady; my head and heart, weary.
He spoke and they listened and fell silent against the
backdrop of the waves that rhythmically slapped the shore as the boat rocked
forward and back. His voice was soothing as
the waves, rising and falling.
I’m a fisherman. I am. And, a good one. Peace grabbed hold of a root that came from
somewhere within me, and it grew until I knew that tomorrow would be all right.
There would be a catch.
He glanced down and smiled at me, gently. He knew. The
night and all of its cares were forgotten, somehow fading until they dispelled
like mist in the early-morning light. And when
he had finished speaking, the crowds dispersed. They were satisfied … full. Then he turned and spoke to me and to James and
John, as well.
“Push out into deep water and let down your nets for a
catch.” It was neither a question nor a command, yet it was compelling.
I looked at him intently, hesitating … “But-” I began, but saw the look, a look that was
certain, reassuring, and calm—so calm that I was pulled almost irresistibly by
it … but still, I had a choice.
I nodded, hesitating once more as he smiled. We had fished all night, hunting for that elusive
shoal, but we would do it once more, at His bidding.
James and John appeared slightly bewildered, but they,
too, had heard this man speak and had been there, too, when the blind saw and
the lame walked.
The sky had cleared enough for the sun to peak through,
and the air felt warmer as we set our backs to the oars. We rowed out a little
farther into the deep water where we had waited, miserably, the night before,
wondering if another night would be spent in vain.
Then, we let down the nets, as we had done hundreds of
times before—we would have to wash them again—and willed ourselves to believe.
Oh, how we wanted to believe …
“Look!” I heard my own voice cry out in surprise; then
James’ and John’s, in reply, almost simultaneously, “The net!”
“Draw them in!”
The sight was surreal and almost comical as the weight of
the net caused water to spill over the side of the boat. Together (it was
always together) we heaved our scaly cargo into the boat. I had never seen such a thing. Never in my life
had I had such a catch, and, in minutes. I began to laugh. James and John were
laughing and shouting, a well. We knew. We had doubted, but somewhere deep
inside was this knowing that rose up until it overflowed like the fish.
He stood watching, laughing at our surprise and delight,
as night after night of disappointment and weariness fell away … He knew.
We drew near, and He stepped closer and smiled. “From now
on,” He said, laughing, “you’ll be catching men.”
We didn’t know exactly what He meant by that, but we wanted
to know, and we knew we would follow Him anywhere.
But, there was something more, deeper … a knowledge that
somehow we would never be the same.
My interpretation of Luke 5 is that it’s not necessarily that He asks us to do
something new, but that He asks us to do it with Him and for Him. When what we
do is directed by Him, it has meaning and purpose and power, and a newness
about it … Peter, James, and John were faithful men. He saw in them
faithfulness and diligence. They were devoted. Focused. He took those qualities
that were there and He breathed life into them … “Behold, I make all things new
…” Then He showed them what could happen when they followed His lead.
The
joy of nets overflowing with fish was nothing compared to the joy of catching
men. When His desires become our desires, we are transformed, and others are
transformed.
Simon,
James, and John were faithful in both waiting and following. They were ordinary
men whose lives became extraordinary as they obeyed, as they listened, as they
allowed Him to reshape their lives.
This
can’t be taught, as much as it has to be experienced. And, it can only be
experienced with Him. It is in the experience, not the telling, that lives are
changed. Someone can inspire you, but you must take the next step. He breathes
life into you, but you must inhale and exhale. He will show you the path, but
you must put one foot in front of the other, step over the roots … follow it to
its destination.
Someone
cannot walk the path for you. They can point the way, tell you of its glorious
beauty, of its richness. They can even reflect the glory in their lives, cause
you to wonder. But, the journey is one you must take; it’s one you must
discover. “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” It’s in the tasting. Do not be
content to sit and look and wonder, only, but be ready to push out into deep
water, let down the nets, and see what He will do.
If I
could urge you with just one word, it would be “Follow.”
Follow
…