Luke 5.1-11
1 Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, 2 he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets.
3 He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. 4 When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch."
5 Simon answered, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets."
6 When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. 7 So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.
8 But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!"
9 For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; 10 and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who are partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people."
11 When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.
I've always wondered whether Peter knew Jesus, or at least knew
about Jesus, before they met this day. If not, Peter seems terribly compliant
for a total stranger. But anyone who drew large crowds would have had a
well-known reputation, so even if Peter and Jesus had never met before, Peter
had surely heard plenty of gossip and rumors and reports about Jesus of
Nazareth.
Jesus asked Peter a question then gave a command. First, he asked
to use his boat as a speaker’s platform. Peter could have said no. But Jesus
did not ask Peter to sail into deep water and deploy his nets. He ordered him.
But the command was also a promise. Jesus didn't tell Peter to
sail to deep water, let down the nets and maybe you'll get a catch of fish. No,
all of this is matter of fact to Jesus: Sail the boat, let down the nets, catch
the fish.
Perhaps the certainty of Jesus' voice compelled Peter to comply.
The first word he said was, "Master," so Peter willingly put himself
under Jesus' authority. He told Jesus it wouldn’t work but he would try it
anyway.
So Peter and crew sailed to deep water and let down their nets.
Right away they caught so many fish that the nets began to break under the
strain. Peter called the boat of his partner to come help. By the time it got
there the fish were so many that they filled both boats to the point that the
boat started sinking.
What was Peter going to do with all those fish?
That question was not actually on Peter's mind. He fell at Jesus'
knees and told him, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful
man!"
Peter would later be the first disciple to announce that Jesus was
the Christ, the Son of the living God. The germ of that confession formed on a
boat foundering from the weight of the fish Jesus caused to be caught. Yet
there had been no dramatic command from Jesus' lips; he never stretched his
hands over the sea and yelled, "Fish! Come forth!" Jesus simply gave
three simple commands, all to Peter, not the fish: sail the boat, let down the
nets, catch the fish.
Peter knew who Jesus was all right. And Peter knew who he was
himself. He and Jesus were like water and oil to one another in the holiness
department and Peter knew it. Jesus knew it, too, but Jesus knew something
Peter didn't. Peter saw only his own sin. Jesus knew that inside every sinful
person is righteous potential.
Invoking that potential was the trick. Suppose Jesus had gone
aboard Peter's boat to preach his sermon to the people on the lakeshore, just
as the passage relates, and then, instead of telling Peter to sail the boat,
let down the nets and catch the fish, Jesus had merely said, "Come and
follow me." Would Peter have gone with him? I think not.
What was different about the enormous catch that made Peter leave
everything behind? It was not that Peter realized he was a sinful man; he
already knew that, though after witnessing the fishing miracle he knew it more
urgently than before. It's not that Peter suddenly knew Jesus to be a holy man
worthy of obedience: Peter had already called Jesus, "Master."
I think what made Peter follow Christ after the catch when he
almost certainly would never have followed him beforehand was that Jesus gave
abundantly to Peter before Peter
confessed his sinfulness.
"While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. That proves
his loves for us."
There is a story of Fiorello LaGuardia, mayor of New York City
during the Great Depression and all of World War II. He was a colorful
character who used to ride the New York City fire trucks, raid speakeasies with
the police department, take entire orphanages to baseball games, and whenever
the New York newspapers were on strike, he would go on the radio and read the
Sunday funnies to the kids. One bitterly cold night in January of 1935, the
mayor turned up at a night court that served the poorest ward of the city. LaGuardia
dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench himself.
A tattered old woman was brought before him, charged with stealing
a loaf of bread. She told LaGuardia that her daughter's husband had deserted
her, her daughter was sick, and her two grandchildren were starving. But the
shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, refused to drop the charges.
"It's a real bad neighborhood, your Honor," the man told the mayor.
"She's got to be punished to teach other people around here a
lesson."
LaGuardia sighed. He turned to the woman and said, "I've got
to punish you. The law makes no exceptions – ten dollars or ten days in
jail." But even as he pronounced sentence, the mayor was already reaching
into his pocket. He extracted a bill and said, "Here is the ten-dollar
fine which I now remit; and furthermore I am going to fine everyone in this
courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a woman has to steal bread so
that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Bailiff, collect the fines and give them to
the defendant."
The following day the New York City newspapers reported that
$47.50 – worth 973 dollars today - was turned over to a bewildered old lady who
had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her starving grandchildren, fifty cents of
that amount being contributed by the red‑faced grocery store owner, while some
seventy petty criminals, people with traffic violations, and New York City
policemen, each of whom had just paid fifty cents for the privilege of doing
so, gave the mayor a standing ovation.
Do you think that the grandmother voted for LaGuardia next
election?
It was Jesus' grace, undeserved and in fact unasked for, that
overwhelmed Peter. So, Peter fell at Jesus' knees, protesting that he didn't
deserve the abundance Christ offered. Jesus said don't worry, from now on you
will be catching people for me. Jesus was a fisher, too, but he fished for
sinners like Peter, like you and like me.
Here’s another fish story by novelist Frederick Forsyth called,
“The Emperor.” It told of Roger Murgatroyd and his wife, Edna, who went to the
former French colony of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean for a vacation one
summer. Myrgatroyd, a bank branch manager, had never done anything particularly
challenging in his life. He became intrigued at stories of an immense swordfish
in the offshore waters. The Emperor, as the locals called the swordfish, had
often been hooked but never caught, even after titanic battles lasting hours.
Experienced deep-sea fishermen were certain that the swordfish was of
world-record size: twelve hundred pounds and at least twenty feet long.
Myrgatroyd decides to give deep-sea fishing a try and as luck
would have it, he hooks the Emperor about 9 a.m. By noon Myrgatroyd's lips are
cracked from sun and spray. His arms are burning with exhaustion from fighting
the great fish. Two hours later the charter owner, Kilian, pleads to relieve
him at the line for awhile.
"Myrgatroyd opened his mouth to speak. A split in his lip
cracked wide and a trickle of blood ran onto his chin. The cork grip of the
pole was becoming slick with the blood from his palms.
"My fish," he croaked. "My fish."
More time passed, reeling in and out, keeping the line taut so the
Emperor couldn't spit out the hook. "His vision was blurring ... And his
body was one searing ache. Shafts of sharper pain ran through his right
shoulder where he had torn a muscle. ...
"For another ninety minutes they fought it out. ...
Myrgatroyd's exhaustion was moving close to delirium. Muscles in his calves and
thighs flickered crazily like light bulbs before they fuse."
After eight hours, though, the Emperor had nothing left. He wore
out only slightly before Myrgatroyd would have. Myrgatroyd reeled in the line
until Kilian could seize the steel trace that held the hook. Then he slumped in
his chair, spent. The boat's crew heaved the huge fish toward the deck, where
Myrgatroyd suddenly realized, shocked, that a boy was about to plunge a gaff
hook into the Emperor's head.
Myrgatroyd's "voice came out more a raucous croak than a
shout. "No!"
"The boy froze and looked down. Myrgatroyd was on his hands
and knees looking at the tackle box. On top lay a pair of wire cutters. He took
them in the finger and thumb of his left hand and pressed them into the mashed
meat of his right palm. With his free hand he hauled himself upright and leaned
across the stern.
"The Emperor was lying just beneath him, exhausted almost to
the point of death. ... From two feet away the fish stared back at Myrgatroyd.
... it was alive but had no strength left to fight. ...
"Deliberately, Myrgatroyd placed the jaws of the cutters on
either side of the steel trace where it was spliced into the hook. He squeezed.
Blood came out of his palm and ran into the salt water over the marlin's head.
He squeezed again and the wire parted.
"The Emperor stared at Myrgatroyd as another wave washed over
him. He shook his tired old head and pushed his spike into the water. The great
crescent tail rose and fell and pushed the body forward and down. The tail was
the last they saw of him, driving the marlin back beneath the waves."
Kilian turned the boat toward shore. When they docked a boat boy
jumped off and ran to the village. Kilian secured the vessel, then helped
Myrgatroyd walk onto the pier. "The hem of his shorts had fallen to below
his knees and his shirt flapped open about him, dark with dried sweat. A number
of villagers were lining the narrow jetty, so they had to walk in single file.
"The first person in line was Monsieur Patient. Myrgatroyd
nodded to him and smiled. "Merci," he said.
The old man pulled his hat from head. "Salut, Maitre,"
he replied.
Myrgatroyd walked slowly up the jetty. Each of the villagers
bobbed his head and said, "Salut, Maitre." They reached the end of
the planking and stepped onto the gravel of the village street. There was a
large crowd of villagers grouped there. "Salut, salut, salut, Maitre"
they said quietly.
"What are they saying?" Myrgatroyd whispered to Kilian.
"They're greeting you," came the answer. "They're
calling you a master fisherman."
"Because I caught the Emperor?"
The captain laughed softly. "No Englishman, because you gave
him his life back."
Do you remember when you got hooked by Christ? And do you remember
that he gave you your life back? He suffered immensely while you and I fought
him, but we finally yielded. And then an amazing thing: he let us go because
the grace of Christ gives us life – our true life, more abundant than ever.
Jesus said, “If the Son of God makes you free, you will be free indeed.” And so
we are.
