Restore

Jesus had died and then appeared and then disappeared again. What was happening? The disciples were confused and baffled and amazed and waiting on this Spirit Jesus mentioned to arrive and wondering “Now what?”

What does resurrection and restoration look like after Easter has come and gone? I realize we are about to be in Advent, which makes the question even more important.

Where do you go when you can’t go back to the beginning and you don’t know the way forward? According to Peter, you go fishing. When you are unsure, why not return to what you know how to do, to whatever worked before? To “it’s always been done this way.”

To fishing he returned and to no avail. Nothing happened when suddenly he hears a voice say “Children, you have no fish have you?” Here is Jesus stating the obvious. But they don’t recognize him. And he tells them to cast the net on the right side of the boat and they will find some. They do and suddenly the boat is overwhelmed with fish, 153 of them to be exact. It is so heavy they have to drag it to shore.

Cast your nets on the other side.

The disciples didn’t suddenly forget how to fish. They knew what they were doing, but the Jesus says to cast the nets on the other side of the boat. I wonder as we consider how God is asking us to follow Him this next year with our time, our talent, our gifts, our service and our witness, how might we cast our nets on the other side of the boat?

What might it look like for us to cast our nets differently in terms of the ways we witness, the time we give, the tithe we contribute, and the how we serve and reach out to our neighborhood and community. Is there something that on the surface seems fruitless but beneath is abundant life.

One of the things I enjoy most as a pastor is when laity come to me with these big and beautiful ideas and dreams. Dreams that I never would have dreamed that I possibly haven’t done before. Dreams that seem like casting the net on the other side. I cannot wait to share more with you in the coming months about some of the dreams that our members are dreaming and how we as a church might support them. What I love most is encouraging these dreams, fanning the flame of the holy Spirit at work among God’s people and watching fish turn up when we least expect it.

153 fish. 5 loaves and 2 fish. Water into wine. The sign of abundance was the sign of the presence of Jesus.

Karoline Lewis says “Jesus’s fourth resurrection appearance is to reveal that grace upon grace is true. By definition, grace upon grace cannot be restrained to a passage, to a gospel, and that’s the point of John 21. To show, by a ridiculous amount of fish, that God’s grace cannot be limited to the incarnation, to the crucifixion, to the tomb, to the resurrection… Grace upon grace means a heck of a lot of fish when you least expect it.” Karoline says “This is the resurrection story we need. Desperately. All of us. That we will, indeed, experience the truth of the resurrection (and restoration) beyond the empty tomb. That Jesus will always show up on the shore, will invite us to share a meal once again, because abundance really means abundance when it comes to God. Resurrection is abundance.”

Resurrection abundance surprises us and leaves us saying “it is the Lord.”

When we dream dreams of how this community of faith can bear the light of Christ and create a space for people to belong, become, and be disciples, we need to dream dreams of bursting nets and breakfast on the beach.

We often give Peter such a hard time. Peter the one who denies Jesus. But what if there is more happening here than the restoration of their relationship? In John’s gospel, Peter doesn’t deny that he knows Jesus. He is asked “are you his disciple?” He denies who he is in Jesus. This is key for Peter who earlier was named the rock. Notice Jesus doesn’t show up and chide Peter. He feeds him. He asks 3 times “Do you love me?” Each time as Peter responds, Jesus says “feed my sheep.” Jesus feeds Peter. Then he instructs him to feed others. Jesus reminds Peter of who he is meant to be, perhaps someone he didn’t feel very much like at all or even worth of: a disciple.

Suddenly the last supper turns into breakfast on the beach and Peter is hearing Jesus say “follow me.” His “I am not” and fleeing are turning into “Lord you know that I love you” and a restored disciple’s heart.

Karoline Lewis says “Peter needs another invitation, an invitation to participate in and make the abundance happen. Why? Because “come and see” in John is to be the presence of Jesus when Jesus is gone.”

How are you being invited to participate, to join in and make the abundance happen?

Bob Goff has a beautiful tradition where each year they have a New Year’s Day parade with their neighbors who teach them about hope, love, and acceptance. For nearly 30 years they have carried on this tradition. But there is one rule: everybody participates. Nobody watches. This isn’t a parade where anyone stands on the sidelines. This is a parade where everyone is included, everyone joins in, and everyone makes the abundance happen. In the fellowship of the church, the parade of God’s light is something everyone is invited to join in and bear witness to.

You get to be part of making the abundance happen. On the tree in the narthex are children’s wish lists and needs for Christmas. As you select ornaments from this tree and go buy presents, your participation makes the abundance happen.

Maybe here on commitment Sunday we all need to hear that question “do you love me?” Maybe we need to envision what it means to cast our nets on the other side. Maybe we need to ponder what sheep God may be calling us to care for and feed. Maybe we need to sit at the feet of Jesus and remember that who and whose we are. Maybe a heart for stewardship flows out of a heart of discipleship.

Maybe resurrection abundance unfolds in pocket-sized ordinary moments of our days.

As Sarah Are shares in her poem “Pocket-Sized Moments”

I wonder if we will know when restoration comes.

Will it feel big and dramatic like a summer rain?

Joyful and overwhelming, like an end-of-war parade?

Maybe.

Or will it be small?

Will it be pocket-sized moments, like wishing on stars,

The sun through the curtains, or lightning bugs in the yard?

Maybe.

I don’t know how God will restore this world,

Just like I don’t know how to make the summer rain.

But I do know how to say I’m sorry.

And I do know how to love with all of me.

And I know how to say, “This cup is for you,”

And I know how to taste grace in grape juice.

So on the off-chance that restoration will be small,

Pocket-sized moments of love for all,

I will bake bread and save a seat for you.

I will say I’m sorry and say I love you too.

I will plant gardens and look for fireflies.

I will say prayers on shooting stars at night.

And when the sun shines through my curtain windows,

Remind me to open them wide.

I would hate to miss God’s parade,

These holy ordinary days.