The Called Ones - February 10, 2019

The New Revised Standard Version Jesus Calls the First Disciples

5 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 were 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.

Introduction

Over the last few weeks, we’ve heard stories of Jesus’ calling — Jesus in the temple, speaking the prophets words. Jesus, the light to the nations, owning his calling of bringing good news and liberation to a world in need.

We want to figure out what it means to know Jesus as Lord — as the light that actually brings life to our world. We have heard this good news about Jesus being the fulfilment of the prophets word, the hope and promise for us even now.

But we encounter a transition problem: How are we supposed to be involved in this? How are we brought into this life? And what, are we meant to jump ship and run away from all that we’ve been doing, even the faithful life we’ve been living, if we suddenly encounter Jesus in a new way? Are we supposed to really leave it all behind?

The Sinful Peter

The problem of hearing our own calling is seen straight on in the way Peter responds to Jesus, who has come to preach at the shoreline and on the boat in the lake. People have gathered, a gravitational pull is developing around Jesus because of the good news he is preaching.

Imagine Peter there, perhaps thinking a few things: Wow, this guy really speaks well. Look at all those people surrounding him. Such charisma. I bet he’s a really well behaved dude. I bet he’s clean, ritually pure, because he seems to know the story of God like a rabbi would. I bet he washes his hands a lot. I stink like fish.

Peter voices his concerns to Jesus — “Go away, for I am a sinful man.” (vs. 8)

vs. 8 — Go away, for I am a sinful man.

How often do we say this? Or how often do we say “I have no need of you, I can do this on my own?” Or “Go away, don’t try to tell me how awful I am.”

Peter names what I think many of us carry as resistance to the good news. It can’t be for me. Either I’m not good enough or I don’t buy it.

But I wonder, as we get started today, if we’re missing part of his statement — we look at Peter and think he’s naming his utter sinfulness as a representative of all our sinfulness.

What if he’s testing Jesus? What if he really wants to see if this guy’s the real deal, if he won’t back down, if he’ll live love and not just talk love.

Jesus’ abundant reply

Jesus sees through Peter’s self-deprecating comment. Jesus doesn’t reply with, “Oh, no you’re not, you’re great, don’t be so hard on yourself. Listen, I’m not all that perfect either, but that’s ok.”

Nope. Jesus doesn’t throw fluffy words or a simple plan Peter’s way.

Instead, Jesus models abundant generosity, doing something so generative and awakening and pulling that Peter and his friends can’t deny that Jesus is the real deal.

Jesus fills up the nets with fish! He fills their nets to the point of breaking. He gives them life to the fullest, well-being and sustenance beyond their wildest dreams. He doesn’t throw words their way — he acts in love and sets the fishermen free.

It is here, out of this abundant reply, that we get to the heart of the text and the true alignment of what it means for us to hear the call and respond.

The call liberates Peter from his need to qualify himself. And it sets us all on a totally new trajectory — Come, follow me, let’s find the life and share it with others.

Is Peter’s request for Jesus to leave out of self interest or out of his reverence for Jesus’ miracle?

Jesus’ words have drawn a crowd and they recognize his power.

Christ takes the initiative to call Peter — helping him and the other fishermen with their empty net problem. He doesn’t require something of Peter first — rather, Jesus helps him and then offers a call to a different priority in life.

Christ risks encounter — and it calls forth more life from Peter and his friends. I wonder...

Can we risk encounters with the other, in hopes that we have some good life to share with them?

Can we risk being encounter, in the possibility that the other might offer us the good life?

Can we risk embracing calling, trusting that if the call is from Christ, it will bring the good life?

Do we get hung up on needing to be fishers of men and miss that Christ is calling us into a new kind of gravitational field, one where as we live the good life, we encounter others in a way that will bring connection on its own? Maybe Jesus really does make us “good looking and fun to be around.” :)

Do we get hung up on needing to be fishers of men and miss that Christ is calling us into a new kind of gravitational field, one where as we live the good life, we encounter others in a way that will bring connection on its own? Maybe Jesus really does make us “good looking and fun to be around.” :)

Do we get hung up on needing to be fishers of men and miss that Christ is calling us into a new kind of gravitational field, one where as we live the good life, we encounter others in a way that will bring connection on its own? Maybe Jesus really does make us “good looking and fun to be around.” :)

Jesus’ call leads to an obedience and loving way of life that resonates out of that echo of hope. He has spoken of the good news and the hearers cannot help but follow his voice to something new.

Invitation and Response

Christ invites, we respond. We invite, Christ responds? Mutual relationship.

Fully Alive

In a moment, I want to offer a brief, yet important study in translation and phrasing. But first, a story to illustrate the problem we’re working with here. I imagine you’re familiar with this passage in some way, shape, or form if you’ve brushed up against the Gospel stories of Jesus in your life: I’ll make you fishers of men (or people). It’s a very recognizable part of the Christian story — we are sent out to catch people for Jesus. To claim members in the Kingdom’s citizenship. To gather up the lost, to secure salvation for the other.

Certainly, this isn’t an incorrect sentiment. As followers of Jesus, we are meant to share the good news and invite others into it. But if we get stuck with only this concept of catching people, it leaves a lot to be desired as a metaphor.

My heart sinks as I think about how this phrase has been applied. (Don’t worry, I’ve got a different translation-take on it that is much more life affirming…but first, a story). In high school, I was connected in with a large, evangelical youth organization that worked really hard to make the Christian story accessible and relatable to teenagers. They did this through fun, games, relevant marketing, amazing Summer camps that were super-high production. I am absolutely a product of that ministry and I thank God for it, as it was part of affirming my call into pastoral ministry.

However, one of the heartbreaking things I recollect upon is the high importance this group put upon getting teens to make a public, documented, confirmed profession of faith. Again — this was awesome, they were encouraging people to commit to Jesus. But the problem was, after getting kids into the net, as it were, there was often very little follow through. Ok, we’ve met our numbers, great. But what about how the kid goes home? What about how they face the complexities of adolescence and young adulthood? Who comes alongside them?

You know what happens to a fish that’s caught and then left in the boat? Or left out to thaw for too long? Or not prepared properly? It isn’t good anymore.

What happened with some of my friends who went through this ministry is, in my opinion, that they were good numbers and metrics in terms of “wins”, “catches”, or “saves.” But the sad thing is they were then left on their own to figure out life. The fishers had caught the men, but then they left them out to dry.

You may sense that I have some sadness and lament about this. I do. Because I don’t believe it has to be that way. And there is a liberating reading of this text that opens up another option.

Rather than “catching people”, the Greek words used in this text actually point more to something like to “saving people while still alive.” They aren’t food to be consumed. No, they’re actually being saved from death or awakened from slumber and then brought into a way of life that is affirming, liberating, and calls them to further growth. To be “saved alive” is to hint at freeing someone from death, but also calling them further into the fullness of life. To be “fully alive” is so deeply at the heart of the Christian call, the Christian life. In Jesus’ invitation to Peter, there is an echo of this calling, a hopeful “coming into being” that Jesus is offering.

We, gratefully, have the opportunity live more deeply into these phrases as we unpack them. This text invites us to rethink how discipleship happens today and for how we live lives of love which liberate and call others into fullness as well. Not only does this text open up what it means to be saved and connected into the life of Jesus, it also draws us into what living that life “fully alive” can look like in the long run, how it manifests in a life of fullness, of commitment to the way of Jesus, of discipleship unto the flourishing life of all creation. This text is rich with expectation and anticipation that God is out ahead of these newly called disciples, preparing a way of life where they get to participate in God’s action of opening up lives, awakening people, bringing “full life” to all who hear the good news.

Rethinking Discipleship

“Come and follow me” has the connotation of being solely devoted to the pilgrim’s path, one where we leave everything behind for the sake of the gospel. This is true, but can also cloud what it means to remain in relationship with people in our lives who we love and are called to keep serving, even after we’ve experienced a life-changing experience like hearing the call.

What if we thought about discipleship differently? It absolutely calls us to a whole new way of living, with a new gravitational center to life. But instead of up and leaving, what if it requires a deeper internal shift, instead? Jesus calls the fishermen by giving them a miraculous haul in their nets — right where they are, the thing they had grown discouraged by, with Jesus’ power in their lives now yields the kind of results they had been hoping for.

What if, through discipleship to Jesus, those men learned to fish differently? I bet a lot of them kept fishing, even after they began to follow Jesus. What if, instead of for the simple profit and need to put food on the table, they began to see their fishing craft as a benefit to the world, food for the hungry, sustenance and economic benefit for their cities, which would flourish if they kept up their work. What if they realized the impact they could make for the love of God’s kingdom by deepening their commitment to each other, to lifting nets in community, to mending each other’s boats out of Christ-like love?

I imagine a fishing village filled with disciples of Christ. Instead of brawling over who got to troll a part of the lake, I imagine partners in the endeavor. Instead of cutting someone else’s nets so they lost fish, I imagine these fishermen working together to increase their collective yield.

Becoming fishers of men does not have to mean abandoning the people we love. In fact, discipleship in Christ’s way invites us to find a “good life” where our neighbors, our families, our whole communities can flourish. By following the way of Jesus we become change leaders — those willing to help make other’s lives easier.

In our attempt to consider what it means to be called to be disciples ourselves, we need to rethink it. Instead of a burden we take upon ourselves to get out of the boat and leave town, many of us need to hear this calling as an affirmation to respond to Christ’s work right in front of us. To love our neighbors — scrape the snow off your neighbors car, take a hot meal to a friend who is sick, share the good life you have with others who are lonely and isolated. To proclaim good news — kind words to a flustered young mother at the grocery store, gentle reply to the guy who thinks you took his drink at Starbucks, patient listening to the lonely-hearted professional sitting at the restaurant bar after work. An open door of welcome into your home. The gift of time to mentor, to serve, to give back. To be disciples means to share that good life we have found, that liberating life we have found. We fish for people out of this grounded, centered, expansive place in ourselves that has discovered life to the fullest in Jesus.

The good life, life to the fullest — in Christ, you’ve found that your nets are filled. In Christ, you’ve found community. In Christ, you’ve found forgiveness and compassion, even for all your faults (hear the echo of Peter’s words “Lord, go away, for I am a sinful man.” and Christ’s response of love and gift-giving. Unnecessary generosity. Miraculous providing for a stranger’s needs. Becoming called ones who are fully alive and finding our own abundant reply.

Let’s pray.