Matthew 4:18-22 & John 21: 4-11

Fishing

Sitting quietly in a small rowboat on a still lake at first light, your line in the water, you survey the lake around you and it is all dark and still. You have another sip of coffee poured from your thermos, and suddenly the floating bobbin begins bouncing. You put your coffee down, and suddenly the bobbin disappears underwater. You jump to and hang on to the rod and reel with joy and amazement. Something deep in those black waters has taken the bait and now your fishing skills all come into play. You give it some slack, you reel in, you let it run—your experience and instincts intertwine as you hope beyond hope to be lifting that big boy into the boat.

That kind of fishing takes real skill and style. Fly fishing seems to be at the top of that game. No bait, just a painstakingly crafted fly tied onto the end of a tapered line. In your hip waders, you take your spot in a Montana stream and throw the line back and forth like a whip-master and send that fly directly over the dark spot where you know the big trout like to rest. It takes enormous skill and patience to fish that way and you only catch fish one at a time.

The most successful fisherman, like the Disciples in the text, don’t use rod or reel but nets. At this moment there are hundreds of boats in the Alaskan seas hauling up net-full after netful of shiny fish—salmon, pollock, and halibut—by the ton.

We now hear tell of fishing by the internet. That’s right, you can go online and fish by robot, giving the rod and reel whatever commands you feel are pertinent, tapping them into your smart phone.

evangelism, like fishing

Evangelism, like fishing, is made up of many styles. We’ve seen revivals and massive crusades designed to bring people in by the hundreds or thousands. We know of Christians who, on a regular basis, easily talk about their faith, dropping their line in the water to see who or what bites. And we have our version of fly fishermen, who painstakingly prepare and zero in on one at a time with care and deliberation. Melville’s Moby Dick gives us the story of Ahab, whose obsession to catch that one, big whale consumed him entirely.

Evangelism, like fishing, can be long and slow or nab, nab, nab—like catching goldfish in an aquarium. The style depends upon time, place, and the fish.

fishing Ancient Galilee

In Galilee, much of the fishing that took place involved netting in small fish that run together in large schools. The ancient town of Magdala prospered under the fishing industry for this kind of sardines. In our text, the Disciples are fishing on the northern shore—a few miles away from Magdala—and as fisherman, they know there are no fish to be caught that morning. Sometimes, you just know.

Jesus, unrecognized and standing on the shore, asks them: “Let me guess: you’ve caught nothing, eh boys?” There response is a one word depressive: no.

“Why don’t you try throwing your net on the other side of the boat?” says Jesus.

Keep in mind that these are multi-generational fishermen. Their fathers and fathers’ fathers were fisherman. Their entire sense of self may have come from knowing the lake and knowing how to fish. And keeping in mind that they do not recognize Jesus, and they were grieving Jesus’ death, would they not have found this suggestion a little insulting, if not offensive?  They could have said something like, “Look, pal, we’re not boys and we have been fishing these waters for generations. It doesn’t matter what side you throw the net over—we could just move the boat a few feet—so…thanks, but no thanks. Not to be rude, but why don’t you mind your own business and leave the fishing to us?”

Maybe they were still depressed with grief, but they humor the man on the shore and—what the heck—throw the nets to the other side.  What do you know? The net is packed with large fish (not sardines)

Peter Swims to Breakfast

Next we have a comical scene. John says to Peter, “It’s The Lord!” and Peter, flustered, puts on his tunic and jumps into the water to swim to shore. For ancients, you were considered naked if you were in your skivvies or loincloth. Peter, realizing that it was in fact Jesus on the shore, is so eager to get to him that he won’t wait for the boat to row in. What is more, in order that he not dishonor Jesus by appearing before him “naked,” he puts on his cloak. It’s not hard to imagine how much more difficult swimming might be draped in a long robe, but we might additionally imagine Peter flailing along, entangled his in his robe, as he desperately crawl strokes no faster than the boat is rowed. The other disciples look down at him in the water and offer mock encouragements: “Come on, Peter—swim faster; we’re passing you!” Such is the result of being eager, joyous, and terribly flustered all at once—which is an apt description of the Disciples in general at this point.

When the get to shore, Jesus already has fish and bread roasting on the grill. I find this fascinating: Jesus already had the food for them, but he invites them to bring the fish they’ve caught into the meal as well. Jesus doesn’t need their fish, but includes them. This is the first key point of the narrative: Jesus does not need the Disciples (or us) to provide anything whatsoever. The Disciples would be fools to think of the fish they pulled in as “theirs” or even as their own contribution to the meal—Jesus put every one of those 153 fish into the net—but God in his grace invites us to add our works to his.

Beginning to count the Catch

Be clear: God doesn’t need us! He doesn’t need the Church or our best evangelical programs. God is absolutely self-sufficient; he needs nothing, but he gives us a share in his work which is also a grace to us. In the end of things, when our “good works” are counted up, we’ll rightly acknowledge that every good work was God’s work in us, through us, and among us to such a degree that we will have to say, “But we did nothing; Lord, you did it all!” Then we shall—rightly and justly—cast down our golden crowns before him to his glory.

I remember trying to teach my nephew how to write his name when he was quite little. He took a blue crayon in his little hand, and as I enveloped his hand in mine, I wrote his name in clear, smooth, script. As soon as he saw the result, he got excited and ran the paper to his mother saying, “Look what I did!” It’s kind of funny and also slightly insulting to Uncle Noel.

This same lesson applies to evangelicals and evangelicalism in general.

Wrongly Counting the Fish

When a fisherman makes a great catch, what is one guaranteed behavior that will follow? Yes, he’ll brag about it!  Imagine the stories these disciples—sons and grandsons of fishermen who had worked these waters for generations—would tell about hauling in 153 large fish without breaking the net! Bragging rights galore, right? Well, no—they didn’t really catch fish at all, they just hauled them in. Jesus put those fish in the net, they knew.

What is the number one deadly sin? Pride. 

Pride is the bane of  evangelicalism as well. I once met with other pastors following a city “crusade” and felt fairly appalled by the way they talked over pie and coffee:

“Whoo Boy! 153 decisions for Christ! HIGH FIVES!  We really reached ‘em (with God’s help, of course)! This is the best yet—we’re on fire!” etc.

For some, evangelical fire is more about themselves than the mission, more about patting themselves on the back for a job well done than serving their Lord. For these, the Church and its mission are reduced to a means to satisfy their own need for success and self-validation. The great spiritual danger in this is that praise and gratitude can take a secondary position to evangelical pride and self-congratulations.

At the other end of the spectrum is something like indifference—something Presbyterians are accused of regularly, largely due to our insistence that God chooses whom he chooses, which can unfortunately lead to over-passivity.

The Path of Humility & Care

In opposition to the dangerous extremes of pride and indifference, we would do well to focus on their opposites: humility and care.

Christians of all stripes do well to repudiate pridefulness in all its forms. Jesus has set our path by his humble service and we too approximate his character best through humility.

Furthermore, as indifference is the antithesis of care—and perhaps even love—we do well to increase our care. The great thing about caring is that it is a choice: we can choose to care.

In humility, we acknowledge that every fish in the net is from God. We do not celebrate evangelical success; we attribute it all to God’s work and God’s glory. We refuse to count the fish for our own sake or the bragging rights of ourselves, our congregation, or our denomination. In humility, we surrender to The Lord and trust in his Holy Spirit (not in our effectiveness or clever programming). We wait upon the Spirit and we go wherever the Spirit calls us.

In humility, we acknowledge that there is not one kind of evangelicalism, but many, and we refuse to dumb down the calling to one or two specific ways of reaching out. I would say, inspired by the text, that there are at least 153 ways of reaching out with God’s good news.

In choosing to care, we serve enthusiastically. When prompted by the Spirit, we act, and as we acknowledge there are many ways to reach people, we try many.

Strictly speaking, the reality of Hell is not part of Christian doctrine. We have no doctrine to say who will go there, though we do proclaim that Jesus saves from Hell. Hell exists, but beyond that we don’t know much and ought not to speculate too much.

But just knowing that it is a possibility should put the fire under us to share with others God’s good news. I don’t mean by common manipulation—heating up Hell and scaring people is not the gospel—but that our care should increase for our friends, strangers, and even our enemies.

Our Works Join Christ’s

Just as Jesus invites the Disciples to bring “their” fish to the grill, so Jesus invites us to present our “works” to join his. This is a high privilege and it is also our calling. We are so blessed to be included.

The final line is that we should all be energetically inclined to give God all the glory for every good thing that happens. For every sinner who repents, we praise God for convicting her heart. For every outsider who comes forward in faith, we praise God for giving her the gift of faith.

Praising God is the necessary antidote to pride. Praising God drains pride from the soul and re-centers reality around God, as it truly is. Praising God replaces self-gratification and self-congratulation, and subverts any effort to use evangelism or the church as means of feeling better about our souls. We trust in Christ for all things, and not at all in ourselves.

And that is the same invitation we offer to the world:  Trust in Christ. Trust in Christ completely and not at all in yourselves. Surrender your heart to him today and become a new creature by his grace. There are many ways to come to God, and they come to him through Christ alone.

May our care be set to full flame as we fall down before the Father asking him to use us however he will. May the ears of our hearts be open to hearing the Holy Spirit’s whispers in order that we might eagerly obey. And may we share the name of Jesus freely and selflessly as we serve his glory in the world he is even now reconciling to himself! †