When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind
lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest
branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them
in their clinging to the earth.
— From The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
Word about Jesus has spread so much that large crowds now gather to hear him teach. Luke tells us that there are so many of them there along the Lake of Gennesaret, that they are pushing Jesus closer and closer to the water. Finally, he gets into one of the boats docked there, the one belonging to Simon Peter, and he asked him to put it out a bit into the water. Peter obliges, and Jesus continues to teach the crowd from the boat.
A sermon based on Luke 5:1-11.
Luke is not interested in what Jesus was teaching on that day. He simply tells us Peter and his partners were washing out the nets when Jesus climbed into the boat. And then, when he finished his teaching, he turns his attention to Simon. “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch,” he says. Peter is caught off guard by all this, beginning with this teacher just climbing into his boat. But then to have this same rabbi tell him how to do his job took a serious amount of chutzpah. But there’s something about him that intrigues him, so Peter responds: “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” We’ve thrown out and hauled in empty nets up all night. As you saw, we’ve just finished cleaning them so we can head back home. But, if you say so, I’ll do it.
And so he pushes the boat out into the deeper water, and lets down the nets, and, Luke tells us, they caught so many fish that the nets began to break. That’s when instinct kicks in, and Peter calls back to the shore for the other boat to come out and help haul in the amazing catch. They get there, and strain against the weight of it all. Finally they get the nets up, and there is such an abundance of fish that both boats begin to sink.
Suddenly it all finally hits Simon Peter. He falls down before Jesus and cries out, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” He sees that Jesus must be a prophet of some kind, and he also knows how he has lived his life. He’s just a salty fisherman; he’s certain he wouldn’t make good company for someone so spiritual, so pure. His lifestyle isn’t the kind that rabbis would lift up. But Jesus simply says to him, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be fishing for people.” And they go back to shore with their boats overflowing with that huge catch and their nets in need of cleaning and mending, and Peter and his partners simply leave it all behind in order to follow Jesus.
It all begins with that simple command from Jesus: Put out into the deeper water. Go further out from the shallows you’re currently in so that you might experience the miraculous in your life. Go out from where it is safe into the place where things are much more uncertain. Put out into the deeper water.
Peter could have easily told Jesus to go pound sand. He was the professional fisherman. He and his buddies had been out all night, and they didn’t have anything to show for their time and effort. Besides all that, they literally had just finished cleaning the nets. Did they really want to have to do that all over again simply because some itinerant teacher tells them to push out into the water once more?
Which is how we might instinctively respond when Jesus speaks to us. When we’re asked by God to do something out of the ordinary, or to try something again even though we failed miserably the first time. Like admitting when we’ve wronged someone and need to make amends. Or writing a large check to a worthy non-profit. Or giving our time to serve at a homeless shelter. Or leaving a job that neither feeds our souls nor makes the world a better place. Jesus looks at us simply and says, “Put out into the deeper water. Go all in. Don’t play it safe.” And we’re unsure, thinking that it’s much easier to just head back into the shore where we know the terrain. By going back to shore, we can get some sleep after a long day, and not bother with this Jesus fellow and his odd request.
But there’s something about the way he is. And our hearts are beating faster, and we know that this call to go out into the deeper place is what we need to do even though it goes against everything we’ve ever held true. We look at Jesus and say, “Master, we’ve worked hard for a long time, and we’ve got nothing in our lives to show for it. We’re tired and drained and have had enough. But if you say so.” And with that tepid response, we push out into the deeper water uncertain of what happens next.
I remember the first time I helped out at a soup kitchen. I felt out of place, certain I would mess something up. I cut up some vegetables, and then put together cutlery and napkins. Then I was asked simply to serve up food as people walked by. And the ones who came were just normal people. Some were exceptionally grateful and chatty and others didn’t say a word. A couple refused what I was offering simply because they didn’t like the looks of it—just like any of us passing over certain dishes at a potluck. After the 100 or so folks had gone through, I was asked to grab a plate and go out and connect with the ones eating. To have a conversation. To ask about them and share something of my own life. And frankly, this was the thing that scared me the most. What if I didn’t have anything to say?
And yet we found our way in conversation. Beginning with the usual small talk about the weather and sports, we moved into telling a little about our families. Some were more open than others, not unlike any gathering. But the folks there weren’t that different from me. They had just had a rough go at life for a time. They were simply people. Beloved children of God.
But once I had that experience, I began to notice things. Like how systems in our society are set up to keep people down. Or how easy it was for me to simply throw away extra food because I had enough. Or how on a cold night, I can just grab another blanket or turn up the heat. How I was being asked by Jesus to be more generous with the ones who’ve had a rougher go. Like Peter, I find myself saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am not who you think I am.” And Jesus—that is, Love—simply says, “Do not be afraid. Follow me and share the good news.” I know that I am to follow, and if I do I will encounter a world more miraculous than I can even fathom, but it will come at a cost. It might be difficult. It might mean coming to terms with things in my own life and in our world that I’d rather just avoid. It might mean having everything I know be shattered so something new can emerge.
But Love is like that. Love—that is Jesus—asks us to follow, and we know that his way is the way of the cross. Yet even with a miraculous catch in our boats, we know that the way forward means leaving behind what is safe, and going wherever he might lead. We trust that Jesus’ call will guide us toward a more meaningful life, a life truly worth living. A life that change us and our world for the better.
I simply close with the words with which I began:
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind
lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest
branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them
in their clinging to the earth.
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