Fishing. I don't indulge in the sport
myself. I guess I just don't like the idea that I have to kill
something before I eat it. But ever since Sunday School days I've
been familiar with the story in the Revised Common Lectionary for
Epiphany 3 (Matthew 4: 12-23) in which Jesus calls fisherman to be
his disciples. “Follow me,” the Lord tells them in verse 19, “and
I will make you fish for people.” The gospel says that the
fishermen left their nets immediately
and followed him.
I
guess this makes a little bit of sense if viewed in context. For me,
fishing was something old retired guys did off the pier. You bring a
deck chair, drink a few beers, and fall asleep with your rod in the
water. But fishing for a living—today as in the ancient world—is
a whole different story. I remember as a kid sitting up late to watch
Spencer Tracy in The Old Man and the Sea
on the Late Show. I remembered the fisherman's sense of desperation
and I was struck by the physical demands of the profession. I recall
the bleeding hands and the sheer danger of a life on the ocean.
Later, The Perfect Storm drove
home the back-breaking labor, the smell, the time away from home, and
the physical peril involved in putting that slab of salmon on my
dinner plate. I have a whole new respect for fishermen, believe me!
So, I
guess I can see why these guys would leave a life which was brutal,
hard, and fairly uncertain. What I don't understand, however, is why
they would trade it for a life which would be brutal, hard,
completely uncertain,
and end in martyrdom? (Note that this pericope starts out with a
preacher getting arrested!) Either they were really freakin'
desperate to get out of the fishing business, or there was something
about Jesus which compelled them to change their identities and
embrace a new way of life.
Sometimes
I feel that being the Christian Church in America today is like being
an ancient fisherman. It can be brutal, hard, and uncertain. What
really makes it tough is that we don't even know at times what fish
we're after. We don't know how to think like the fish we're trying to
catch, and so we don't know what bait to use.
The
fish don't seem to be swimming our way, either. The hook of the
knowledge of sin still smarts. And the fish in the net have so many
reason to try and tear themselves loose. There's a massive amount of
pain inside this net. There's sickness, family issues, fear, poverty,
unemployment, the death of loved ones, addictions, mental illness—and
let's not forget disillusionment with the Church itself. We fish tear
at that net, a net that feels so often like an obligation and not a
place of rest and refuge and love.
The
wider ocean beyond the net of the Church looks blue enough, but it
has a tendency to keep us compartmentalized, computerized, and
isolated.
So
what is it in Jesus which overcomes resistance?
I
don't know about all of you, but I think I need to stop at times and
reflect on my own relationship with the one who loves, forgives, and
sacrifices. There are all kinds of church growth strategies out
there, but they don't mean a thing without the love of Christ. Unless
someone can see Jesus in me—Jesus
present in hope, forgiveness, welcome, and purpose—I will never
convince them to embrace Christ's Church.
I know
we'll never catch all the fish out there, and many will tear
themselves loose from our tattered nets, but we'll keep throwing the
nets out anyway.
Thanks
for reading, my friends. Keep fishing.
Hey! I'm still trying to mend the
net which binds Lutherans and Roman Catholics. The 500th anniversary
of the Reformation is getting close. Let's ask Pope Francis—a
pretty cool fisherman if you ask me—to invite Lutherans back to the
table. Check out my petition at Change.org.
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