Y
ou scurry about as a crab in the night, hurrying this way and that, wondering when you, if you will ever find a morsel, a bit a flotsam in the foaming water and be nourished. Sometimes not so quietly, sometimes in dark silence the struggle persists, longing for relief from the ache in your belly. And then, at a moment and in a place you least expect, it comes. It comes in such abundance that you wonder what to do with it all. However, it will be that you manage. But until, and if it should come, the longing continues. The Pain perennial.
One day as Jesus was standing by the lake with people crowding around him and listening to him teach, he saw at the water’s edge two boats. One belonged to Simon Peter, the other belonged to another fisherman, who was washing his nets. He got into Peter’s boat and asked him to put out a little from shore. Then he sat down and taught the people from the boat. When he had finished speaking, Jesus, invigorated, said to Simon, “Alright Mr. Fisherman, let’s fish! Put this thing into deep water and let down the nets for a catch.” He said this casually, as though it were the most routine thing in the world, his eyes following the people as they dispersed.
Peter thought the idea absurd. A naive notion that revealed ignorance of his profession. He and the others had labored since well before daylight with nothing to show for it. He knew that the fish were running too deep for the nets that day. By now, Jesus should know better. He — Simon Peter — knew what he was doing. They would try again tomorrow. Some days were just like this. Besides, it was the wrong time of day to fish. He knew that. Jesus obviously didn’t, or had forgotten. And so he answered tolerantly, as if not to embarrass him, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and caught nothing.” The look he received told him that Jesus remained unconvinced, or that what Peter had just announced didn’t matter. Sometimes, in order to teach the uninformed, it is best to let them learn by their own embarrassment. I will try not to tell him, ‘I told you so.’ “All right,” Peter conceded, “because you say so, I will do this.”
Sails hoisted, the boat ploughed through the waves toward the center of the lake. Peter was making it as sure as he could that it was not he who would be embarrassed. Everyone knew that it was almost impossible to catch fish in these reaches of the sea. At length, Peter dropped anchor. The anchor chain snapped rigid, indicating that it was too short to reach bottom. Over the side the nets went. It took a few moments for the nets to spread and then the crew of professionals, exchanging looks of disdain among themselves began to pull in the nets. At first, the nets heaved too easily. That was to be expected. They were empty. But as arm over arm of net was taken in, it became more difficult. The looks the professionals were exchanging now shifted to surprise. And then bewilderment. And then panic. They could feel struggling against the nets. They could feel the fish, and then they saw them — hundreds of them. Eyes bulging, corded muscles straining every ounce of strength, they pulled until they could hear the nets tearing. Fish cascaded on the deck of the boat and down into the hold. The boat began to wallow in the water. The sons of Zebedee had seen Peter, Jesus and Peter’s crew head for open water and had followed, more of curiosity than any hope of catching fish. Now they could see something . . . What are they doing . . . signaling? They came as fast as they could until they pulled alongside Peter’s boat. It was almost too late. Wavelets were beginning to lap over the gunnels. John, James and the rest of their crew leaped to assist and their boat too, began to fill. Silvery fish were everywhere, leaping and flopping over the decks of both boats. In a few moments, the men were knee-deep in fish, both boats wallowing in the water.
Peter looked at Jesus. This naive, ignorant of the sea, untutored — Person! sat by himself in the stern of the boat, fish flopping all around him, holding himself in repressed laughter. You could see that Jesus was in pain from his mirth. For the professional, however, this was no laughing matter. What had just taken place exceeded anything conceivable. There was no other explanation. In addition to grossly underestimating Jesus, he clearly had offended God himself. Seeing this, wading through hundreds of flopping bodies, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, “Stop it! Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” It was Peter, not Jesus, who was embarrassed by his own ignorance, in this case prideful ignorance, of who it was that had invited him to launch out into the deep.
Can it be that God would ask impossible things? We know the futility of such things. We know the inherent danger of ruin. We are men and women of wisdom. Are we not? We know better than to waste our valuable time in endeavor promising such minimal value in return. That is the way of the world. We take risks, but only when it is reasonable to do so. Only when the “odds” are in our favor. This is wise and intelligent. It is the way one should conduct business. Create a business plan. Test the market. Validate an idea before committing too deeply. Never strike out on your own. Plan. Plan. Plan!
Then said Jesus said to Peter, “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will catch men.”
Delight yourself in the LORD; and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD, trust also in Him, and He will do it. And He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your judgment as the noonday.
Great excitement on Capharnaum’s waterfront that day when the boats returned. Fishermen from all around came to help. “Where did you find this?” they exclaimed. When told from the deep, they didn’t ask questions but quickly rigged and cast off for the deep themselves. Those that did, did not return empty. For their trouble and assistance, Peter and John gave them some of their fish. There was more than enough to go around. The income from this catch would sustain them for weeks.
