Luke 5:1-11 · The Calling of the First Disciples
From Empty Nets to Full Lives
Luke 5:1-11
Sermon
by J. Ellsworth Kalas
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It's funny what experiences and phrases will stay with you from childhood. I still remember a line from a song which apparently was popular, for at least a short period of time, in my early childhood. It was a half-funny, half-pathetic little lament from someone who felt rejected and unsuccessful. As I recall, each verse ended with the phrase, "I guess I'll go eat worms."  Most of us can understand the mood of the song, if not the dietary remedy. Every one of us feels like a failure at one time or another. Some people -- Father, have mercy on them! -- feel that way most of the time. On some occasions we don't know why we feel so defeated and unlovable; but at times, nevertheless, we do feel that way. 

Jesus came, one day, upon a trio of defeated men. He had met them before, when they were associated with John the Baptizer. Now they were about their customary work -- fishing. But this was a very bad day. They had fished all night and had caught nothing. If you fish for recreation, such a period is simply frustrating; but when it's your life's occupation and the source of your daily bread, a night of empty nets is thoroughly demoralizing. We say that misery loves company, so perhaps the pain was at least partly relieved by the fact that all three men were in the same boat. Nevertheless, the misery was running very deep.  Now it was morning, after a night of failure, and the men were washing their nets so they'd be ready for the next night's work. Suddenly Jesus of Nazareth, the rising young teacher, stepped into Simon's boat. "Put me out a bit from the land," he said to Simon; and from that position, Jesus began to teach the people. 

There's no record of what Jesus said, nor even of how long he talked. Nor is there any indication of how much attention Simon and his partners, James and John, paid to Jesus' teaching. We only know that when Jesus had finished teaching he said to Simon, "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch" (v. 4).  It was really quite audacious for Jesus, a landsman, to tell three professional fishermen how to do their business. Perhaps he sensed they were so defeated that they were ready for any kind of counsel, from anyone. Or perhaps he was counting on the fact that they had confidence in him from their earlier experiences with him.  Simon refused at first. "Master, we toiled all night and took nothing!" It is the language of someone who already feels so defeated that he doesn't want to submit himself to the possibility of still another failure. However, he quickly added, "Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets" (v. 5). 

Again, it's hard to know why Simon responded as he did. It would have been easy to put Jesus off with a polite refusal. Maybe Simon answered out of the spirit that says, "I've tried everything else without success, so why shouldn't I try this?" Or perhaps it is just another dramatic evidence of the fact that Jesus "spoke with authority." Something about the Master's utterance must have made it difficultly to refuse him.  So they threw out the nets from Simon's boat and engulfed a great shoal of fish. So great, in fact, that the load strained their nets to the limit, and they had to enlist help from the other boat. Now both boats were loaded with fish. It was probably more than a night's catch, and they had harvested it within a matter of minutes. 

So it was that their dark night of failure was turned suddenly into glittering success -- greater success than they had ever known in all of their fishing career. It wasn't just the catch that was so satisfying, but the complete sense of turn around. Victory is always exhilarating, but especially such an unexpected victory.  If this is where the story ended, it would be an increasing but rather inconsequential little miracle. It might feed our desire for a gospel of success in business and good grades in school, but it would hardly be worthy of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Fortunately, Simon Peter saw more than just the miracle. He was captured by the Lord behind the miracle. Thus, instead of responding with the bravado of a winner, he pleaded for forgiveness. Falling at Jesus' knees, he begged, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" (v. 8). 

At first glance, that may seem an unlikely reaction to a moment of success. Sometimes, however, it is the experience of achievement which forces us to see how superficial our victories are. Andre Thornton, a home-run hitter with the Cleveland Indians in the 1980s and an exemplary Christian, predicted that there might be a very real religious awakening among athletes as a result of the exorbitant salaries so many are receiving. He felt that when they found themselves suddenly so financially secure they would realize how little their wealth really means, and would thus be driven to look for deeper values. 

The truth is, a person can have full nets but still have an empty life. After you've sold the fish in the market and have put a share of the money in the bank, you may still feel an emptiness deeper than empty nets and a yearning more poignant than the desire for economic security. You and I know some people like that; and there are many others in this category.  It is sometimes said that the miracles of Jesus are parables in action; they teach a lesson. Jesus surely used this miracle in that fashion. "Do not be afraid," he told the frightened Simon Peter; "From now on you will be catching people" (v. 10). 

It was both the contrast and the reassurance Simon needed. At the contrast level, what could be more dramatic than the difference between fish and human beings? No doubt there had been a time in Simon's life when he dreamed of being the best fisherman on the Sea of Galilee. A person of Peter's personality must have had big dreams for himself. But all of our dreams are limited. Because Peter's experience had been confined almost entirely to the area of Galilee and to the vocation of the fishing villages, he probably had no expectations beyond what might be envisioned within those borders.  He could hardly have imagined that people would still talk about him 21 centuries later. And surely he couldn't have dreamed that someday the term "the Big Fisherman" would be a synonym for Simon Peter! How paltry "best fisherman on the Sea of Galilee" sounds compared with that. As paltry, in fact, as fish in a net seem when compared with human souls. 

Simon needed such reassurance. As a matter of fact, as mercurial as he was, he would need it again and again. He would have to be told often that he was more than he had ever imagined himself to be. But just now, when he felt so unworthy, it was electrifying to hear that the Master had work for him to do. Far from being rejected for his sins, as he felt he ought to be, he was being called to a grand assignment. Jesus wanted him to become a fisher of human souls. 

How often do you and I settle for an achievement or a dream with boundaries no larger than the Sea of Galilee? I am thinking particularly of our capacity for goodness and Christian quality. We think little of Jesus's command that we should be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect (Matthew 5:48). We discount the words as a kind of ancient hyperbole, or we push it aside with self-deprecating laughter: "Perfect? Who, me?"  As one of your very imperfect brothers, I understand such feeling. But I don't want us to rule out so easily what God's grand purposes might be. I'm not calling for compulsive self-examination; I'm only saying that our Lord had something serious and possible in mind when he called us to such a goal. Robert Browning, in "Andrea del Sarto," said that a person's "reach should exceed his grasp, / Or what's a heaven for?" I'm willing to leave some of the ultimate achievements to heaven, but I think the promise of heaven ought to inspire us to a greater reach in the here and now.  Nor do we take seriously enough our potential for the fruit of the Spirit. Love, joy, peace, patience, and kindness are such beautiful qualities -- and ones we are so glad to find in others; so why don't we pursue them more hopefully and expectantly for ourselves? It is partly because we have boundaries as confining as the Sea of Galilee. Jesus wanted Peter to fish for human souls. Until the moment of that revelation, Simon Peter apparently would have been content to spend his nights on Galilee. That's not to disparage the fishermen of Galilee. It's only to say that a person should not too quickly place too small boundaries around his or her soul. 

The focal point of the story is Jesus' call to Simon Peter, James, and John to become fishers of human souls. Many of us would be glad to skip this part of the story because we are uneasy with the whole concept of soul-winning. We can't imagine ourselves buttonholing people, offending them, or intruding upon their privacy. We have all kinds of negative images in mind; those images prevent our giving serious attention to our calling to be witnesses of our faith.

Perhaps our greatest problem is that we try to make such witnessing an isolated part of life; the occasions ought, rather, to be part of the natural flow of living. That's the impressive thing about Jesus' own pattern of faith-sharing. His encounters with Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, and the rich young ruler don't seem to be structured and set up. They "just happened," so to speak. And it's especially significant that each individual was treated in a specific way. They were persons to Jesus, not people to be met with a formula. 

Most of our witnessing is likely to happen in passing moments of conversation -- those occasions when we show, in relatively minor ways, who we are and to whom we belong. I think of a suburban woman who was playing tennis with her good-but-quite-secular friends. In a conversation break between sets she began referring to something she had read that morning. It would have been easy to say, "I read something this morning...." Instead, with my attempt at piosity, she simply introduced one word: "In my devotional reading this morning." It is not a major soul-winning engagement. It was, however, a true sowing of seed. By a word, she had opened the door for some further conversation. 

Perhaps our greatest problem in becoming Christ's fishermen is that we are not enough in earnest to grasp the opportunities that come to us; or we are so possessed of the idea that we must say something dramatic and far-reaching that we fail to say the small, immediate, and potentially significant thing.  To put it in the language of our lesson for the day, most of us really don't act as if we even have a call to "fish." We're out in the waters of human need every day, but we don't seem to know it.  The issue is not that we should become more aggressive about sharing our faith. It is that we should be more sensitive to the needs of the world around us, and more sensitive to the subtle prodding of the Holy Spirit. The two sensitivities are wonderfully intertwined. To be sensitive to the Holy Spirit must mean that we will be more sensitive to people and their pain; to be more sensitive to people ought to make us more open to God and his purposes. 

Put another way: every human soul is a collection of fears, joys, strengths, weaknesses, sins, and goodness. God is able to meet the human soul at any of these points of reality, and ready to do so. If we are willing to be a channel by which God can touch the life of another person, even in the most routine way, God is finding a place in that person's life. And that small place, like leaven in the lump, can eventually influence the whole life. We don't have to be theologians to do this -- or blazing witnesses. All we need is to care enough about others to want to help, and to believe deeply enough in God that we will tell them that he can help. 

Who knows what a catch we will make? Who can say what an eternal achievement can be ours? The opportunity came to Simon Peter in the wake of a night of defeat. The same opportunity awaits us each day in all our passing relationships. You and I have allied ourselves with the One who will lead us into a life of full nets. Such is his purpose for each of us.    

CSS Publishing Company, Sermons on the Gospel Readings, Cycle C, by J. Ellsworth Kalas