Two guys go on a fishing trip. They rent all the equipment: the reels, the rods, the wading suits, the rowboat, the car, and even a cabin in the woods. They spend a fortune.

The first day they go fishing they don't catch a thing. The same thing happens on the second day and on the third day. It goes on like this until finally, on the last day of their vacation, one of the men finally catches a fish.

As they drive home, they are both really depressed. One turns to the other and says, "Do you realize that this one lousy fish we caught cost us $1,500?"

"Wow!" says the other, "It's a good thing we didn't catch any more!"

Another one. A cold winter day. An old man walked out onto a frozen lake, cut a hole in the ice, dropped in his fishing line, and waited patiently for a bite. He was there for almost an hour, without even a nibble, when a young boy walked out onto the ice, cut a hole in the ice next to him. The lad dropped his fishing line and minutes later he hooked a largemouth bass. The old man could not believe his eyes but chalked it up to plain luck.

Shortly thereafter, the young boy pulled in another large catch. He kept catching fish after fish. Finally, the old man could take it no longer. "Son," he said, "I have been here for over an hour without even a nibble. You have been here only a few minutes and have caught a half dozen fish! How do you do it?"

The boy responded, "Roo raf roo reep ra rums rarrm."

"What was that?" the old man asked.

Again the boy responded, "Roo raf roo reep ra rums rarrm."

"Look," said the old man, "I can't understand a word you're saying."

The boy leaned over, brought his hand to his mouth and spat out a mess of bait. He said again, "You have to keep the worms warm!"

Our text is the source of that "fisher of men" designation we learned to sing about in Sunday school. It too is a "fish story" of sorts. It starts out with Jesus being pursued by the curious crowd, folks who have heard about this amazing young man: his healing miracles, casting out demons. What does he have to say? So they press close, as the text says, "listening to the word of God" (Luke 5:1).

Too close, actually. Closer and closer to the water's edge they come, finally prompting Jesus to impress into service a beached fishing boat belonging to an acquaintance named Simon, whose mother-in-law he had recently healed.

Simon was quick to agree. He had been quietly washing his nets, his head angled to catch the words of rabbi Jesus. Those words may be all he catches today, he thinks to himself. After all, he and his partners had been out fishing all night and had caught nothing but an occasional nap. So Jesus climbs in, Simon pushes off, and the teaching continues.

We have no clue how long the preaching and teaching continues, but for a while we expect. Finally, it is over. Simon and his mates are ready to get home for some shut-eye in preparation for another night's work — after all, night time, especially the early morning hours before dawn, is best for fishing, even if last night was not so good. Instead, Jesus says, "Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch" (Luke 5:4).

"Say what?" Simon thinks to himself. "This is not the time to be fishing, and the fish are not biting today anyway. Besides, this rabbi might be special in some things, but he is a carpenter, not a fisherman. Let's go home!"

Something about this Jesus overcomes the reluctance. "Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets" (Luke 5:5). He beckons to his partners, James and John, and together they sail the two boats out from shore.

Now the fish story. The catch is humongous. It is too big for one boat, and even for the two boats together: so many flopping, slippery fish that the boats are in danger of going under. Simon has never seen anything like it. "Whoa! This rabbi is something!" As the gospel account has it, "he fell at Jesus' knees and said, ‘Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!' " (Luke 5:8).

The rabbi only smiles. "Don't be afraid; from now on you will catch people." Or in the words of the old Sunday school ditty that comes from this story, "I will make you fishers of men, fishers of men...." And the conclusion is simple: "So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him."

Which is more the miracle here? The incredible catch of fish or the incredible catch of these men? They drop it all, give it all up — their business, their home, their way of life, and, if tradition is correct, their very lives themselves — all to follow Jesus. To "catch people." And down through two millennia of Christian history, that is how every generation of followers of Jesus have understood our calling — to catch people. The word for that is "evangelism," a word that makes good mainline Christians turn pale and start fanning themselves.

There are several ways to interpret that phrase, "catch people." We could think of ourselves as the ones casting the nets — we spread the word far and wide in hopes that we will bring in another huge catch like the one that day at Gennesaret. Legitimate. Or we could think of ourselves as the net — we are the instrument the Lord uses to gather them in. Also legitimate. But I am convinced that we best think of ourselves as bait. Unless they are born into the fellowship, that is, after all, the way new disciples are brought into the life of the church. Something attracts them — the bait — and most often it is you and me. Four out of five new church members say they decided to join because someone, a friend or a relative, first invited them. For good or ill, we are bait. Make sure it's warm! The good news is that all the studies tell us that they are biting out there. They are biting.