Epiphany 5 C: Lots to Love
Dear Partner in Preaching,
When I taught preaching, one of the most frequent words of counsel I would give students was just this: hug the details. Pay attention to what sticks out to you in the biblical narrative. Notice what grabs your attention. And, in particular, focus on those elements of the story that you just plain love or find absolutely vexing. Because at those places of great joy and challenge you’ll most often find your sermon.
That was easy advice to follow this week, as I absolutely love this story, and there are a lot of details that bring me joy. So I thought I would simply share some of those, some of those things that stuck out to me, some of the things I love.
First off, I love the idea of Jesus, desperate for a little space from which to speak to the crowds pressing upon him, just commandeering Peter’s boat. It’s not a polite inquiry or subtle request. He sees two boats that are empty because their owners aren’t in them… and because they hadn’t caught any fish!… and he just gets into one of them. I love that… because sometimes God doesn’t ask our permission to get involved in our life, to encounter us with grace, God just goes ahead and does it.
And when he does get around to asking Peter something — to put out a bit into the water — I love that Peter just does it. I mean, he’d been fishing all night and was now cleaning his nets, and I’m guessing he probably wanted to finish that job and get home to bed. But he takes Jesus out anyway. We don’t know why. Maybe it’s that he knew Jesus and was used to this kind of thing. (Keep in mind in the last chapter we heard that Jesus stayed at Peter’s house.) Or maybe he’s so grateful that Jesus healed his mother-in-law that there’s not much he wouldn’t do for Jesus. Or maybe he was just that kind of a guy, the kind of guy who would push out from shore even though he was dead tired just because you asked. We don’t know. He just does it. And I love that.
And I love that when he’s all done teaching, Jesus isn’t actually all done. In fact, that he’s just getting started. Because God’s like that, always up to more than we imagine.
And I love that Peter again does something that doesn’t make sense, letting down his nets – the ones that he’d just finished cleaning, keep in mind! – after he’d been fishing all night and caught nothing.
And I love that pretty much nothing changes in what they’re doing this time around. No new nets or special spot on the lake. No new technique or gimmick. Nothing is different from what they’ve been doing all night… Except that Jesus spoke to them and they do what he says and the word Jesus spoke makes it different, because God’s Word always does what it says, even when those hearing that Word fall short or even have a hard time believing it.
And I love to imagine the expression on the fishermen’s faces as they struggle to haul in this unexpected catch, call their friends to help, and barely get their nets to shore. Wonder, delight, a touch of awe perhaps. These are usually the things that accompany an encounter with the Lord.
And I have to say I also love the idea that however much Peter thinks he knows Jesus, he only now realizes that he really doesn’t know him, that he’s only just beginning to realize who and what Jesus is, and that it scares him a little. It’s easy, I suppose, to attribute Peter’s confession to a lack of self-esteem, or an appropriate confession of sinfulness in the presence of the sinless One. But I think that each time we experience sheer grace, we are simultaneously joyful and a little afraid, struck by how much more we’ve received than we deserve or even imagined. Wondering how such blessings came our way and realizing we are caught up in something so much bigger than ourselves.
And I love what Jesus says to him: “Do not be afraid.” Note that Jesus’ doesn’t say, “you are forgiven.” Which is perhaps a little odd, in that Peter just said that he’s a sinner, yet also wonderful, as it reminds us that Jesus forgives sin, for sure, but also offers so much more. In this case, comfort and encouragement.
And I love how often these same words appear. Not only in Luke’s story, as the promise and command to “be not afraid” appears about 120 times throughout the Bible, but certainly with great frequency in the Third Gospel. (Think how many times angels say these very words in just the first two chapters of Luke’s account.) Indeed, we might call this the hallmark of Luke’s witness… and maybe the hallmark of the whole gospel. Jesus comes so that we don’t have to be afraid anymore. I love that.
And I love that Jesus doesn’t stop only at comfort and encouragement, but moves on to give Peter something to do, something bigger and larger than anything he’d ever imagined: catching people up in the unimaginable and life-changing grace of God. Peter has no reason to expect this call and many, I’m sure, to doubt it. Yet Jesus calls him anyway. And I love that because that, too, is how God works, always choosing the unlikeliest of characters through whom to work, putting aside all their doubts and fears and excuses and professed shortcomings to do marvelous things through them. Yeah, I really love that.
Of course, the story’s not quite done. Because after these words, the fishermen give everything up – their professions, their livelihood, their family and friends, everything – in order to follow Jesus. And, quite frankly, I can’t say I love this part. Not because it’s not a cool scene – it definitely is, thinking of them just up and going to follow Jesus, with little to no idea where he will lead them. No, I’m not sure I love this part because I don’t think Jesus is talking only to Peter and his friends. I think he’s talking to us, too. Putting aside all our doubt and fears and excuses and professed shortcomings to do marvelous things through us. Would I follow Jesus? Do I follow Jesus? Would I give up everything for Jesus?
These are serious and significant questions. And yet as much as I wonder about those questions – or really, wonder about my own adequacy to respond to the Lord’s call – I’m reminded that in this respect, too, this story isn’t done. Jesus is still coming to us to say, “Do not fear.” Jesus is still coming to us to call us to things we can’t imagine. Jesus isn’t finished calling people who know their sins and doubts and fears and inadequacy first hand. And Jesus is still coming and speaking to us, and by his speaking accomplishes in us what he’s asked. Because that’s what the Word of God does. Always. I really, really love that part of the story, and I think your people will as well.
Well, as I said, there’s lots to love in this story, and I trust that amid all these details you’ll find something you want to share with your people this week. As you do, Dear Partner, know that God is at work in you, too, working through your words and life in ways you can’t imagine to catch your people up in grace. Which is pretty cool, and definitely worth paying attention to. So thank you, Dear Partner, not simply for all you do, but also for all you are. For it is a wonderful and marvelous thing to behold.
Yours in Christ,
David
As a former student who continues to benefit from your homiletic teaching, I love how you practice what you taught back at seminary. There is much joy to find in this pericope; you touch on several of them. I find joy in seeing the example of the awe-struck response as Peter and his partners encountered God in the simple act of carrying out their vocation. It makes me ponder how struck with awe am I as I encounter God in my life. May you continue to find joy in God’s word as you enlighten your congregation and we preachers across the world. Thank you for what you do, good and faithful servant.
The greatest lesson I learned from you and Dr. Karoline Lewis, years ago, was to take us into the story and connect us to the story without the ‘official’ church language–without the ‘church vocabulary’ that our exegesis might have led us to do in our early preaching classes. Even this reading took me into the story being a frustrated fisherman who “knows Jesus–or knows the story” but the frustrations of failure, at times clouds the acceptance of God’s work or God’s promises given to us. Peter knew Jesus (at least to an extent), but the frustrations of his catch–and then the frustrations of his own self-worth bring him to his knees. And then you remind me, that even from our knees, God tells us to get up–to go out–and to love. Thanks Dr. Lose for inspiring my imagination for this week once again!
Thank you SO much for this reflection. It has opened my mind to an entirely new approach to this passage.
WHAT?! Dr Lose, are you writing on a regular basis again?! Please, please, please say it’s so. I must have missed the boat. I often google your old writings because I appreciate how you blend the pastoral and the theological. Any chance you can make it so people could subscribe to your writings…or you would put them on (gasp) Facebook?! 🙂
Ahh, beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll just be delighted when I run across your work.
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