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A Congregation Of The "Never place a period where God has placed a comma." - Gracie Allen |
From February 4, 2007 Call in an expert. We've all had to do that. Phil Ehrhardt did when the sanctuary thermostat went caput a few weeks ago. When my computer was on the fritz recently, a tech-savvy friend on the other end of the phone got everything squared away in no time. Our Bubba Randles deals every day with folks who have come to the important conclusion that they need his expertise; sometimes because they've tried and failed themselves and other times because they know better than to take matters into their own hands. Since I know a little bit about a lot of things, I'm not familiar with the challenges that go with having tons of expertise. But I can imagine of any number of things that might make it hard being an expert. I'm thinkin' Bubba again now. Bubba's never mentioned this but maybe it secretly bugs the daylights out of him when, in the middle of a really perplexing repair, someone who doesn't know much about cars peers under the hood of whatever vehicle Bubba's working on and offers unsolicited advice. When you're already really good at something and for some reason you're failing miserably, usually the last thing you want is for someone who doesn't know anything to start talking like they do. * * * * * * * * * * "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch," the stranger with a mission says to the seasoned fisherman. It was a long night and a pitifully poor catch for Simon and still he has it in him to ferry the man out beyond the shore so the crowd can hear him teach about God's love. I'm sure Simon thought his favor was an uncomplicated one. But when the rabbi is done talking, he makes a most unexpected suggestion. "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch." Huh? Exactly what does a God-talker know about fishing? Nothing. He knows nothing about rising way before dawn, nothing about rowing out to just the right spot at just the right time and throwing the nets just so. This preacher man has no idea what he's talking about. He knows nothing, Simon says to himself, about what you do when you do everything right and still you come back empty handed. A person doesn't need to know anything in order to have an opinion about something, remember. We all know someone who speaks with authority and yet doesn't know diddly. Still, there's something in the way Jesus tells Simon to row further out that is more than some wise-guy notion. This Jesus knows something Simon doesn't. So Simon does what Jesus says; he points his boat away from the shore, puts down anchor, and tosses out the nets. You know the rest. You know how those nets come back bulging with wiggling, wriggling fish. They're so full, the nets are, that they threaten to burst open and sink Simon's boat and the boat that's joined them, too. By the time Simon and Jesus and Simon's fishing partners make it back to shore, something big has occurred to Simon. He isn't just an expert fisherman making a living along the shores of the Sea of Galilee; he is also a human being who needs more in his life than he has right now. "Sinner" is the word he uses, shorthand for "I need what you have to give." And not only have Simon's eyes been opened to his own self, he understands that this man, the one he did the favor for, he isn't just some beautiful stranger talking about God. This man is the Lord himself. What Simon sees, James and John see as well. But the story doesn't end here, though, does it? It doesn't stop with this stunning realization that Jesus is Lord. The story really begins here. It begins when Simon and partners James and John understand what Jesus has done goes further than nets and fish; Jesus has gathered them up in his great net of love. All of a sudden their patched-over nets and the creaky boats and the years of hard-won experience--it all seems strangely unimportant. What matters now is setting sail with this Lord who wants to teach them the joys of catching people, not fish. * * * * * * * * * * We find ourselves on the threshold of a new year this morning, even if the calendar happens to say it's the fourth of February. Today we have a new Council, new boards and committees, and the gift of a whole new year of journeying together in faith. As I think about all that has led to our new beginning, I can't help but notice some similarities between Simon and the Zebedee brothers, and us. Like them, this past year we dared to trust Jesus. He told us to put out into the deep and drop our nets and we did. Even when we had our fears that the waters might be all fished out, that maybe there wasn't any more of what we needed out there. Still, we did what Jesus encouraged and put out our net of love. And guess what? We welcomed in twenty new members and any number of beautiful new friends. All in the span of a year, a breathtaking feat for a church-boat of our size. What else? Two new ministries--Tim Whitaker's True North Yoga and a newly-formed youth group--swam into our nets and brought important new life to our mostly empty basement. Both are spacious ministries that reach out to people who might not otherwise step foot in a church. And yet these weren't the only ways Christ pointed us toward plenty. In addition to our weekly tithes and offerings, we took Christ at his word and reached deep into our pockets. Lo and behold, we fished out in excess of $10,000 for above-and-beyond giving. Giving that supported special missions and enabled us to tend to extra things like more new hymnals and a tune up on our sanctuary sound system. All of this, again, a most unbelievably large catch for a congregation such as ours. Rowing out in faith and putting our nets into the deep, we had our first-in-a-long-time season of stewardship and nearly drowned in delight: well over $100,000 in promises for 2007 came in. What can we make of this? We could congratulate ourselves for our generosity, but we know better, don't we? We know that Christ was at work among us, manifesting abundance here just as he did for three fishermen bobbing empty-handed in the Sea of Galilee. These are just a few examples of what Christ has done for us and with us. Later, over coffee, we can lift up more and marvel at how today we find ourselves, like Simon and the Zebedee brothers, standing on the shore with far more in our nets than we could ever have asked or imagined. All because we trusted Christ when he came in his many disguises. All because he told us to row out into deep and familiar waters to put out our nets. But Jesus is interested in more than nets and boats and fishing in waters you and I know by heart. Our Jesus is no stay-at-home Savior. He is itinerant, always on the move. Just as he did in Simon's day, Jesus trusts the horizon and the movement of the Spirit and willingly sets out for the unknown even when he's not sure where the path leads exactly or how he will manage along the way. Certainly Jesus' earthly journey is a testament to this kind of radical trust, this kind of letting go. Letting go of fixed ideas about himself--and others. Letting go of the sure thing in favor of the right choice. Letting go of needing to know how it will all work out, or even if it will. Let go? Let go?!? Now that's a hard sell, right there. Few of us willingly sign on for lives like that. Which maybe explains why Jesus had so few disciples. Maybe Jesus put out two hundred offers in those first months of ministry and in the end only a dozen men were willing to follow. When he said, "do not be afraid," maybe only twelve really heard what he said. Maybe all the rest heard something inside that drowned out Jesus' words, something like "be afraid, be very afraid." Why? Because giving up one life and taking up a new one is unnerving business indeed. That is, unless you have as your guide and savior one who knows everything there is to know about living this way. The year that awaits us is going to be an exciting one. It's also a year that will ask us to return again and again to Jesus' exhortation that we not give in to fear. What do we have to fear? What each of us fears--change. Stepping away from our life on the shore and into the new life Christ calls us to. Me? I'm no expert. But I encourage you to take Jesus at his word. "Do not be afraid," he says. "From now on you will be catching people." Catching them with the very same thing Jesus caught us with: love, pure love. Amen. © Rev. Karen Winkel |
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