A New Kind of Fullness
By Dr. Terry W. York
Scripture Passage: Luke 5:1-11
For First Baptist Church Austin, TX
February 10, 2019
Our scripture passage for this morning plops us down
on the sandy shore of an old lake and a new day. Simon’s success is still
swimming around in the depths of the sea, but oh, how new the day that has
dawned.
“Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of
Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he
saw two boats there at the shore of the lake.”
(5:1)
Jesus walked along the shore to where Simon had
beached his boat for the day. Pushed and pressed by the large crowd in need of
what he had to offer, the fully human Jesus stood one foot in the dry sand and
one foot in the wet sand, wedged between exhaustion and the deep blue sea.
Jesus was wedged between a multitude that wanted his attention and a crew of
fishermen who wanted to go unnoticed. With the multitude in his heart, Jesus
reached out to the small group.
As it
happened, there was another boat pulled up onto the shore, near Simon’s.
Jesus
got into the boat that belonged to Simon and he motioned for Simon to come back
over here. Jesus asked Simon to regroup his crew back and row him out a little
way into the sea. Jesus saw Simon’s boat as both sanctuary and pulpit.
I’m not so sure that Simon was pleased that
Jesus had hopped into his boat. Simon
had had a tough and unsuccessful night of fishing and he wasn’t too excited
about the prospects of telling the other guys that they couldn’t go home yet. He
was going through the almost mindless routine of tending to his nets in preparation
to go home and tell his wife about his failure. I can imagine that out of the
corner of his eye, while finishing up with the nets, Simon saw Jesus looking at
the two boats, and I can imagine that Simon knew what Jesus was about to do.
You see,
Simon knew Jesus. After all, a while back, Jesus has healed Simon’s
mother-in-law. Simon had also seen Jesus cast out demons. Simon liked the
solitude of the sea. The crowds that followed Jesus made Simon uncomfortable. The
crowd was usually large and often made up of some of the, well, let’s say, the
marginalized.
I wonder if Simon was thinking to himself as
he worked and watched, “Look at your net. Don’t make eye contact with Jesus.
Don’t look him in the eye. Pretend that you don’t see Jesus at work. Oh, Jesus,
whatever it is that you’re up to, don’t call on me, not today, not my boat, not
our crew.” Can’t you just hear those thoughts in Simon’s head?
I can,
because I experience this in the classes I teach. Often, when I pose a question
to my students, I see heads and eyes drop toward notebooks and i-pads that
suddenly need attention. If students are not prepared to embrace and engage the
lesson, they try to become invisible. They avoid making eye-contact. I also experienced
this in my early ministry. We would take a handful of prospect cards on Tuesday
evenings, and go knocking on doors, “cold turkey.” At first our “visitation”
was on Monday evenings, then Monday Night Football got started, so we felt led
to move our outreach to Tuesday nights. We would go “calling,” which was
knocking on doors, asking if we could talk to the people who lived there about
our church and Jesus. We would slowly walk to the door, heads bowed in prayer
as we walked, praying, “Please Jesus, don’t let them be at home.” “One knock
and walk” was our unspoken motto.
Simon,
in this moment, is like those students and we cowardly Tuesday night lions. Simon,
we feel your pain. He is like many of us when we see Jesus at work nearby. He
was praying that Jesus wouldn’t call on him.
Terry, will you take me out into the middle of
this sea of injustice? Will you row me out into the middle of your failure? May
I use your boat to speak my truth out across the sea of fear and despair?
My heart
races with Simon’s. Please Jesus, choose
the other boat, please, please, please, choose the other boat. Aggh…He saw me. Aggh,
he’s stepping into my boat.
“What’s
that, Jesus? May I help you? What’s that, row you out a little way from shore? Why
yes, of course, I’d be happy to.” I can also imagine a small wry smile at the
corner of Jesus’ mouth as He thought to himself, “Rowing me across calm water is only the beginning, Simon. And you’d
better learn to look me in the eye.”
Be that
as it may, Simon and crew shoved off, pulled against the oars, and pulling
against their better judgement, on Jesus’ signal, they dropped anchor.
Jesus,
sitting down in the boat, began to skip his sermon across the water like a flat
rock. His message lifted the hearts of that sea of humanity that was drowning
in their need on the shore. Then, unlike many of us preachers, Jesus stopped
talking when he had said all he had to say.
Simon was pleased that church was over. He was
pulling up the anchor when Jesus turned and said, “Since we’re out here anyway,
Simon, let’s go fishing.”
I can imagine that Simon’s heart sank, boat or
no boat. I’m sure that he was thinking that he would never get home. “Well,
Teacher, normally I’d be right there with you, you know that. You know I love
you. Normally, I’d be rowing to beat the band, but we fished out here all night,
and we didn’t catch a thing. The only thing we pulled out of the water was a
wet net.” And we could get burned fishing out here fishing in the wrong place
in broad daylight.”
“Row out
farther, Simon.”
“Out
farther, Simon, where it’s deeper.” In John’s account of this event (John 21:
6), he remembers Jesus saying, “Go out deeper, and, by the way, drop your nets on the other side of your boat for
a change.” Jesus knew the earlier success that had worn the old rope groves on
the side of the boat, but he also knew that new grooves wouldn’t sink the boat.
“Yes, Teacher,” Simon answered, “If you say so,
right here in front of God and my crew, right here in broad daylight, I’ll fish from that side of the boat.” (Mumble, mumble, What does a
carpenter know about fishing?)
And from
the very location of Simon’s emptiness and failure, from that side of the boat
toward which Simon had traditionally turned his back, Simon, his crew, and
Jesus pulled up a boat-load of divine success. Fish, fish and more fish: Jesus had come and brought success!! Oh, what
a Savior. Simon’s heart was as full as
his nets. Jesus and Simon had to signal to the weary crew of the other boat
still on the shore to get their nets and come help them before they sank in the
fullness of success.
Soon, it
looked like both boats were about to sink. Simon and his worn-out fishermen
were no longer concerned about success; but Jesus was. He was concerned about
their success and how they would interpret it. Simon and company thought they had found a
divine cure for empty nets. Simon was ready to preach the prosperity gospel,
boasting new nets and new boats as evidence of what it means to have Jesus on
board with you.
Slowly,
both boats struggled back to shore, the crews pulling on the oars, straining
against the weight of success. The slow trip back afforded Simon time to think
about success and fullness. And somehow, a new kind of emptiness started to creep in to his heart.
“Go away
from me,” said Simon to Jesus, both knee-deep in fish, “When we get back to
shore, go away from me, for I am a sinful man.”
Earlier,
Simon wanted Jesus to go away because Simon was a worn-out failure. He was
tired of his boat, tired of the ups and downs of his work, tired of the ups and
downs of success and failure, and, if the truth be told, he may well have been
tired of Jesus’ teachings when seen and heard against the backdrop of
“reality.” But now, seeing the power of Jesus’ way of doing things, Simon wants
Jesus to leave because of Simon’s sinfulness. “Leave me, not because of my
failure, but because of my sinfulness.” His soul is empty. Simon interpreted
his emptiness as evidence of his sinfulness. But Jesus saw Simon’s emptiness as
evidence that he was ready to become a disciple.
Like Simon
we can easily sink into a state of failure and fatigue that says, “I haven’t
the strength, Jesus, please don’t choose my boat.”
But he
does choose our boat. He does call our name. He does look us in the eye. He
does expect us to learn and obey his teachings. He does bid us follow him.
Simon,
was shown that failure and success, as he measured them, often looked very much
alike. Simon saw Jesus’ power on full display again, this time emptying his
heart even as it filled his nets. But, t Jesus wasn’t “going there” because
that’s not why He came here. Jesus had learned to turn his back to temptation,
so He said to Simon, “Follow me.” Jesus
could fill a boat with fish and he could fill a hillside with people, but he
put both of those measurements of worth in the same category as being equal
with God: the category of something not to be exploited. (Philippians 2:6) There’s
a new kind of fullness to embrace, and there’s nothing fishy about it.
But let
us admit: to have our goals, evaluations and conclusions disturbed by Jesus is
no small thing.
Success,
failure, wet sand, dry sand, water, land, the multitude, the individual:
“Follow me, walk with me, empty yourselves so that I might teach you.”
The
world cries from solid ground. The world cries from sinking sand. The world
calls from its many deep and choking seas. The world cries from loneliness
within the crowd. The world cries out with a salty and sandy thirst. The needs
of the world cry out to Jesus from nets and cages and entanglements of every sort.
And Jesus steps into our boat and says “Row. Pull against the waves and tide.
Row. I’m in your boat. Row.”
I learned as a small boy that you must speak quietly
when you go fishing. Shouting frightens them away. Listen, he calls us. “Will
you fish from the other side of the boat?” Shhh…don’t frighten anyone by such a
different approach, just quietly drop your net where I tell you to. Jesus calls
us at the low decibel level of a fisherman.
But there
are situations in which Jesus joins us in the shouting: “Shout to your brothers
and sisters on the shore. Shout to the other crews. Tell them of the
overwhelming numbers.” “Shout salvation full and free. Sing it softly through
the gloom. Waft it on the rolling tide.”
Shush or shout, shallow or deep, old side or new side,
the blush of failure or the blush of success, dry land or sea, all of that is
present in our scripture passage this morning. The one thing in common here,
the one thing that all followers are called to on that day and here today is to
adopt a new measurement of fullness, a new kind of fullness. Our fullness is to
be found in our “yes” to the call of Christ. Our fullness is to be found in
obedience.
The Kingdom does not come on the fullness or emptiness
of success or failure. The Kingdom is seen and built on the courageous “yes” of
congregations that hear Jesus say, “Follow me.” The stuff of the Kingdom is the
understanding that fullness is to be found in the call and the power of Christ.
It’s
going to be awhile before Jesus can change “Simon, the Fisherman’s” name to “Peter,
the Rock.” At the end of our scripture passage and our time together this
morning, Simon is still Simon. Do you know the feeling? Church is over, and
Simon is still Simon, you are still you, and we are still us. But there is hope
for Simon and for us; there is life and hope in the call and teachings of
Jesus.
Jesus will show Simon time and time again that He
(Jesus) has the power to conquer the sea. In Simon’s presence Jesus will calm
the stormy sea. Jesus will take Simon for a walk on the sea. Jesus called forth
the fish of the sea, but He called Simon away from the sea. Who can figure out the mind of Christ? We must
simply hear and answer. He called Simon saying, “Follow me and become a fisher
of people…all people.” This morning that same Jesus calls us who have gathered
here at the bottom of this empty net, saying “Follow me and be fishers of
people; all people, all people.”
His call
doesn’t mean follow me and capture
people. It means follow me in the gathering
of people into community with God and the Church. Gather them into loving
communion. Tell them that Jesus is their loving brother and that, in Christ, we
are their brothers and sisters. Be fishers of people, all people, that they may
be gathered into life in Christ, into His new kind of abundance, into His new
kind of fullness.
We say,
“Yes, Lord, we will follow. Lord, help us.”
Griff, come up here and take the helm. Jesus is in
your boat.
Amen.
*artwork: Fisher of Men, Painting by Vasiliy Myazin, myazin.com
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