God of the living word, give us the faith to receive your message, the wisdom to know what it means, and the courage to put it into practice. Amen.
With astonishing deed you answer our prayers for deliverance, O God our Saviour; you that are the hope of all the ends of the earth, and of the far off seas. Amen
A busy fisherman ponders the catch of his day on the sea. He begins to clean-up the boat, mending and folding up the nets so that he will be well-prepared for tomorrow’s work.
“Life is good,” he says to himself. “Every day is a challenge. Every day is unpredictable – the weather can be terrible, the water can be rough, and the fish can be elusive. But for the most part, with patience, some luck and a bit of skill, I can do just fine as a fisherman. I do not need to take on any new tasks or responsibilities. I can be a proud, good fisher of fish.”
How we can empathize with this fisherman. We may not know how to cast nets for fish, but we have our own day-to-day responsibilities and routines – often enough a challenge and at times unpredictable. Status quo—that sense of being on an even keel within known boundaries--can be a comforting reward for honest hard work.
Perhaps we are most vulnerable during such times of satisfaction.
In our scripture, four men – all experienced, successful, talented fishermen – suddenly find themselves faced with an unforeseen, entirely new challenge. Peter, Andrew, James and John hear the invitation of Jesus: “Follow me.”
We might call the response of the fishermen rather reckless. They do not take the time to form a review committee of the “plusses and minuses” of following Jesus. They do not check in with their elders, therapists or spiritual directors. They do not pause to call spouses or families. They drop their nets, leave their boats and begin a brand new fishing expedition: they go after people – God’s people.
A little prodding, a telephone call, a subconscious voice – and we find the spirit to assume a new set of challenges.
A young teenager is asked to be the viola player for a Christmas Eve midnight worship service here at Holy Comforter. We are in the early 1960s, and our young friend has been asked to do something he has never done before – to play his viola in front of his congregation.
The teenager nervously arrives at the church before the service. Looking for a space with some privacy, he wanders up to the auditorium to practice and warm up.
“For the first time in my life I chose to pray – to pray to God to be with me,” he tells me. “I was so nervous. But, in praying, something changed. In those next few moments, a peace came over me. That peacefulness remained with me, all the way through my performance, all through the Christmas service.”
“My mother asked me afterward what had come over me, as she had never seen me so confident, so calm, and playing so well. I did tell her what had happened.”
Jean McAdams was the mother. We buried Jean this past week. Jim McAdams, Jean’s son, shared his touching memory with me while here for his mother’s funeral service.
Jim was called to do something new –to carry out a task because someone else had faith in his strength. He was not sure he could pull it off.
“Come and follow me, I will make you fish for people,” Jesus says.
I am sure that young Jim McAdams brought the Holy Comforter congregation to a fresh spirit, to the Light of Incarnation, during that Christmas Eve service so many decades ago.
Someone has said, “Nobody can be a disciple without leaving something behind.” And Oliver Wendell Holmes builds on that thought with: “A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimension.”
“A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimension.”
The four reckless fishermen can never even search for fish in the same way again. They leave behind a chapter of their lives as they begin something new.
The transformation begins with the moment of baptism. Just as Simon Peter, Andrew, James and John, we are called by God to be evangelists of the faith, to be “fishers of people” in Christ’s name.
I guess you might say that “fishing” is what I do from the pulpit every Sunday – a bit of fishing for your hearts and souls, a gentle nudge to us all, that we may better respond to God’s gifts through the lens of His gracious call.
A story is told about a teacher who invites a pompous professor for tea one day. As the teacher pours the tea into the professor’s cup, the cup fills up, while the teacher keeps pouring and pouring, the hot tea spilling over the sides of the cup, into the saucer and onto the rug.
“It is over full,” the professor astutely says. “No more can go in the cup.”
“Like this cup,” responds his host, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations, and you use lots of words to express them. How can we be taught unless we first empty our own cups, and maybe even use fewer words?”
I have no doubt that each of you has felt that sense of the cup of Good News from the pulpit “over the brim of the cup” and past time for the preacher to keep pouring.
Sometimes we preachers are so enthusiastic in opportunities for evangelism and the spread of Christ’s Good News in the world. The Gospel can be so compelling that clergy all too often may preach “the unnecessary to the unwilling” in eager attempts to convey our interpretations of the Word of God. Still, I’ll take the risk, believing in my soul that it is in the call of baptism--even more than the vow of ordination--that I prepare a sermon text, visit a friend in the hospital, plan for a Monday parish planning session or hold a Tuesday staff meeting.
Absolutely, the call of baptism is most fundamental in naming me—and you—to the risky business of following our Lord.
“Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your savior?”
“Do you renounce the evil power of this world which draws you from the love of God?”
“Come. Follow me.”
Over and over, we realize that, in the approach of the stranger Jesus, we are called and forever changed. Jim McAdams discovered a new truth when he least expected it. We reflect on the satisfaction of a day’s work, we clean the boat, mend and fold the nets, the sun is setting and life is good—
And then we hear the call, astonishing and clear: Turn, follow, heed only the love of God.
“Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation.”
Amen.
The Episcopal Church of the Holy Comforter, a parish of The Episcopal Diocese of North Carolina
Copyright ©2007 The Episcopal Church of the Holy Comforter. All rights reserved.