Last week, I ventured out of my warm bed in the dark to check out the sunrise at Port Harford. The atmosphere was cold, damp, and windy with a swirl of exhaust in the air. Sitting in my car at the parking lot, I noticed a line of brave souls waiting to launch their boats. I imagined the excitement dancing in their heads as they anticipated the successful challenge they would face and the big fish, or fish story, they would take home. I was amazed at their motivation and tenacity. I’m not a fisherman; I feed the fish more than they feed me. I’m happy to fish with my eyes from shore and my feet firmly on the ground.
I was reminded of the story of the discouraged Peter and his fellow fishermen-turned-disciples after Jesus died on the cross. It had been a rush of emotions and a blur of activities: Was he—is he—dead? He’s alive! He’s here! He’s gone! What’s up? Fishing had its challenges, but it gave the disciples a living. They could feel it, smell it, and hear it. Being a disciple was very different. It touched their hearts, souls, and minds. It was big on ideas and miracles, but it had evaporated like the morning fog.
“What should we do? Let’s go back to fishing.”
Peter, son of Jonas, must have been the ring leader in getting a majority to go for it. Their lack of success that night must have deepened their discouragement. They must have thought, How are we going to eat, pay our bills, and repair our reputation?
Then, someone called out from shore with a question and strange advice. “Cast your nets on the other side.”
“What does this stranger know about fishing?”
“What have we got to lose, Peter? Let’s try it.”
“Oh my God! Bingo!”
Their focus narrows in on bringing in the catch, grabbing the fish escaping from the nets. John then tells Peter it’s the Lord. All attention is riveted on the One they thought they knew so well as Peter puts his clothes on, jumps in and swims to shore. He’s probably remembering the time he walked on water. Their Master had breakfast ready—their favorite and most common dish, fish and bread.
The recorded conversation between Jesus and Peter, the one who had denied Him three times in rapid succession, is so powerful.
“Peter, do you love me more than these?”
“What a silly question! You know I love you most. You’ve done so much for me...all of us.”
“Feed my lambs.”
“Okay.”
“Do you love me?”
“Without question.”
“Feed my sheep.”
“Peter, the question is, do you love me?”
“I get it...finally! I gave the cowardly answer three times the other cold night around that warm fire. Yes, I love you more than life itself. I will become your shepherd and feed your flock. Thank you for giving me a second chance.”
“Peter, remember, we are best friends forever. I will always welcome you no matter what.”
I picture a big, manly embrace and a long hold.
Peter was given a choice of careers. The first recruitment invitation was to be a Master Fisherman of men. The last request was to be a Master Shepherd of youth and adults. Our call is to be kindergarten teachers, builders, tax collectors, doctors, lawyers, seamstresses, cooks—using any of the gifts we enjoy—but we must always be masters at our posts. Note the two opposing arrows on the parking lot asphalt in the picture above. We are given choices; that’s the way of freedom and love. “Choose ye this day.”
—Larry Smith