And Jesus, walking by the Sea of Galilee, saw two brothers, Simon called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen. Then He said to them, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.” They immediately left their nets and followed Him. Matthew 4:18-20
Disclaimer: I may be southern, but I’m really not a fisherman. (Yeah I know, no one’s surprised, here.)
I think too often we think about the disciples in a different way than we think about people today. Part of that is contextual, but a lot of that is failing to see the humanity and normality in these men that Jesus chose. But for whatever reason, God gave my right-sided brain a way to see myself in these verses. So go ahead and get a laugh imagining me chilling on a boat as a full-time fisherman but try and see the point I’m trying to make here. This story, it’s about the disciples, yes – but it’s also about you and me, too.
It’s just another day on the job. Throw the nets in, pull them out, repeat. It’s not even boring anymore, honestly. There’s something kindof therapeutic about routine and knowing more or less what you’re getting yourself into everyday. Then, in the middle of my work day – this Man shows up, in the distance on the shore. I’m lowkey staring at Him because one, it’s obvious He doesn’t come from around here, and two, basically, He’s intriguing. I squint my eyes to try and get a better look at… Oh crap. He sees me. He’s waving. At me? Ok yeah, he’s definitely waving me over. I look around. This would typically not be an issue but I’m on a boat, so going over to Him is quite the task. I hesitate. He calls to me, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.” And just like that – as soon as He speaks, I know this Man is worth following. So I go.
As I’m approaching the shore, I’m thinking over the line He said, “I will make you fishers of men.” Like what does that mean? Maybe He was confused, and He needs me because I’m a fisherman? Who knows. I grab my nets and some gear to bring, just in case. I get off the boat and walk up to Him.
“You don’t need those for fishing, anymore,” He says. “You can leave them here.” He starts walking and motions for me to follow.
I stand still for a second, thinking. Leave them here? I think. Why would I leave my fishing gear here to go fishing? I pretend I don’t hear Him and keep walking. After several minutes, He turns to me and sees me clearly struggling to hold all my gear and match His pace.
“Casey,” He says. “Give Me one of those things to hold for you.”
See, I knew I needed all this stuff. And it’s about time He offered to help me carry it all, honestly. This whole thing was His idea, after all. I hand him a net. He smiles, throws my net off the side of the trail, and keeps walking. I’m sorry, what the heck??, I think. That was mine, and you literally just chucked it into oblivion and now I’ll never get it back and that’s not really fair. We continue to walk, and I continue to struggle with all the things I’m holding onto. Eventually, He asks for every piece of gear I’m holding.
“Trust Me,” He says, extending His hand. “What I have is better.”
So I reluctantly hand something over again and again, until I’m left holding only one tiny little fishing lure. And oddly enough, there’s something comforting about holding onto this little fishing lure. This, I think, isn’t going anywhere. This is mine. I’m filled with relief, to have some tangible little piece of home, some comfort in this long journey going only God knows where. I begin to think about all the good times I’ve had with this lure. We walk for a few miles and honestly, I’m looking down at this little fishing lure in my hand more than I’m even watching where I need to be going.
As I’m daydreaming, I trip. Luckily, the Man catches me before I hit the ground. “Sorry,” I said. “I uh, I wasn’t paying attention.” He smiles, and looks me right in the eye. “Where’s your fishing lure?” He asks.
I panic. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. He knows. How did He even notice that?! I think. I tighten my grip on the lure in my hand.
“What?” I ask, acting like I don’t know what He’s talking about.
“Your fishing lure,” He repeats. “In your hand. Can you give it to me?” He outstretches His hand for me to give it to Him.
Um NO, I think. It’s mine, and you are not taking it from me! I’m angry, I’m confused, I’m sad, I’m overwhelmed – all at once. I can feel my eyes stinging with tears. “I just want to hold it in my hand and I won’t look at it anymore, please…” I choke back. His posture stay the same, with His hand open in front of mine. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I place the lure in His hand. He tucks it away in His robes.
Part of me knows that crying over this fishing lure is absolutely ridiculous, but part of me also feels totally justifiably angry that He would take away something that means so much to me. And then, all at once, I’m faced with the reality that I’m holding nothing. Nothing. I’m just walking and following this Man and He’s taken the things that I love, and now I have no idea what I’m doing. I brought my best things, and He took them all claiming His were better. Well where are your things, then?? What things does He even have? Where are we even going? Should I have even come? These questions are racing in my head, filling me with insecurity, sadness, nostalgia, confusion.
And in that moment, He puts His hand in mine. Everything inside me calms. I look at Him. Again, like every time before, He says, “Trust Me.” And even though I’m kindof annoyed at Him, it’s pretty crazy how much more comforted I feel holding onto the hand of the Man that’s leading me than I did holding onto a lifeless fishing lure.
“I know that was hard,” He says. “But it’s for your good. It’s not enough to only follow Me with your feet, I call you to also follow Me in your heart.”
Does that sound familiar in your life? It does mine. Right when I get settled into a thing – even a good thing! – Jesus shows up and says, great job doing this thing! But now let’s go over here and do this thing. As a Christian, I choose to believe that where He’s leading me is better, even when it doesn’t make perfect sense in my brain. So I take a step. And then in my head I say, good job self! you are so selfless! way to follow even when it’s hard!
But here’s the catch. (haha, punny get it? Fisherman jokes..)
Following Him means following Him with all that you are. Not just with your feet, but with your heart, too.
If I’m honest, I want to go to the next thing and also get to keep the current thing. My relationships, my security, my role, my day to day routine. Sure God, I want to go and follow You on the World Race, but I also want things to work out exactly how I want them to when I come back. My heart gets wrapped up in the things He’s given me rather than Him himself.
Jesus asks, do you trust Me? And while my immediate response is ‘Yes!” – my immediate posture is to turn my shoulder, tighten my grip, and protect all my beloved people and things from being taken away from me.
In Jesus’ eyes, watching me trying to hold onto all the things of my life is as obvious if the disciples had tried to bring along all their fishing gear when He called them to follow Him.
So, not gonna lie, this season of my life has been really hard. It’s looked a lot like Jesus prying my little fingers open to give Him the control of what’s His anyways. To grieve that those things aren’t mine to hold. To trust that what He’s got in store is what I need, even if it’s not what I want. That where He has me is the best place I could be. To embrace reckless abandonment because I love Him more than I love what He gives.
Because here’s the thing. His question was never, Will you go there when I call you to? His question has always been, Do you trust Me with your whole life?
That means following when He calls, stewarding His gifts well, and having open hands with every piece of my heart and life. And let me tell you, IT IS SO HARD. And uncomfortable, and bittersweet. But it’s good. And even more – it’s life, and life to the fullest.
“Safe? Who said anything about safe? Course He isn’t safe. But He’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” –C.S. Lewis
