Yet If You Say So

 Luke 5:1-11

February 6, 2022

 

One of the first things I had to learn how to do when I answered the call to go to seminary, to seek a life in ministry, was tell people about the call that I answered.
            “Tell me about your call,” was a phrase I heard often. It was asked of me by the committee on preparation for ministry when I went to them wanting to become an Inquirer, the first step in the long process of becoming a minister. I was asked this by people at the seminary when they were talking to me about admissions. I was asked this by people in my home church when I asked the Session to support me. And, when I started in seminary, my fellow classmates and I time sharing call stories. “Tell me about your call,” was another way of asking “Why are you here? What brought you here? What brought you to this moment in your life, when you decided to follow God vocationally, spiritually, emotionally?”

“Tell me about your call.”

Some of my classmates had dramatic stories of call. Others were people who had been considering ministry most of their lives. Others, like me, were kind of in the middle. Our story wasn’t really dramatic, but we recognized it at a critical moment in our lives and we took the leap of faith.

“Tell me about your call.”

Throughout scripture, we have dramatic stories of call. Moses hears the voice of God calling him from a burning bush. Samuel hears the voice of God calling him when he was just a little boy. Jonah hears God’s call, and well, he had to be convinced. Then we have the story of Isaiah in our first lesson this morning. Talk about dramatic! Isaiah sees the Lord sitting on a high throne and the Lord’s robe is so massive that just the hem of it fills the entire temple. And there are seraphs waiting attendance on the Lord. They are flying about, these creatures with six wings, and they are calling out,

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.”

And Isaiah is overwhelmed by his guilt, his uncleanness as a lowly human being. And then one of the seraphs flies over and touches his lips with a burning coal, which cleanses him from his guilt and sin. And Isaiah hears the Lord asking, “Whom shall I send?” And Isaiah cries out, “Me! Here am I! Send me!”

And then we have the call to Simon, James, and John. Only, it doesn’t read quite like other call stories read. It is certainly filled with some drama, but unlike Matthew and Mark, Jesus does not say the words, “Follow me.” As far as I can tell, there is not a specific call given. Yet, this is a call story. And it is a miracle story. And it is kind of a teaching story too.

Jesus was standing on the shore of Lake Gennesaret, and the crowds who were beginning to follow him, hungry for his teaching, his healing, his ministry, were pressing in on him. Jesus did what he sometimes had to do, he got into a boat and went out on the water a little way so he could continue to teach the crowds but not be pushed into the water by their need to be close to him.

It was Simon’s boat that Jesus got into, and when Jesus was finished teaching, he asked Simon to row out to deeper water and let down his nets. Although the text does not tell us specifically what time of day it was, I imagine that it must have been early in the morning. And the reason I suspect that is because when Jesus asked this of Simon, Simon responds,

“Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so I will let down the nets.”

They had worked all night long. The reason Simon’s boat was close enough to the shore for Jesus to climb into was because, I imagine, they were finished and coming to shore to tie up their boats, repair their nets, maybe get something to eat and try to rest a little before the next night’s work.

I don’t hear obstinance or argument in Simon’s response to Jesus. If anything, I hear weary defeat. We have been at this all night long. We didn’t catch anything. I have been doing this work for a long time now. I know when its time to call it, when its time to go back to the shore and wait for another night. I know this work, Jesus, I know these waters, Jesus, and there’s no fish to be caught. Yet if you say so.

What made Simon agree? What made Simon defer to Jesus’ request? What caused Simon to say, “Yet if you say so.” This was not Simon’s first encounter with Jesus. Unlike the way Mark and Matthew tell it, where the reader does not know for sure whether the fishermen have had any previous contact with Jesus, in Luke we know Simon has. Jesus has already healed Simon’s mother-in-law. Simon has seen what Jesus can do. Surely, the crowds pressing in on Jesus to hear him, be near him, clued Simon in on the fact that this man was different. So, while Simon did not necessarily think that dropping the nets one more time was a worthwhile effort, Jesus was different. Simon knew it, and he responded.

Yet if you say so.

And what a catch it was! Simon’s nets were overflowing. He had to call the others to bring their boats and help him. The catch was so mighty that their boats began to sink under the weight of all those fish.

All. Those. Fish. When Simon sees this, when he tries to take in what had just happened, he falls to his knees before Jesus, in awe and in dread, and says,

“Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”

When Simon sees with his own eyes, and recognizes with his own heart, that Jesus is not just another wandering preacher, but maybe, just maybe, God in the flesh, he sees just how sinful and human he truly is. Like Isaiah, he is acutely aware of his own sinfulness in this moment. But Jesus says words that we hear over and over again in our scripture.

Do not be afraid.

“Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.”

Our English translations don’t capture the full meaning of Jesus’ words. Catching people sounds like entrapment, like ensnaring them. But the implication in the Greek is that catching people is not like pulling fish into nets for food but rescuing men and women from a path that will lead only to death and turning them toward life. Catching people is turning people toward life.

And maybe that is what Simon recognizes in this moment. Maybe that is what makes him fall to his knees. Maybe that is what clicks in his mind, registers in his heart. This is the One who will turn him toward life. And without a second thought, he and James and John, the son of Zebedee, leave this abundance. They leave their boats at the shoreline, they leave this tremendous, overwhelming, extravagant catch of fish and they follow Jesus.

In this remarkable call story, Jesus does not issue a call. He does not say the words, “follow me.” He does not invite them to come and see where he is abiding. He just shows them what life – abundant, extravagant, God-filled life – looks like. And they leave everything and follow him.

Yet if you say so.

Jesus tells Simon to let down the nets just one more time and everything changes. Contrary to what your experience as a fisherman and your commonsense tells you, let down your nets one more time. Even though you’ve been out all night with nothing to show for it, even though you’re tired and hungry and you want to go home and rest, just let down your nets one more time. Yet if you say so, Simon says, And Simon does.

And the whole world changed.

In this time when everything feels uncertain and off. In this time when we may be struggling with worries and fears that seem too big to share, when we feel most days like we are at the end of our ropes. At this time when we wonder what will happen in our jobs, in our families, in this church, Jesus calls us to let down our nets just one more time. Let them down just one more time. And even though we think we know that nothing will be different, that nothing will come from it, we do. Like Simon we respond, “Yet if you say so.” And the whole world changes.

Where in your life do you feel weary and defeated? Where in your life do you think no difference can be made? Let down your nets. Just once more. Let them down. Take the leap of faith that Simon took and let them down and trust that God will show you life in abundance.

Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”

Amen.