The Fisherman Read online

  I didn’t dare answer for fear they would storm the house. I just closed the door, walked back inside, and said, “Jesus, what are we going to do?” By “we” I of course meant “you,” and he responded immediately by opening the door and walking out into the middle of that mob. For the next five or six hours, Jesus touched, freed, healed, and released. James, John, Andrew, and I organized, directed, controlled, and reassured those waiting their turn. Finally, about one o’ clock in the morning, the last suffering son of Abraham was sent home. We dragged ourselves inside and collapsed into bed. Jesus spent what was left of the night with us. I dozed off hoping for at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

  Less than four hours later the sound of voices outside our door jolted me out of a deep sleep. I’ve never been at my best when I first wake up and definitely not after half a night’s sleep. I stumbled to the front door, peeked out, and saw a repeat of the night before. People! Hundreds and hundreds of people. Where were they all coming from? Now I knew what it felt like to be under siege.

  I quickly closed the door and stumbled back into the house, looking for Jesus. It took only a few minutes to discover he wasn’t there. Now what was I supposed to do? I got Andrew up and explained the situation to him. We both agreed we had to find the Master and find him fast. He couldn’t have returned to his own place, or this mob would have already discovered it. We agreed to leave the house, head in separate directions so the crowd wouldn’t think we were going to a rendezvous with Jesus, then meet at the boat and begin our search in earnest.

  Our escape plan worked fine. When the people saw us leave without Jesus, they paid little attention and lost interest altogether when we split up. Once we regrouped on the beach, I suggested searching several secluded coves just outside of town.

  He wasn’t hard to find. He had been praying, and I felt embarrassed barging in, but I didn’t know what else to do. When he looked up, I said simply, “All the people are looking for you.” Neither my arrival nor my words seemed to offend him. He joined me, and we met Andrew and then James and John on the beach.

  After greeting them Jesus told us he wanted to go to the towns nearby so he could preach there too.

  He wanted to go immediately. I told the group I would let Ruth know we were heading out of town and then catch up with them in a few minutes. My return home seemed to cause more interest with the crowd than had my departure, especially because I was obviously in a hurry. I gave Ruth a quick update on our plans, told her I had no idea when I would be back, and attempted once again to stroll casually out the door. This time it didn’t work. I was hit with a sudden urge to run. I wasn’t exactly built for speed, though, so most of the mob had no problem keeping up with me. We must have looked ridiculous—several hundred frantic people thundering through town after a huge, red-faced, puffing, panic-stricken man. When I finally made it back to Jesus, I blundered into his presence with the whole multitude at my heels. Stealth and subtlety have never been among my stronger qualities.

  Jesus was not harsh with those who were determined to claim him as Capernaum’s private prophet and healer, but he was firm and direct. He assured them he would be back but also made it clear that his message and his work belonged to the entire nation. They were not to follow him but to wait for his return.

  His first extended trip through Galilee lasted nearly a month. Jesus went from village to village, town to town, teaching in the synagogues, proclaiming what he called “the good news of the kingdom of God.” He healed every sickness and infirmity among the people he met and cast out numerous demons. News of his works went before him, and it wasn’t long before each new village greeted him with a tremendous sense of anticipation. It wasn’t unusual for us to be met at the outskirts of a community by a pack of excited children, placed there on watch for our arrival. As soon as we came into view, they turned and ran through the village, calling out, “He’s here! He’s here!” Their cries brought people from every corner of the community, all wanting to meet the amazing prophet with hands that could heal.

  Though I didn’t realize it at the time, Jesus used our early travels together to show us by example how we were to present him to the world in the years ahead. From the first moment I met Jesus, I knew he was unlike any other leader I had ever met before. You see, Jesus never attempted to win people to himself. Unlike all the other leaders I’d known, Jesus never attempted to create a following.

  His approach to Israel was simple: He stepped into the center of our world. Through his words and his actions he enabled everyone to see exactly who he was and what he was like. Then he allowed us to decide for ourselves what we would do about it.

  His use of his healing abilities is a good example. During the time of his public ministry, Jesus healed thousands of people. But not once did he use his healing powers as a hook with which to hold another human being. Never did he say, “If you follow me, I will heal you,” or “Because I have healed you, I now expect you to follow me.” He didn’t “buy” people with his power. He didn’t manipulate people with his persuasive abilities. He just stepped into their lives, allowed them to see him as he was, and then gave them the freedom to decide what they would do with what they had seen.

  Most people were well pleased to take whatever they could get from the Master and then walk away. If they wanted healing, they would take healing. If they wanted entertainment, they would join the crowd, watch the show, and listen to the Master teach. Then, when the party was over, they walked away unchanged. My brother Matthew liked to call those people “the multitudes.” It was a good name for them—an unthinking mass of humanity taking what came without charge, closing their eyes to the reality of what they were seeing and hearing.

  Then there were some who hated Jesus from the moment he entered town because he threatened their power and control in the community. They challenged him whenever they could, they raised questions about the source of his power, they attacked and undermined his work whenever they had the chance, and they rejoiced when he walked out of town.

  And finally, there were those of us who . . . well, those who entered into his love. There was only one requirement for this—we had to want him more than we wanted anything else. There were thousands and thousands who wanted what he could give. There were not many who wanted him. But something amazing took place in our lives when we reached that point. I can describe it only by saying he gave us himself. He allowed us to see his heart, and in so doing he created between himself and each of us a depth of intimacy unlike anything else we’d ever known before. He ceased to be just the Prophet or the Healer or the Great Teacher and became our friend. He listened to us. He laughed with us. He lived with us. He opened his heart and his mind to us, and what we saw there changed everything forever because what we saw there was ourselves. We were in his heart, in his mind. Having seen that, life could never be the same again. Most of those we encountered, however, were never able to see his heart because they were never willing to give him theirs.

  During the years since his departure, I have tried hard to duplicate the pattern Jesus modeled for us when he was here. It is not my responsibility to attempt to sell Jesus to the world or rally the masses to follow his teachings. It is my responsibility to present him as simply and accurately as possible and let people decide for themselves what they will do with the Master. The few who submit to him on his terms will know his heart and his love as I have known it. The rest will walk away. Or worse, they will attempt to use him for their own ends.

  Already our Christian world is filled with those who are busy building their little empires in the name of Jesus. Brother Paul made a comment in one of the letters he wrote to the Christians in Corinth. He said, “We are not like many, peddling the word of God.” And there are many. I can hear them now: “Who wants salvation? Who wants healing? Who wants peace? Step right up! Jesus can give you what you want.” The focus, of course, is always on what we want, not on what he wants. And the result is an endless river of religious sewage, flowin
g out of the septic system of our own selfish pride.

  That first teaching tour with the Master was a wonderful experience for me, with one significant exception. My anxiety over how I was going to provide for my family increased with every additional day I was away from home. My grand plan for night fishing was being postponed far longer than I had anticipated, and though I didn’t dare discuss the subject with Jesus, I was a mess by the time we finally returned home.

  We arrived back in Bethsaida in the early afternoon, exactly four weeks from the day we left. In some ways it seemed as if I had been gone a year. So much had happened since that morning when I peeked out on a sea of damaged humanity in front of our house. It was wonderful seeing Ruth again and telling her all about our trip. I was relieved to find out that friends and family who knew I was traveling with Jesus had met her needs during my absence. But it was also good to know I could once again take over that responsibility.

  We were all exhausted from the trip, but I persuaded Andrew, James, and John that there was no telling how long Jesus would remain home. It was essential for us to implement our nighttime fishing strategy immediately. We rested a few hours, ate dinner with the family, and then headed to the boats.

  I cannot recall a worse fishing experience in my life than the twelve hours we spent on the Sea of Galilee that night. The wind howled, making both the rowing and the fishing an agonizing experience. There was only a sliver of a moon, and the near total darkness made it almost impossible to position our boats accurately, to see where our nets had been thrown, or to see what was in them when we brought them up, though in truth we didn’t need to see to know what was in our nets. Throughout the entire night we fought the waves, cast our nets, hauled them in, fought the waves, cast our nets, hauled them in, again and again, and never caught a single fish. We went from frustration, to irritation, to helpless anger, to despair. As the sun rose we finally folded our nets and fought our way back to the shore.

  The scene that greeted us on the beach was almost more than I could handle. Word of Jesus’ return home had spread quickly throughout the region. Jesus was standing at the water’s edge with several hundred people packed around him. Many at the back of the crowd were attempting to squirm closer to the Master, which only caused the mass to pack in around Jesus more and more tightly. His feet were already in the water, but with none of us there to establish a perimeter around him, the crowd continued to surge forward.

  We beached our boats a few feet on either side of Jesus with the hope of providing him with some measure of protection. James, John, and Andrew hopped out and tried to clear a little area around him, so he could at least stand up without being driven into the sea. I went to the back of our boat and began cleaning our nets. I was grumpy and exhausted and in no mood for yet another mob scene.

  Then, as I wrestled with a tangle in one of the nets, I suddenly felt the boat shift under the weight of someone jumping aboard. I turned around and saw Jesus looking at me.

  “Say, Simon, why don’t we push out a few feet from the shore so I can teach without being driven into the sea in the process?”

  He knew I was grumpy. He knew I was tired. He knew I had been out fishing all night. But he also knew I was finally ready for my first lesson in the difference between life in the flesh and life in the Spirit. He had me trapped, and he seemed to be well pleased with the arrangement.

  Andrew gave us a push away from the shore, then jumped on board himself. We let the boat float out about thirty feet, then dropped the anchor. As soon as the crowd saw that no amount of pushing and shoving would get them near enough to touch Jesus, they settled down, then sat down on the beach.

  Jesus sat at the front of our boat and taught for several hours that morning. He spoke on one of his favorite themes—the heavenly Father’s willingness and ability to provide for those who trust him. His words sounded great, but everything he said just made me feel more grumpy. Talking about God’s care and provision was fine, but after fishing for a full night without a single fish to show for it, the application part of this whole thing left something to be desired.

  When he finished his teaching, he turned to me and said, “Now, Simon, put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”

  I couldn’t let this pass without saying something. I was tired. I was hungry. I felt like I had just been preached at by a deeply sincere man who wasn’t in touch with the practical realities of life. Maybe I didn’t know as much about the sacred writings as I should, but I knew a whole lot about fishing, and I knew there were no fish out there—not today, not in this location. It was time to introduce Jesus to my area of expertise.

  “Master, we worked hard all night and caught nothing, but at your request I will let down the nets.”

  There! That was as tactful as I could be. If he wanted to go on a little fishing trip after his morning teaching session, I would do that for him, but he might as well know the truth right now—there would be no fish in the net.

  Andrew and I pulled the boat out a couple hundred feet from the shore. We both knew it was a terrible location, but after last night we also knew it didn’t really matter. This wasn’t about fishing; this was about giving Jesus a relaxing little boat trip and escaping from the crowds for a few hours.

  I must admit I became rather parental with Jesus at that point. If he wanted a fishing lesson, I would give him a fishing lesson. I went into great detail showing him how to correctly hold the net for proper casting, how to coordinate the back, leg, shoulder, and arm muscles to get good distance from the throw. After introducing him to the basics I gave a demonstration throw, dropping the net just where I wanted it to go. With one painful exception several years later, that was the last time I ever cast that net.

  Few things in my life have impacted me more deeply than what took place during the next few minutes. Having completed Simon’s little lesson in professional fishing, I started to pull the empty net back to the boat. Then, suddenly the water between our boat and the net began to churn and roll as if it were boiling. The turmoil under the surface was so intense it caused the boat to rock violently. The rope in my hand went instantly tight, and I braced myself and pulled with all my strength. At the same instant I saw what was causing the sea to churn—fish! Hundreds and hundreds of fish, more fish than I had ever seen in one place at one time in my life.

  I called to Andrew for help, and he grabbed hold and pulled with me. As we strained at the ropes, I peered over the side and was shocked to see what appeared to be several thousand fish all attempting to pack themselves into our net at once. It looked as though they were fighting for the honor of being caught. The weight of the net was far beyond our ability to handle, and I turned my head to shore and bellowed for James and John to come help. By the time they reached us, Andrew and I had been able to bring the edge of the net up high enough so that we could scoop fish into our boat. We scooped and scooped and scooped and scooped until the boat was so low in the water I was afraid we would sink. And still the net was packed with fish. We maneuvered the other boat alongside the net and filled it as well, then rowed the boats to shore, dragging the half-filled net behind us.

  The range of thoughts and emotions I experienced during that quarter hour of chaos was unlike anything I had ever known before. At the first sight of all those fish, my initial reaction was the kind of elated greed I always experienced with a great catch. But it wasn’t more than a few minutes before it became obvious even to me that what was happening here had nothing to do with fish. At one point in the harvesting process, I glanced up into Jesus’ eyes and saw once again what I had seen so many times before—he knew. He knew about my plan to live a double life, to be a disciple by day and a fisherman by night. He knew the plan was rooted in the great false foundation of my existence—my unquestioning confidence in my own natural abilities. He knew my commitment to him was deep and genuine, but he also knew my practical trust in him was almost nonexistent. He knew I understood the world of the flesh perfectly and
the world of the Spirit not at all. And in that instant I knew why I had fished all night and caught nothing. I caught nothing because he had told the fish to go away, just as he now told the fish to come.

  I wonder if you can understand the terror that thought created in my mind. It shook the great pillars of my life. It meant that my effort, my abilities, my determination, and my physical strength were not and could not be my bottom line. It meant I was free to crank out as much effort and energy as I wanted to, but somehow this man could control what resulted from that effort. I felt suddenly, terribly ashamed—ashamed I hadn’t talked to him about my worries, ashamed I hadn’t trusted him, and ashamed most of all because he knew what was in my mind.

  I waded through the fish to where Jesus stood, dropped to my knees at his feet, then blurted out, “O Lord! Stay away from me, for I am a sinful man.”

  I didn’t deserve these fish. I didn’t deserve his kindness. I didn’t deserve his friendship or his involvement in my life.

  Jesus reached down, took my arm, and brought me to my feet. He wanted to see my eyes; he wanted me to see his. He said simply, “Don’t be afraid. From now on you will be catching men.”

  Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid of him. Don’t be afraid of his ability to take care of my family. Don’t be afraid of the future he has for me. Don’t be afraid to walk away from the boat, the nets, and the illusion of security they provide. The issue was trust, of course—my willingness to trust him. It was just a beginning, but it was that. I had still learned very little about the difference between life in the flesh and life in the Spirit. But at least my double life ended that day. I ceased to be a disciple by day and a fisherman by night. From that day forward I became a full-time disciple of my Lord Jesus Christ. True, it was still a discipleship with deep roots in the flesh, but it was a start. And at that point it was all the Master asked of me because he knew it was all I was able to give. The teacher wanted my full attention, and now it was his. At last we were ready for class to begin.