First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
October 21, 2001
Scripture: John 21:1-8
I just spent 72 hours in Indianapolis, touching base and trading war stories, while talking through the agony and ecstasy of ministry with 25 colleagues who serve United Methodist churches of a similar size to this one. This is as close as I come to people who understand what I do. Which is why I move heaven and earth to participate when the invitation comes around. We change our location yearly. Last year, Dallas. This year, Indianapolis. Next year, Fort Lauderdale. The year after that, here. The long of it is that we range wide. The short of it is that we dig deep. I never fail to learn new facts or hear great lines….like the one from the lips of my friend who began his time of sharing by saying: “I am in my 18th year of a church that has grown beyond me.”
Not all the stories are successes. Preachers are a lot like pitchers. None of us wins twenty, annually. Our group helps put the bad years into perspective. Especially when there’s no time for other remedies….like fishing. It surprised me to learn how many of my colleagues fish. Especially since I don’t. One, who is about to retire in January, said: “My only plan, so far, involves fishing in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.” Another, limited by a blood clot that put her in the hospital on Good Friday and kept her off her feet for several months, said: “I am still not one hundred percent, but I did go trout fishing last week.” While a third, clearly overstressed by the problems of a new appointment, sighed heavily and said: “One day I woke up and realized I hadn’t been fishing in two summers.”
For these three (and others), fishing is a blend of relaxation and therapy. It’s neither for me. Or hasn’t been, thus far. But you already know that, given my confession in Steeple Notes that while I eat fish, I don’t catch fish (save for a 13-pound king salmon, first time out, which enabled me to retire undefeated).
Jerry Patterson read my account and brought me a small part of his recent catch. What you see in my hand is the skull of a piranha. Jerry and Liz flew to Peru, took a trip down the Amazon, and caught their limit (if there really is a limit on Peru piranha). Then they ate them. Which surprised me, given that I tend to associate “piranha” with the word “danger,” rather than the word “dinner.” Piranha are attack fish, killer fish, flesh-eating fish. Concerning them, if a cow should wade into a river and meet up with a school of them, that cow would be a pile of bones in a matter of minutes.
During the 8:15 service, Lucille Zube saw my piranha skull and raced home, returning with a stuffed piranha mounted on a plaque. Who knows where this will end. But both versions feature sharp teeth….which (no doubt) once were deadly. Jerry says that piranha range from six to ten inches in length and come in one of two primary colors….some scarlet….others gray. Sort of like Ohio State. But Jerry says that the taste is decent, albeit bland. Again, sort of like Ohio State. But enough of that.
What we have before us for not one, not two, but three Sunday mornings, is a fishing story. In preparing for these sermons, I have learned more about fish and fishing in the Bible than I thought was available to know. And before I’m done, you’ll learn a ton of it. I know what kinds of fish were caught. I know where they were caught. I know how they were caught (four primary methods….stay tuned next week). And I know what the catching (or the non-catching) of fish symbolized. But the most important thing to know at the outset is that, in Bible times, fishing was neither for sport nor therapy. People fished to eat. Or they fished in order to sell the catch, the better to feed the family. Fishing was equated with surviving in the same way that working is equated with living.
Clearly, some of the disciples were fishermen. How many, nobody knows. In this story, seven are out there. Five are named. There’s Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, Zebedee’s boys (Jimmy and John). But that’s only five. Two are not named. So who could they be? Darned if I know. Unless, just possibly, you and me. Don’t discount that. John never wrote a story that didn’t turn out to be more than what it seemed.
So there they were….in the boat….at night….all night. They were not all that far from shore, really. Later in the story, the distance from shore is pegged at 100 yards (picture a football field). Maybe they were fishing further, earlier. Maybe not. Dragnet fishing, which was the method they were employing, often involved a pair of boats and a spotter….an on-shore spotter….who could sometimes detect fish movements not visible nearer the boat (where the waters were churning). Thus it would not be uncommon, at least during daylight hours, for a spotter on shore to direct those in the boats to move their nets from hither to yon (or from yon to hither).
But, for the moment, methodology is secondary. What is primary is failure. The text tells us that we (remember, you and I are in the boat) fished all night and caught nothing. Seven of us went 0-for-the-evening. Zip. Zilch. Skunked. Whitewashed. Nixed. Nada. Nary a nibble. And, as Robert Lovette notes: “This little story of night fishing is as old as time itself. For while the disciples used all their expertise, all their talent and all their know-how, absolutely nothing happened.” Which sounds like a page from the diary of every pastor I know.
Which is not a throw-away line, but one on which the story pivots. A moment ago, I told you that the Gospel of John never tells a purely straight story. Which does not mean that John’s stories lie. What it means is that John’s stories are true on more than one level. Which means that there is simple truth there, but there is also truth you will neither see (nor “get”) unless you peel the story like an onion. And, as with peeling onions, when you get to the “sweet stuff” in John, it can sometimes make you cry.
Moments ago, I said that fishing (in the Bible) is synonymous with working. But for the purposes of this story, you need to expand your understanding of the word “working.” John is not talking about “earning a living” here. John is talking about “performing a ministry” here. For purposes of this story, fishing is a euphemism for the work Jesus has given the disciples to do….trained the disciples to do….indeed, called the disciples to do. In this story, fishing is not the disciples’ way of blowing off work (as in “let’s call in sick and go fishing”), but is the disciples’ way of going to work. Fishing is preaching, teaching and reaching. Fishing is casting out the Word and hauling in the hearers. Fishing is trolling for Jews and Gentiles….men and women….insiders and outsiders….the lost and those who are too dumb to know they are lost. What this story means to say is that the disciples went out to do the work of Jesus….and couldn’t get it done. Which wasn’t from lack of effort. They worked all night and nothing happened.
What does that mean? It means there are times when effort alone won’t do it. You’ve heard it said that success is one part inspiration and two parts perspiration. Which is true. Very little, in the way of success, ever comes to the lazy. But sweat, alone, doesn’t necessarily do it either. For example, did you know that studies of pastors who are in trouble in their churches report that those pastors (on average) work 25 percent harder than their colleagues. Which is nice. But at the end of the day….or at the end of their stay….guarantees nothing.
What’s more, if there was ever a time when the disciples should have been successful, it was then. I mean, notice when this little fishing expedition takes place. Right after the Resurrection, that’s when it takes place. And if there was ever a time when the disciples of Jesus should have been able to notch things “onward and upward for Jesus,” it should have been right after the Resurrection. I can’t think of anything more motivational than a resurrection. I mean, if the board chairman of your company were to suddenly rise from the dead, I think most of your salespeople would exceed their quotas for at least a couple of weeks. But even a resurrection didn’t seem to help these guys.
I ask you, can you imagine a young pastor (or maybe a second-career pastor) giving the old life up….leaving the old life behind….selling bits and pieces of the old life (like your drum set, Bruce) to pay the bills….spending three years in seminary to prepare for the new life….and then failing, upon finally arriving, to please anybody in his or her first appointment? Can you imagine that? I hope you can imagine that. Because it happens. It happens.
Part of the disciples’ problem is that Jesus wasn’t with them in the boat. Resurrected….yes. Readily available….no. “We can’t do it without the Lord,” I suppose they said. “Things were fine while he was here. But he’s no longer here,” they said. And you and I know what that is like, don’t we? Because we each have someone in our life we can’t function without. Someone dies….and we can’t do it. Someone splits….and we can’t do it. Someone retires….and we can’t do it. “It isn’t like it was,” we say. Which is true. And which can be immobilizing.
This family once had resources. This marriage once had resources. This church once had resources. This boat (in which we are presently bobbing) once had resources. But not anymore. Not anymore. They up and left…leaving us empty-handed.
All of us have versions of what psychotherapists call “the unpreparedness dream.” We are supposed to do something important, but we are not ready. Many such dreams involve high school. It is the day of the big test. But we have never been to class. We can’t find the room. We didn’t study. Or we can’t find our pencil.
Over the years, I have told you various versions of my unpreparedness dream….one of which, interestingly enough, involves baseball. It’s early spring. It’s Florida….Lakeland, Florida. It’s the training camp of the Tigers. Suddenly, Phil Garner spots me in the stands (where I am really quite comfortable). But he comes to the railing and calls me down, saying: “Ritter, it’s time to see what you can do.” So I am sent to third base. Which is fine (I like third base). Except, I have no glove. So I tell Phil. But Phil doesn’t hear. So I tell Shane Halter (who slides over from third to short to make room for me). Shane doesn’t care, either. Nobody cares. Nobody, except the members of the opposition who are now pointing at the gloveless third baseman and chortling with glee. Which is when I wake up and do not go back to sleep. And which is when I notice I am drenched in sweat. What does the dream say? Simply this. That in this, the ninth inning of my ministry, I still occasionally fear that I am being sent out there empty-handed.
Except I’m not. Nor are you. Nor are we as a church. Follow the text carefully. In the dim, half-light of dawn….silhouetted against the shoreline where fear and fatigue meet….Jesus meets us. And it is daybreak, whether the clock says so or not. For there is one kind of daybreak when the sun comes up. But there is another kind of daybreak when the Son comes in.
And he speaks to us now as he spoke to us then. And what he says is: “Drop your nets one more time. Switch sides (meaning change tactics, methinks). But do the same thing you have been doing, with the same equipment you have been using.” Which is not what I would expect him to say, given that it sounds, for all the world, like “keep on keeping on.” But what it says is this: “Here, in this boat….on this sea….using this equipment….making this effort….acknowledging his presence….obeying his command….we can be successful.” We do not need to wait for better nights, stronger nets, wiser heads or other Lords to do the work. The resources are available.
Sometimes they do not seem to be in-hand. But they are very much at-hand. The more astute of you have already observed that the title of this sermon (“Go Fish”) is also the title of a card game played by very small children. It is a game where each player tries to make matches. And if, in the hand you are dealt, there are no cards that match, you have to seek the cards that match. First from another player….as in, “Have you any _____?” If the answer is yes, the card is given. If the answer is no, the other player says: “Go fish”….meaning dip into the pile lying on the table. Which usually, over time, will offer up anything that is needed. All the missing pieces are available….across the table, around the table, or on the table.
There are a million versions of my closing story. This is mine. Jesus dies, rises, goes to heaven, and meets an angel who knew him when. Whereupon the conversation (beginning with the angel) goes something like this.
“Jesus, long time no see. Where have you been?”
“Here and there upon the earth.”
“Doing what?”
“This and that, as directed by my Father.”
“Was it a good work?”
“Not only a good work, but a life saving work.”
“Was it a hard work?”
“I guess you could say that, given that it cost me my life.”
“After you retired?”
“No, shortly after I started.”
“Was it your work alone?”
“No, I shared it with a few friends.”
“What will become of your work now that you are gone?”
“I left it in the hands of my friends.”
“And if they fail?”
“I have no other plans.”
Note: This message was the first of three sermons preached in conjunction with our fall stewardship campaign entitled “Not Without You.” All the campaign images grow out of this text from John 21. The campaign logo is as follows:
