February 9, 2025
Sometimes I think we think that what we read in the Bible doesn’t actually matter, sometimes because the details are there simply to help the gospel writers meet their word count requirement. Or because they’re fantasy that cannot be proven one way or the other, so why bother trying.
But you heard something at the beginning of the service about a detail that we might have fallen under one of these two categories. When the disciples are crossing the Sea of Galilee and a sudden storm arises, is that a detail that matters, or is it even dependable information? Well, here we have an eyewitness that a storm on the lake in question can, in fact, arise very suddenly, and that it can calm just as quickly. And is the detail important? Yes, it’s very important. The disciples weren’t idiots. Absent modern radar technology, they couldn’t have known that they were in danger—and yet, their danger was an opportunity for Jesus to show them both his care and his power.
But today’s gospel reading is another story of that same sea. And there are a couple of details that we need to look at, and ask 1.) Is this detail important enough for us to pay attention to? and 2.) Is this even dependable information?
The first occurs as Jesus is standing on the shore of the Sea of Galilee and people are pressing in to hear him, and so he gets into a boat that belongs to some fishermen who’d just come in after fishing all night. And it was while sitting in that boat that he taught the crowds.
No pun intended, but this seems fishy. He didn’t exactly have a sound system, so how could they possibly hear him? Well, it seems they actually could. In his commentary on Luke, Bishop N.T. Wright tells how surprised he was when he visited this lake to be shown some of the bays surrounded on three sides by rock. They were natural amphitheaters that made it possible to be heard on shore without even raising your voice—but only if you set a little way’s out in a boat on the water.
We don’t know exactly what he said from that boat that morning, but we’re told that when he finished, he turned to Simon and told him to go back out into the deep water and cast his nets once again.
Simon protested, saying he’d been fishing all night and had caught nothing.
And this is an important detail. Now, I haven’t gone fishing since I was a little kid spending my summers on Lake Cumberland. But apparently it’s quite true that, if you want to catch fish on the Sea of Galilee, you need to fish at night. And so if Simon had caught nothing at night, it was almost silly to think he’d catch anything after the sun came up. Though Luke doesn’t mention this specifically, it does explain why Simon protested. And it explains why his obedience is remarkable.
This is no minor fact, because it also explains why the miraculous catch of fish is, in fact, so miraculous. And it shows us how the details in these stories all fit together.
The gospel writers put on paper stories that had been shared among Jesus’ followers after his death and resurrection. So how dependable could these accounts be? Well, when we investigate these stories that involve the Sea of Galilee, it’s evident that there’s a great deal of truth to these minute details. It’s almost as if the storyteller was there! It’s almost as if we have dependable eyewitnesses to the life and ministry of Jesus!
So we don’t have to doubt the details here. We don’t have to suspend disbelief. The facts are firmly established—geographically and historically—as we move on to what happened next. Simon did as Jesus said, and his catch of fish was bigger than he could’ve imagined. His nets were so full, some of his fellow fishermen had to get into another boat and come to his aid. And even with the catch divided between two boats, Simon’s boat was full to sinking.
And his response was one of deep humility. “You’re not going to want anything to do with me, Lord, for I’m nothing but a sinful man,” he said.
But Jesus’ response was the exact opposite. And here in Luke, we don’t hear Jesus telling Simon to follow him. We only hear Jesus telling him that he will follow him, and that from now on, he’d be catching, not fish, but people.
Jesus didn’t choose the most impressive individual in town, he didn’t choose the most religious individual, he didn’t even choose the best individual. Simon wasn’t wealthy, he wasn’t exactly a rabbi, and he was just a common, run-of-the-mill sinner. Yet Jesus called him. And Simon dropped his nets right on the spot, and he followed.
This is how Jesus operates in the lives of some of his followers. It’s what happened when Saul was transformed on the road to Damascus. And while the poor fisherman from Galilee went on to become Peter, the head of the church in Jerusalem, Saul, the persecutor of the church, went on to become Paul, the apostle to the rest of the world.
And for the rest of history—Christian history, anyway—people who have come to know Jesus have learned to equate their workaday lives with the shores of the Lake of Galilee, and their life’s journey with the Road to Damascus.
So today’s story is about Simon—the call of Simon is the main point. But there are others in the story. The other fishermen named here also leave it all behind to follow Jesus, for example. But what about the crowd, the witnesses to Simon’s call? What they heard that morning as Jesus spoke God’s word to them from the boat in the lake can’t have been insignificant. And you know that witnessing the call of those fishermen was something that would stick with them the rest of their lives. Maybe it was one of them who originally told the story that Luke ended up writing down!
Whenever we celebrate the Lord’s Supper in this church, I like to make sure you hear the words, “No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, you’re welcome here.” It not only invites everybody, but it causes us to ask ourselves. Who am I in God’s eyes? Where am I at today? Where am I going? And those are the questions this story from the scriptures raises in our minds. Am I Simon Peter experiencing this firsthand? Or am I just part of the crowd, watching all this unfold in front of me? And what do I intend to do now that I’ve seen what can happen, and now that I know the possibilities?
Of course, in this day and age, Jesus doesn’t call people like he did Simon Peter that day. It’s no longer possible to drop everything and follow Jesus… except, it is. Christ can still issue a call to leave everything behind and follow him into the unknown.
In 1979, a Spanish priest named Cesáreo Gabaraín wrote a song called Pescador de Hombres (Fishers of Men) about the call of Christ in his own life (it’s #342 in our hymnal):
Lord, you have come to the lakeshore,
searching for neither the wealthy nor the wise;
instead, it was me you asked to follow you.
Lord, you looked me in the eye and spoke my name.
Now I’ve left my boat in the sand,
and by your side, I’ll search another sea.
I remember this hymn helping me to interpret Christ’s claim on my own life when I was making the decision to follow into the unknown. A few months later, I was standing outside a church in Colombia when the people inside started singing this song. I can assure you: The call is real, and it’s possible to say Yes.
The call has been a theme in literature throughout history as well. For example, did you know J.R.R. Tolkien was a serious Christian? And so it’s from that viewpoint that we might read The Hobbit, when a little inconspicuous homebody named Bilbo Baggins had his life changed when he was told he was needed on an adventure. Not only was he changed, but his presence changed the course of world events.
So don’t look at this story and relegate it to history. It’s as fresh in 2025 as it was in the year 31 AD. It still happens every day, to people at any point in their lives. If, in this time of hopelessness and confusion, you feel the tug to let go of one thing in order to take up another, then please picture yourself on the lakeshore hearing the call of Christ. “Follow me,” he says, and the temptation to drop your current work to help God’s people will seem like a real possibility. New priorities are possible, whether you’re a teenager or a senior citizen.
I’ll close today with the song I quoted in this week’s Bellwether: [The Summons, John Bell ©1987]
Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?
Will you go where you don't know and never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown, will you let my Name be known,
Will you let my life be grown in you and you in me?
—©2025 Sam Greening
