“Into the Deep”*

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

February 29, 2025

Ancient map with “Here There Be Monsters’

Isaiah 6:108

Luke 5:1-11

Children’s Message:

Who here has been fishing? Did you catch anything? Who likes to go fishing? Have you ever used a net to fish? That’s what the fishermen in today’s story were using. They’d toss a large net over the side of the boat, and then drag it in, hoping that there would be fish inside. Only, Peter and his friends had been out all night, and they hadn’t caught a thing. Not even a tiny carp.

Jesus was standing along the shore teaching as the fishing boats came in. Jesus asked them to let him teach from their boats so that his voice could reach the people at the back of the crowd. And when he was done, he told Peter to toss his net in again. But Peter was tired and sore, and he knew there wouldn’t be any fish…just like there weren’t the whole night.

But he did it anyway. Did he catch any fish? Yes! So many fish that it took two boats to bring them in, and the boats nearly sank! And then, Jesus told Peter he wouldn’t be catching fish anymore. He’d catch people. He’d catch people with Jesus’ message of good news.

Now, I brought a couple of blankets with me. They’re kind of like nets. And we decided last week that no one is too little or too young to serve God. So, you see all those people out there? You team up, and I’m going to give you a ‘net,’ and we’re going to catch people with the good news of a hug. If you aren’t comfortable with a hug, you can do a fist bump or a pat on the back. Let’s go catch people for God!

Let’s pray. Dear God, you’ve given us the good news to share with the world. Give us the courage and kindness to obey. Amen.

Message:

Today’s reading is a lot different than last week’s. Where last week, the people pressed Jesus toward a cliff because of what he was saying, this week the people press toward Jesus because they want to hear more. He kept backing up—trying to gain a little breathing room and enough distance to make sure those in the back could hear. And as luck would have it, he stumbled upon a boat on the shore.

In that boat sat Simon, listening. He couldn’t do anything else. He had a front seat to Jesus, and he was literally a captive audience. Jesus must have said some very compelling things—perhaps about how he had come to set the captive free; and maybe a parable about seeds of faith; and perhaps a bit about the kin-dom of God being for everyone. No doubt, he probably said some things that implied the world was going to change because no sooner had he finished, he instructed Simon to go back out into the water.

But he says something specific. Jesus tells him to go out into the deep water. Now, Simon knows how to fish. He’d been out in the deep water all night. But when Jesus says it, it takes on something more important. He could have told Simon, “Go back out and put down your nets.” But he says, “Go out into the deep water and put down you nets.”

Even though fishermen were comfortable navigating the water, the idea of the deep water holds meaning that goes back to the primordial chaos that existed before creation. It’s a nod to dangerous and unknown places—and things. It reminds me of maps made long ago. When the map-maker got to the edge of the known world, they would imagine what might lie beyond and write, “Here, there be monsters.” Here, there be monsters. It’s an apt phrase for going into the deep water.

And that’s exactly where Jesus tells Simon to go. It had very little to do with the geography of the Lake. It was more about going out into places unknown. Push out from the safety of the shore. And when Simon did—when he let down his nets into the deep, the catch was more than he could handle. Even with two boats working together, the fish nearly caused them to sink.

Go out into the deep—here, there be monsters. Put down your nets—let the word of God draw the people to it. The word of grace. The word of love. The word of release and hope and freedom. The word that speaks into the deep chaos and brings forth life and light. The word that captured the imagination of Isaiah and Simon and James and John. The word that captivated the crowds by the seashore.

This is the call of God. Not a siren call that lures one into danger but a clarion call that speaks into the deep and shows us the way home.

Rev. Amy Starr Redwine, pastor of Richmond’s First Presbyterian Church, shares a story leadership coach Drew Dudley has told about his time in college. It was graduation day, and his was walking the campus for the last time, a younger student came up to him and told him she had to tell him ‘thank you’ before he left. He had changed her life. When he asked how, she told him about her first day on campus.

The night before, she panicked. She told her parents she wasn’t sure she was ready. She just wanted to go home. They encouraged her to start with just one day. If she still decided that she wasn’t ready, they would understand and take her home. So, the next day, she and her parents stood in line outside the registrar’s office, preparing to get her classes squared away. And out of the union door bounced this guy wearing the goofiest hat she had ever seen and carrying a basket of lollipops. He approached a young man in line ahead of this girl, gave him a lollipop, and told him he really should give this beautiful girl behind him a lollipop. The poor boy blushed, turned around, and gave the girl the candy, after which Drew loudly said, “Her first day here and she’s already taking candy from strangers!” Everyone in line laughed, and the girl’s panicked died away.

Drew didn’t remember the incident, but the girl did. It gave her the courage to stick around, and soon after she graduated, she married that boy in line who gave her the lollipop. Drew’s reason for telling this story is to remind his audience about all the times they’ve been recipients of lollipop moments—and the times they have instigated lollipop moments for someone else.

It’s so easy to think of people like Isaiah and Simon Peter as big heroes of faith. Those encounters with God—they only happen to people like them. They don’t happen to me. I’m just an ordinary person. I’m just a sinful person. I’m just a truck driver or a retail worker or a cop or a teacher. Maybe, sometimes, we are even thankful to not be like the biblical heroes. But we are heroes. Like Drew, we don’t have to do larger-than-life things to make a difference.

We battle monsters every day. We battle feelings of inadequacy, depression, anxiety. We battle addiction and cancer and heart disease. We battle fear and hatred and bullies and terrorists. Because Jesus calls us to confront the monsters, not with weapons but with the Word. I never noticed it before now, but the crowds press in on him to hear the Word of God—not a phrase the gospel writers use much. And when Jesus tells Simon to try again, he consents by saying, “If you say so.” Words matter. Words of hope and life and love and grace can defeat the worst monsters we might ever encounter—especially those within our own heads.

So, today God calls us to put out into deep water. To speak the Word of God into the world, captivating those around us, and simply creating lollipop moments for the people we encounter. For, though monsters may be a reality, so is God—meaning we do not do this work alone. And we can be assured through Christ’s resurrection that even the worst monster of death can and has been defeated.

Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE

*originally preached on February 26, 2022