“Into the Deep”
Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
February 6, 2022
Isaiah 6:1-8
Luke 5:1-11
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.
Hopping in, he called out to the man nearby, cleaning his nets. Fishermen knew their business well. You won’t last long in the business if you don’t care for your equipment. It doesn’t matter how long the night was, you clean your nets, mend them, and gather them properly so that they are ready to go the next time you want to use them.
So, I can only imagine how frustrated Simon must have felt. All he wanted was to go home. It was a long, fruitless night. He was using the last of his energy to take care of his nets before packing it up and trudging home. And now, some guy wants to use his boat as a speaking platform. Could the day get any longer?
As a matter of fact, yes. He sat in that boat, 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. Again, 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.
Both stories we heard today are call stories. They tell us about the presence of God interrupting the lives of ordinary people, and giving them an extraordinary mission. They tell us just how overwhelmed these men are in the presence of God. They tell us how eager they are to follow God’s call to them. When asked who can be God’s mouthpiece for Israel, Isaiah jumps up and down saying, “Ooh, ooh. Send me! I’m ready!” When Jesus tells Simon and his companions that they will be using their fishing skills to captivate people, we’re told that they drop everything—including their catch—to follow Jesus—to ‘catch people’.
I have long had a love-hate relationship with the idea of Peter being called to ‘fish for people.’ I mean, what do we do with fish? We pull them from their life-source and grill them up for food. Of course, any analogy can break down, even if Jesus is the one using it. But the idea still chafes. But today, a different word comes to light. Peter will ‘be catching people.’ Catching. Capturing. Captivating. All part of the same word.
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 has 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 pastor. 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 COVID. We battle fear and hatred and bullies and terrorists. But 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—our own.
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 those around us. 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.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
