Are We Afraid of Jesus

Today’s text from Luke’s Gospel tells of Jesus calling his first disciples. Luke’s version differs a little from Matthew and Mark and a lot from John.[1] But Jesus calling disciples remains very familiar and in one form or another we’ve heard this story many times. Simon Peter and some others were fishing, not very successfully that night, and Jesus commanded them, first, to fish again, and second, to not be afraid because soon they would be catching people. In other words, to use the apt phrasing of the old King James Bible, in following Jesus the disciples would become “fishers of men.”[2]

So Luke tells this story in chapter 5 and in this gospel only now are the disciples present for the first time. That’s interesting when you think about it. Luke’s Gospel contains 1,151 verses and about one-fifth of those (286[3]) tell about Jesus’ last week — Palm Sunday through Good Friday and Easter. That means that Luke uses 865 verses to tell the whole story of Jesus before his final week and by the time we get to chapter 5 where the disciples show up, we’ve read almost 25% of those verses. It’s almost like Luke was saying that even the first disciples come late to the story.

I think that speaks to you and me today. We come late to the story too — twenty centuries late in human history and perhaps late in our own lives; perhaps fearful that we’ve wasted too much time or we’re too late to prove ourselves worthy disciples. If we feel that way this morning then the word we most need to hear today is the same word Jesus spoke to Simon Peter long ago: “Do not be afraid.”

Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

In one of his books, Fred Craddock, the great preacher and teacher of preachers, grapples with a couple of questions about how we hear what is already so familiar. He asks the questions from the viewpoint of the teacher/preacher. “How can we teach those who already know? How can we preach to those who have already heard?”[4]

But not just preachers need to think about those questions. How do you and I hear what we already know? How many times have we heard that story of Jesus calling his disciples? It’s so familiar. How do you and I hear it afresh today?

My attempt to hear it afresh was to try thinking, or maybe better, to try feeling like Peter. After Peter did what Jesus told him to do, reluctantly perhaps but nonetheless obediently, and after Peter caught the biggest mess of fish he had ever seen or hoped to see, how did he feel? Afraid. He was afraid of Jesus. So I asked myself if I’m afraid of Jesus and I asked the question in my sermon’s title. “Are We Afraid of Jesus?” If we can answer that question, perhaps we can hear this text in a new and fresh way.

Since the story is so familiar, maybe it would help if we changed it just a bit. Imagine the story went like this.

“Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear him, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake. Noting that one of the boat owners was a homely, even ugly and decrepit old man, Jesus then looked at the owner of the other boat. This man was Simon, He was a strapping and fine-looking young fellow.

“So Jesus got into the boat belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat.

“When he had finished speaking, another boat containing Simon’s fishing partners, James and John, came near, and Jesus said to the men in both boats, ‘I need someone to put out into the deep water and catch some fish.’

“Simon immediately put up his hand, waved it eagerly and said, ‘I’ll do it! Please, pick me!’ Whereupon Jesus selected Simon and told him to let down his nets and commence fishing for the Lord.”

Now that would be a fish story, wouldn’t it? We know that Jesus did not and would not select Simon Peter because he was good looking. We might select a fishing captain because we liked the way he looked or the seaworthy appearance of his boat. But not Jesus. He never seemed impressed by anyone’s appearance nor would he be with our appearance. Nor with our natural abilities, or talents, or what we have made of ourselves. Jesus’ call does not await the completion of our education or the ending of our work schedule, or the beginning of retirement. It does not depend on the size of the nest egg we’ve put away. Jesus calls according to his schedule and his purpose, not ours.[5] And he calls whomever he wills.

That’s why Peter was afraid. In Jesus Christ, Peter met someone who acted beyond what he could control or understand and who, nonetheless, called him. And Peter knew he wasn’t worthy of it. He wasn’t up to it. He was a sinner and he knew it because he was standing in the presence of the Holy One. And all Peter could think of to say was “Get out of here, Lord!” What he said meant literally, “Go somewhere else. Go any other place but not this place. I’m afraid for you to be with me.”[6]

Before grace assures us grace scares us. Jesus called Peter and it moved him from the security of a fixed, failed reality [7] — we fished all night and have nothing — to new and scary possibilities — from now on you will be catching people.

Isn’t that precisely why it’s scary? Jesus calls us to things that we’re not up to. He calls us to new realities and to go out to the deep water with him. And he says, “Do not be afraid because I am the One calling you.” It’s not like Jesus tells us to go do things on our own. No, he invites us to go fishing with him.

This what we both need to understand. I need to understand it because we preachers are greatly tempted all the time to tell our congregations what we think Jesus is calling you to do. There are lots of things I want you to do. Come to church more regularly (and be on time). Give more money. Bring your friends and neighbors. Pray more. Join some committees. Teach Sunday School. Get yourself into some Bible studies. I could go on. But this text is not about a preacher calling to his parishioners. It is about Jesus calling to all of us. To each of us. To you and to me. And if we’re not a little afraid, then we haven’t heard Jesus calling.

Sheila Cassidy heard Jesus call. She is a British doctor who went to Chile during the dictatorial rule of Augusto Pinochet back in the 1970s. She used her medical skills to minister in the name of Christ. Because she treated any who requested her help, including one who opposed the regime, she was arrested and imprisoned and brutally tortured. Eventually she was expelled from the country and today she ministers to the terminally ill in England.[8]

In her autobiography, Audacity to Believe, she tells of the time when she accepted the call of God. “How can one convey the agony and the ecstasy of being called by God? At one moment one is overawed by the immensity of the honor … and in the same breath one screams, ‘No! No! Please, not me, I can’t take it!’ That which seconds ago was a privilege becomes an outrageously unfair demand.” But then she adds, “I thought about it, and I knew that I did not want to say no and that, however much it hurt, I could only humbly accept.”[9]

Friends, I have to be honest to say I don’t know what Jesus is calling you to do. But I do know he is calling you. And I know he is calling me in some new ways that I am trying to understand. And I hope the we will all humbly accept and be unafraid. For our Lord is calling us to go fishing with him.

[1] See Matthew 4.18-22, Mark 1.16-20, and John 1.35-51. Only Luke mentions poor fishing and John does not mention fishing at all. John’s Gospel does have a remarkably similar story but places it as a post-resurrection experience. See John 21.1-14.

[2] Matthew 4.19: “And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Mark 1.17: “And Jesus said unto them, Come ye after me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.” (Authorized Version)

[3] Luke 19.28-24.53.

[4] Fred B. Craddock, Overhearing the Gospel (Nashville: Abingdon, 1978) 6.

[5] This approach to the story was adapted from a similar idea in Timothy F. Merrill, ed., “The Gennesaret Incident,” Homiletics 19.1 (2007): 47-48.

[6] Luke 5.8: i˙dw»n de« Si÷mwn Pe÷troß prose÷pesen toi√ß go/nasin ∆Ihsouv le÷gwn: e¶xelqe aÓp∆ e˙mouv, o¢ti aÓnh\r àmartwlo/ß ei˙mi, ku/rie. TDNT states that the imperative (exelqe) is a “going forth” in terms of place. Gerhard Kittel, ed., Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, trans. and ed. Geoffrey W. Bromiley, vol. II (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1964) 678, 679.

[7] This most apt phrasing is from William H. Willimon, “Get Out of Hear Jesus!,” Pulpit Resource 35.1 (2007): 22.

[8] See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sheila_Cassidy, Internet, 1 Feb. 2007. Sheila Cassidy (1937 – ) is a British doctor, known for her work in the hospice movement, as a writer and as someone who, by publicizing her own ill treatment, drew attention to human rights abuses in Chile in the 1970s. Cassidy grew up and went to school in Australia. She began her medical studies at the University of Sydney and completed them at the Oxford University. She went to practice medicine in Chile during the government of Salvador Allende. In 1975 while in Chile, Cassidy was caught up in the violence of the Pinochet regime. She gave medical care to a political opponent of the new regime who was being sought by the police. As a result, she was herself arrested by the Chilean secret police (DINA) and kept in custody without trial. During the early part of her custody, she was severely tortured in the notorious Villa Grimaldi near Santiago. On her release from custody and return to the UK, Cassidy's description of her experiences, including her vivid factual account of her torture, did much to bring to the attention of the public the widespread human right abuses that were occurring at the time in Chile.

[9] Sheila Cassidy, Audacity to Believe (New York: Collins, 1978) 88.