Be the Exception: Drop Everything
Isaiah 6:1-13; Luke 5:1-11
On a February Sunday much like this one, approximately 14 years ago, a couple of parents of two young boys were strategizing a way they could enjoy watching the Super Bowl later that evening with two preschoolers who would be in no hurry to get to bed. It’s a beautiful day, they said. Let’s take them to the park, they said. We will let them play and play until they are worn out. Then, we can put them to bed early…
We took our little boys to a park in our neighborhood where they liked to play on the playground, run around, ride their scooters, terrorize the ducks living around the small lake, and so forth. That afternoon, we took a small motorized jeep made for little bitty tikes to ride and drive. This is a great place for them to ride it, we said. The battery was charged up and ready to go.
The afternoon was going great. It was one of those sunny and 60-degree winter days we love here in Alabama. We were following behind Marshall who was taking his turn driving the jeep, but not too close. He was fine. We were chatting and carrying jackets they had thrown aside and water bottles. He was unusually good at driving this thing for such a young little guy we bragged to each other. And then he turned around to look back at where we were. He smiled and waved… and his little car veered off the pavement… Turn around, we yelled. Watch where you’re going! Suddenly the little car seemed to pick up speed as it careened right down the grassy bank toward the lake. And then we could see what was inevitable. He was going in the water… Like John running to the tomb, Allan outran me and ran out of his shoes– he took off so fast after him. I just remember running behind him, keeping my eyes on that little car as it turned over and dumped Marshall into the cold, murky water. Allan was just steps away… Marshall stood up and I could see his surprised little eyeballs peeking up above the water’s surface. Allan splashed in after him in his sock feet; and lifted him up out of that chilly water, checking him on every side before setting him in the grass with me. Marshall was shivering but fine. Allan pulled that silly car from the lake and eventually found his shoes. I had left a trail of jackets and kid stuff behind me. We got Marshall home and into a hot shower and who knows what happened the rest of the night. Was there a football game?
In those drops everything and run moments, nothing else mattered except the one who needed saving.
In the Gospel of Luke today, our story starts at the water’s edge with Jesus teaching. The crowds are gathering around to hear the Word of God. Jesus notices two boats tied up along the shore and climbs into one of the boats belonging to Simon. He asks him if they can push off the bank a bit so that he can use it as his platform, his pulpit. Everyone will be able to see him and hear him better if so.
When Jesus finishes teaching the crowds, he invites Simon and the others (not yet named) to put out into deeper waters… To let their nets out and see what they can catch. “But Master (Lord),” Peter says, “we’ve been at this all night and haven’t caught a thing. This call story, of Simon Peter, Andrew, James and John appears elsewhere in Matthew and Mark. In their versions, they call Jesus, “Teacher” and “Rabbi” but here, Simon says, “Master” a title reserved for a servant-lord relationship. Simon says, “If you say so, we can let out the nets again.” In other words, Simon the servant will do whatever and go wherever his Lord tells him. Perhaps Luke’s Simon respects Jesus with the title because he has just witnessed Jesus heal his mother-in-law (4:38-39).[1] He knows what kind of power Jesus has. The nets had barely sunk beneath the surface of the water when they were strained past capacity with a huge haul of fish! Simon had to call other fishers to come help them pull them into the boats. Two boat loads of fish were caught. Simon and Andrew’s boat is almost sunk under the weight of it all.
It appeared that Simon Peter was overwhelmed by the miraculous catch. He fell to his knees before Jesus and said that he was too sinful to be in the presence of such holiness. Notice he didn’t respond like a fisherman. He didn’t say, Why didn’t I know where the fish were? Because this was so much more than that (a fishing trip). Jesus was so much more than just a good angler. Simon suddenly became present to God in his midst and he knew it. Gripped by his own sin, his own inadequacies, perhaps by shame (in the presence of God/holiness), he told Jesus to leave him. But Jesus wants to be so much more than a master over him (over you!)
We’re in the same boat now, Simon Peter. He told him not to be afraid.
Don’t be afraid of what you don’t understand (yet).
Don’t be afraid of what you can’t see (yet).
Don’t be afraid of how your physical needs will be met or how your family will be taken care of.
Don’t be afraid that you’re not good enough to do what I’m calling you to do.
The same power that prompted Simon to fall at Jesus’ feet is the same power that lifts him into God’s service.[2] The former, self-doubting, unsure, worn-out fisherman- Simon Peter “dies”, and a new disciple Peter is raised up. God’s call, Steve Garnaas-Holmes says, isn’t just a job assignment, it's a transformation of who we are. Our broken, unworthy, inadequate selves are transformed into exactly what God needs: still ourselves, still fisherfolk, but now in the service of God.
This story will rock your boat if you let it. If you read it carefully, you see there are points of intersection with a life of faith – a call to fish – even in 2025.
They way Jesus sees two ordinary boats and climbs in… He will climb into your ordinary life if you let him. He will use your ordinary job to infuse grace into people’s lives. He will call you to an ordinary task like just keeping a boat steady so that his message can reach people.[3] Like keeping the lights on in a church that seeks to welcome and serve its neighbors. Or driving the Salvation Army van to deliver a few meals on a Tuesday night. Or providing a safe place inside the church for folks to learn English, or for parents of queer kids who need support right now… Ordinary tasks you already know how to do, but now in the service of God.
And even if you have fished all night… Jesus always heads right for where it hurts… toward our fears or previous failures; when we think we have exhausted all resources, all possibilities, all capital and courage...Jesus will invite you to swim in the deep waters of love and grace so that you experience a different side of him, of knowing God, of sensing Spirit moving. Because just beneath the surface lies an overabundance of grace that we haven’t seen yet.[4]
Even today, disciples are invited to drop everything and trust that there is still someone who wants to overwhelm your “nets” with more love and grace than you can imagine. [5]
I think fishing for people in 2025 looks less like fishing with a dragnet and more like nuanced, fly fishing. Fly fishing is an angler’s method that uses a light-weight lure called a “fly” to catch fish. The fly is cast using a fly rod, reel, and a specialized weighted line. The light weight of the lure requires a unique casting technique. Those images of anglers standing in waist deep water, casting their line in that side-arm, wavy dance across the surface is mesmerizing. It's an art form whether you’re watching someone stand in the rushing river waters of the Northwest or casting from a boat in a southern lake. Many of you have read John Archibald’s memoir of growing up in Alabama, the son of a United Methodist pastor during the 60s and 70s. The Rev. Robert Archibald was a fly fisherman, and John was his frequent companion on those trips to lakes in Alabama and Georgia. His dad taught him, patiently, how to tie the fly onto the leader, how to draw out his line and whip it, all in the wrist, so it swept over the water like a flying insect and dropped, gently, inches from the bank. If the cast was right, the fish would take notice before it even hit the water. And then, with a little tug and little shake, he says, you made it judder through the water until--whoosh!-- the surface explodes. “Fish and fins in a fury.” Rev. Archibald said fly-fishing was like life. Patience, persistence, attention to detail and stillness would yield a thrill, a catch, an adventure one could not imagine.[6]
On one of those fishing trips, John remembers yanking his line out of the water too soon and jerking it toward his father. It soared over his head. When he realized his mistake, he whipped the tip of the rod forward. The line changed direction, whistled through the air until the hook thwacked John’s dad right in the middle of his bald spot. John thought he had ruined the day, the fishing trip… But his dad “laughed and… grabbed him by the neck, running his fist playfully through his hair.” He told him “not to worry, that there were still fish to catch. Sometimes you get stuck and sometimes you do the sticking, but you don’t stop.”[7]
As Marshall stood in the warm shower, Carter was right there making sure he was okay. He looked at me and said, Mommy, my whole heart hurt when Marshall went into that cold water. May God break our hearts for those who are brought to their knees by the weight of their sin or the weight of the world. And may God give us strength to run after them, to lift them up out of their troubled waters… This is what it is to follow Jesus. Lord, help
Offertory prayer quotation –
Cole Arthur Riley writes this encouragement to modern disciples in her work, Black Liturgies – When self-distrust begins to eclipse your callings, let God steady you toward what is good and true and beautiful… Listen to the sounds that stir within, listen to the cries for help that ring [out all] around you, and [then] follow a path of healing and liberation for you and all those you encounter.[8]
[1] Crowder, Stephanie Buckhorn True to Our Native Land, An African American New Testament Commentary Luke
[2] Craddock, Fred Interpretation Commentary Luke
[3] Garnaas-Holmes, Steve Unfolding Light Worship resources
[4] ibid
[5] ibid
[6] Archibald, John Shaking the Gates of Hell
[7] ibid
[8] Riley, Cole Arthur Black Liturgies