People-Fishers

Matthew 4:12-23

Look how easy it was for Simon, I think.

Easy for him and Andrew, James and John.

Jesus comes right to them while they work on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Jesus personally invites them, in clear, direct and simple words: Follow me.

Even tells them what they’ll be doing: I’ll teach you to be people-fishers.

And it must be easy, right? Since Peter and Andrew, James and John all immediately drop what they are doing to go after Jesus. It must be clear that this is it, the thing they’d been waiting for all their lives.

I know they have doubts later. I know it doesn’t turn out to be entirely fun. Some of it’s scary, lots of it is confusing. I’ve read all those stories too.

But today it sounds so clear, so easy, so unmistakeable.

Why doesn’t Jesus sound like that to me?

Have you ever wondered that?
Wondered why God seems to speak directly to some people, while you feel cloudy and uncertain? Wondered if God really has a plan for you? Wondered if what you’re doing or deciding is the right thing, but don’t know how to be sure?

If you’ve wondered that, you’re not alone.

I know that many – probably most – of Jesus’ followers here and now, and over the centuries of our faith, have the foggy, less certain experience of God’s call to us as individuals. That relatively few followers of Jesus have one clear, bright, specific moment when Jesus speaks and it’s not just easy, but energizing, compelling, and exciting to respond.

I know this, but I still have call envy.

It’s not just this story, either. I have colleagues and friends who always seem to hear Jesus’ voice so much more clearly than I do.

Friends who just know that God wants them to plant a church, or lead a scout troop, or to respond to one particular person who walks into their life, and who have stories of wonderful results or insights from that thing God called them to.

I spent years being envious of people who knew for certain that God had called them to priesthood, while I was confused about my uncertain longings and hopes, unsure about the usefulness of my talents and skills, and pretty sure the church didn’t want me.

I can tell you today that hindsight lets you be a lot more certain about what God’s up to in your life than present sight. And that a genuine, fruitful, powerful call to ministry or parenthood or healing or service often feels very much at times like confused longing, foggy hope, and a mix of potentially useful skills and niggling doubt.

And that you may still envy someone else’s certainty even after your own particular gifts and work are affirmed and celebrated and fruitful.

And – since I never envied doctors certain about their call – I can also tell you that if you envy someone else’s particular certainty that they are called to be an engineer or parent or teacher or scout leader or singer or whatever, that may be a sign that you’re called to that too. Or something like it.

So if you are envious that Jesus is so clear with Peter and Andrew and James and John, it might be a sign that Jesus is actively calling you to follow him – you just wish you knew how.

As a matter of fact, one thing I am sure of right now, even if you’re not, is that Jesus is, in fact, calling you.

Calling each of us. If you’re here today (if you’re reading this), whether you came reluctantly or enthusiastically, whether you’re listening for it or not, Jesus is calling you.

God calls some of us to specific things, sometimes: to do a particular job at a particular time, or to take on a role in life like teacher or healer or spouse. And some times that’s more clear than at others.

But now, always, Jesus is calling all of us exactly the way he calls Simon and Andrew, James and John.

“Follow me!”

It’s a call to be close to God.

That may, in fact, have been easier for John and James and Andrew and Simon, who could get up out of their boats and physically walk along right behind Jesus. Could touch him. And Jesus could tell them in normal human conversation what he wanted them to do. That he wanted them to be people-fishers, or later, to hand out bread and fish to hungry people, to come up a mountain with him and meet God, or to go out to a particular place where people need to hear good news.

It may have been easier for those first fishers to be close to Jesus, but it’s very, very possible for each of us, too.

Many of us here are already following Jesus actively – some of us with clarity, some of us with great uncertainty.

When there’s no physical Jesus to follow, we have to follow the story. Have to immerse ourselves in scripture, particularly in the gospels, but also all the stories of the followers of Jesus, the followers of God. Many of you are involved in a regular Bible Study here or elsewhere, or specifically working on following Jesus in a Discipleship for Episcopalians or “Friends with Jesus” group.

If you’re not, you can be. Talk to me.

Several of you, I know, have a practice of paying attention to the good, the healing, that God is doing right now in the world. Some do gratitude journaling, others just take note of where ever you see God at work in your daily life.

When we immerse ourselves in the story, and watch for God at work, we’re doing exactly what Andrew and Peter, John and James did in the story we read today – going around after Jesus and listening and watching as he proclaims good news, and heals the sick.

It’s also important to remember if we are “following” that means that God does the work of leading.

Father Mychal Judge, a Fire Department of New York chaplain who died in the attacks of September 11, 2001, used to pray every day:
“Lord, take me where you want me to go;

Let me meet who you want me to meet;

Tell me what you want me to say;

And keep me out of your way. Amen.”

That kind of prayer is one way to make sure we’re letting God do the work of leading; to help ourselves follow in trust.

My friend Rob [known in the Diocese of New Jersey as “the church growth guy” or “the discipleship guy”] says that to be a disciple of Jesus, to follow Jesus, is simply to live and love like Jesus and help others do the same.

Because the good news isn’t just that Jesus is calling us close, even when it’s not as clear as we like. The good news is also that Jesus calls us, just like James and Andrew and Simon and John, to be people-fishers. To help others catch Jesus.

Which doesn’t necessarily mean going out on the high seas – the streets, the shopping malls, the internet – to reel people in. It’s much more likely to mean helping the people we love and who love us, the people we’re already close to, notice what God is doing in their lives, to notice their calling to be close to God, when they find it hard to hear it themselves.

People-fishing with Jesus means it’s actually easier to be with the people in your life who need something that you don’t know how to give – because you let God do the giving. That’s just a matter of getting used to looking for what God is up to in the people around us. To look for what God is offering to the people around us every day, and let them know what you see.

You and I are called, like Peter and Andrew and James and John, not just to be close to Jesus, but to be people-fishers with Jesus. Not the hard way, the way Jesus never does it: baiting hooks to reel in strangers. But the way we wish we could when we hear or see it happen to someone else. When we hear Jesus say: Just follow me. Hang out with me.

Pay careful attention to what I’m doing – notice the good news and the healing and the love.

And you will be people fishers too.