Exhausted? Go Deeper Preached on February 6th, 2022 for Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Luke 5:1-11 Today’s story, from the gospel of Luke, is the first of many miracles and parables set at the Sea of Galilee. Simon, who is renamed Peter later in the gospel, and the other disciples will have a many adventures with Jesus on this lake. Several of Jesus’s miracles will involve fish and he will tell and act out parables centered on the stormy lake. These stories will tell of God’s care and provision for all people even in the storms of life. In the passage we heard this morning, Jesus calls the first disciples who are fishermen. Jesus arrives on the shore of the lake. He has already gathered a crowd, who are following him to hear more of his teachings and witness his healing miracles. Much of Jesus’s ministry will take place around the lake. Jesus decides to preach to the crowds from the water. Simon and his fellow fishermen are mending and cleaning their nets nearby, and so Jesus asks Simon to take him out in his boat a little way offshore. We don’t know what Jesus told the crowds that day, although we do know that they had come to hear the word of God. Our story focuses on the conversation in the boat. Once the sermon is over, Jesus tells Simon to put out into deep water and let down his nets for a catch. Now, Simon is exhausted. He has been fishing all night in the shallow waters with his partners James and John. The night’s work was a wash, they had caught nothing. Add to that, they have spent the last hour cleaning their nets of weed, sand and gunk. The fishermen want to go home for breakfast and then to sleep. Putting out into the deep water is the last thing on their minds. Still, Jesus commands respect with Simon. “Boss, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets." Simon resigns himself to taking the boat into the water further out from the safety of the shore. The nets will need cleaning yet again, but there is something about this Jesus that makes him go along. Low and behold, the nets become filled with a huge catch. The other fishers in the cooperative have to be called. It takes two boats to bring in this haul, and even so they begin to sink. Simon suddenly realizes he is the presence of holiness. He falls down, saying “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” But Jesus isn’t looking for confession and subservience. He tells Simon not to be afraid, he has a new vocation. From now on he will be seeking out people, not fish. Simon, James and John become the first disciples. I come from a seafaring nation. I live closer to the ocean now than ever before, but when I think of commercial fishers I usually think of the British coast. When I was young, my family would often visit the seaside towns along the North Sea coast. Scarborough, in particular, has a fabulous harbor and a long history of trawler fishing. I remember walking along the harbor wall slippery and treacherous, with slimy weed and tightly clinging limpets. The salt and whip of the sea breeze and the smell of the fresh catch is unforgettable. The fishermen worked, throwing weather-worn ropes around the concrete bollards and sorting through their orange nets, picking the shellfish from the weeds. They seemed oblivious to the noisy gulls swooping and squabbling around their heads. The massive catch of cod or haddock was already safely stowed in large tanks on the ship. If we continued our walk along the sea front, we’d be met by the aromas of fish and chips and paper cones of shellfish. This was an ocean to table experience. I’ve never really known a commercial fisher. They have always seemed to be a breed apart. The weather-beaten men I used to see on those trips to the coast looked tough and hearty. They spoke with such a strong dialect I couldn’t quite grasp it, probably using curse words I had not yet learned. I was reminded of the hazards the fisher folk faced daily, when I heard the cryptic shipping forecasts broadcast the radio with warnings of gale force winds and severe storms. I imagine that Simon and his partners were more integrated into the community than the commercial fishers of today. And the Sea of Galilee is a lake not an ocean. But life was still treacherous for the fisher folk of Jesus’s time. Fishing was and is the most hazardous occupation. Simon most likely witnessed many of his fellow fishermen being injured or drowning. These frontline workers of Jesus’ time were certainly a tough and hearty breed. Simon and his partners fished close to the shore, using the same trawling technique as the fishermen of North Yorkshire. Fishing in the shallows was more of a sure thing. They could get back to land quickly if a storm blew up. Perhaps they were more likely to make a catch closer to the shore, where their nets could reach the bottom. Perhaps they feared the deeper waters because of the unpredictable storms and the very real possibility of drowning. Perhaps they had heard rumors of strange lake monsters and wanted to stay away. When Jesus asks Simon to put out into the deep, Simon is also exhausted. He’s done his work, even though he has nothing to show for it. He’s ready to quit. But when Simon does as Jesus asks, the experience is not terrifying in a life-threatening kind of way. It is terrifying in a holy way. The abundance of the catch is totally unexpected. Simon is suddenly aware that he is in the presence of divinity. Perhaps you can relate to Simon in his exhaustion. Two years ago, when the pandemic hit us, many people were already exhausted by their work and daily life. Healthcare workers, first responders, teachers, school bus drivers, transportation, food supply and restaurant workers were already worn too thin. Patients dying alone and in great numbers; irritable, uncooperative customers and passengers; and fellow employees out sick, have added to the exhaustion for essential workers. These circumstances have pushed many people over the edge. It’s not surprising that so many have quit. These past two years we have witnessed “the Great Resignation.” Perhaps you have quit your job. Perhaps you had to, even if you didn’t want to. Retirement has come on suddenly for some of us and we wish that we had more control over the situation. Others want to retire but cannot yet, because of financial constraints or a sense of responsibility. When the pandemic first began, many congregations and pastors, felt the same exhaustion Simon experienced having worked the whole night to no avail. We lamented; “Really God? How do you expect us to carry on now? We were already working to the max.” Many Sunday Schools have folded, as parents feared bringing their children to church and were also weary of online learning. And when churches returned to in-person worship, attendance was diminished. And at the same time, the appeal of online services has waned. Many pastors have reported to me their weariness with pivoting from in-person to online and back again. They are tired of dealing with frustrated congregants; they are exhausted by an unrelenting feeling of responsibility for their congregation and worry for their own health. Many pastors have conducted far too many funerals and not enough baptisms these past two years. There have been a great many resignations and retirements in ministry. In some ways, Wollaston Congregational Church has fared better than many churches. I tell my colleagues that we were ahead of the curve. We were already dealing with the major cultural changes that resulted in few families coming to church. We were already thinking and talking about what it will really mean to be church in the future. Staying in the shallow water means keeping on doing things the same way and expecting a different outcome. We know that is the way of insanity. Fortunately, Jesus has already gotten into the boat with us and is saying, “I know you’re exhausted. That’s why I’m saying ‘do something different’.” This is something like the advice “don’t work harder, work smarter.” Friends, I am proud of this congregation because we have already begun push out, albeit tentatively. We are entertaining the possibility of selling our premises, so that we can rent back the space we actually need. We are handing over responsibility for maintenance of the building and for providing community space. And so now we venture into the deeper waters. What is in store for us, what will be the great yield? Is our yield tied to the number of attendees at Sunday worship, or is it something deeper than that? Is our yield the bottom line on a budget sheet, or does it have more to do with lives transformed – our own lives, and those of our community members? The answer to these questions is still hidden from us, somewhere in the depths. Perhaps our yield has something to do with the satisfaction of knowing that we began turning this great ship, the Church, by facing into the future with courage. The deeper water is scary, it’s uncertain, it’s unfamiliar. But Jesus reminds us “I am there with you … there is abundance to be found here.” In these times we may feel disappointed, imagining that our work is done in vain. However, Jesus reminds us that we are not alone in our boats. He is here with us and is calling us to summon the courage to go into deeper water. Will we quit because we are tired, or will we discover what abundance Jesus has in store for us in the deeper places? May all God’s people say, Amen
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