Sermon 17th February 2013
Today, our Vicar, Cameron Barker, preaches based on the reading from Luke 5 verses 1-11 and 13.
I’ll never forget that day. Well, you don’t, do you: the day that all the foundations of your life were rearranged into a whole new shape really does stick in the memory. Or it did for me, anyway. And if I then start to think of where it went from there, in those next three, speech-defying, years ... Well, to think that I thought I even had a clue, sitting there in that boat ...
I’ll never forget that day. Well, you don’t, do you: the day that all the foundations of your life were rearranged into a whole new shape really does stick in the memory. Or it did for me, anyway. And if I then start to think of where it went from there, in those next three, speech-defying, years ... Well, to think that I thought I even had a clue, sitting there in that boat ...
No this isn’t your normal
kind of a sermon! The next 10 minutes or so are more like a personal reflection on today’s
story from Luke 5. Of course there is good reason for preaching it this way,
which we will get into later; but for now you may want to sit back, close your eyes, even, and just go with it as best you
can ...
So
there I was: sat in my boat on that hot,
sunny morning. Simon
by name, extravagant by nature: or I was back then anyway. Actually I’d got as far as sorting the nets out by
the time that Jesus turned up on the shore. Bet he’d had a good night’s
sleep. Mind you, I’d rather have been up fishing all night than have that
many people pushing and shoving round me every time I stepped outside my front
door. Still, no surprise was it: everyone knew exactly what he could do. I
hadn’t just heard it; I’d seen it for myself. Into the house he’d come; got the
monster-in-law on her feet and back into the kitchen, right
as rain; just by commanding the fever
to leave her: amazing; or what?!
I’d
seen him around often enough since then. It was hard to miss that sort of
circus even in a bustling place like Capernaum. He did come and go, but this
seemed to be his base now; you knew soon enough when he was back too. So, I saw,
and I heard him: Jesus often spoke to those crowds that never gave him a
moment’s peace. It wasn’t just all the miracles that he performed: he really
was worth listening to. Great stories he told, mostly about God’s Kingdom. They
often bit a bit, mind; and some people got right offended. Those religious ones
especially: they didn’t like it, or him. It was interesting stuff for sure; but
I had a living to make, a family to support:
such stuff was not
for a fisherman like me.
Saying
that makes me smile now, given how it all turned out. But you just can’t know
in advance, can you. It’s only when it gets quite that up close and personal
that you have to make a decision. And sometime it doesn’t feel like there is
any decision involved at all, actually. You just know; and then you’ve got to go with it; all the
way; even if it is like
handing over a blank cheque. There I go again, getting ahead of myself: I know
it’s important, but do tell the story properly, man! So: the boat; my boat; the
one that I wasn’t in. Jesus just helped himself – he did stuff like that – but
he wanted more from me. Didn’t he know that I had work to do, and sleep to get?
Still, I wasn’t leaving a landlubber like him alone in my boat!
He
didn’t want very much – not at first! Just to go a little way out, so everyone
could hear him. The lake was perfect for that; of course! More typical Jesus,
from what I’d seen; he wanted everyone to hear, to
know – even the ones
who were there
with their own murky agendas. I didn’t really listen – it was hard to stay
awake, to be honest. I’d heard most of it before anyway: the heart of his
teaching was usually the same: “This is God’s time to act. His
Kingdom is good news for the poor; it’s pardon to
prisoners; it’s recovery of sight for the blind; it sets the burdened and
battered free”; just like God promised through Isaiah; and hadn’t yet happened.
So
most people drank it all in, as usual. This was like living in our own history:
God present and active; putting everything right (and not before time, either!)
Yes, you could see cross faces: those professional
God-botherers. Then there were those who’d just tagged along to find out what
all the fuss was about: not many
of them appeared
very interested. But you needed to see the look on
the faces of those who were waiting for Jesus to get
out of the boat, so that he could make them
better. It didn’t matter how often I saw it – and I’ve seen it
so often now – the desperation always gets
to me. But on that day they had to wait longer than usual: Jesus had other
plans.
Fishing
plans, of all things! At that time of day?! “You have got to be
kidding me”, I thought. Now I’d been in that trade since the time I could walk:
I’d done well enough to have got my own boat; so I knew a thing or two about
fishing, I’d say. A bit more than a carpenter, anyway; and a rabbi?! I rest my case! So I just couldn’t let
it go when he told me to head for deep water rather than shore after he was
done teaching. I remember thinking something like, “Let’s see how irony goes
down, then”, before telling him the facts of fishing life. “We’ve been fishing hard all night and haven’t caught even a minnow. But if
you say so, I will let out the nets: Boss!” I even did it
with a straight face, I tell you!
30
seconds later and a feather would’ve knocked me flat! You’ve never seen
anything like it: I hadn’t anyway, not in all my born days. Those nets are
built to catch; if they don’t, we starve. And they were breaking with the
weight of fish! I would swear that it was true but I don’t need to. You can ask
James, or John. Our yelps told them we needed help, that second. They sped out
to us; but even with half the fish in their boat we were both sinking: literally!
It took all we had just to get us back to land. I didn’t mind much: I certainly
didn’t want to look Jesus in the face, not for as long as I could avoid it. But
then we’d reached the shore: no excuses left; it was
time to try and put this right, if I could. Me and my big mouth!
‘Ashamed’
didn’t even come close: all I could do was to let
him know he’d do so much better with anyone
else other than me. You see, it was like heaven had opened, and I knew who he
was. “Lord” is what I called him, when my knees had hit the planks; and I meant
it as fully as I thought was possible,
then. The chasm
between him and me was so obviously wider than any ocean. If he knew
that; if he could do that; this was the kind of
stuff that made even angels unable to look at God. Talking
of angels, so I’m not one for hours of scripture study; but I did
listen when I was younger. I know what angel say
when they turn up; and even then I truly didn’t think Jesus said it by
accident: “Don’t be afraid”. Don’t be afraid? You what?! Even I was
speechless at that one!
But
he wasn’t finished with me, obviously: “From now on you’ll be catching people”
he told me, all four of us. Not to eat or sell, obviously! From what he said we
knew that he meant, “Catch them alive, to give them life”! That’s what Jesus
wanted: from me; as messed up as I was; and he meant it: that was
obvious from the way that he’d never stopped looking at me from start to
finish. So there I was, then: the foundations of my life were laid in pieces
around my boat. Jesus wanted to rearrange them into a whole new shape;
he was waiting
for an answer, for me to make a choice. And
that’s when I knew, all up close and personal that I had to make a decision.
But it didn’t feel like there was any decision involved at all, actually. I
just had to go with it; all the way;
even though it really was
like handing
over a blank cheque. We pulled the boats up on to the shore; left them, and
everything; and followed Jesus.
Now we could get all fancy,
and say that we’ve just been through an Ignatian spiritual exercise. It would
be true too: St Ignatius of Loyola
pioneered this method of engaging with God through the Bible that’s still very much in use today. Hopefully that label
wouldn’t make you think that it wasn’t for you,
because it is for all of us – as I hope
I’ve just shown. I did search briefly this week for this sort of a reflection
on this passage that had been written by somebody ‘proper’. When I couldn’t
find one, I just wrote it myself! It’s not perfect, by any means; but it doesn’t
have to be. I picked Peter because he’s central to the story that needs telling
today; you could do the same yourself, but do it very differently. You might
want instead to put yourself in the position of someone in the crowd. You could
be there wanting to listen to Jesus; or to be healed by him; or whatever. The
point is that what matters is that we do engage with God and the Bible,
however we each best can do that.
Our specific aim this Lent is
to encourage as many people here as possible to do that. Using our imagination is
just one way of engaging with God and the Bible – and it’s not for everyone. There
are plenty of other ways, though. Another way is the one that’s set out on the
insert in the service sheet today. You may already have seen that we’ve kept
our promise to offer a scheme of daily Bible readings right through Lent. It
comes with the offer of a simple Bible study method. That works no matter
whether you have 5 minutes, or an hour, to
give it on any particular day. You don’t have to use it at all, of course!
That, like the fact that all this material is also available via our website,
is just a tool for those that may want help to read through Luke until Easter.
It doesn’t matter who you
are: this really is for everyone. This may be the only time in your life
that you are ever in this church: it’s for you. You may be here with all kinds
of mixed motives, or feelings: it’s for you; you may have past that’s chequered
enough to make a Grand Prix flag: it’s for you too! As Tom Wright wrote in his
commentary on this passage, ultimately there are no bystanders to God’s
kingdom. Jesus didn’t want to leave anybody out: then or now. That was why he
called Simon, James and John: it’s why we have Luke’s Gospel; it’s so that this
good news does get to as many people as possible. Those who do these daily
readings will track that part of the story as it unfolded in the First Century.
We’ll track a whole lot more besides, of course: but then, this book, Luke, is
one of the most brilliant writings of early Christianity. It truly is
worth engaging with – at whatever level you’re willing to go to, at this stage.
Having said that, our Lenten
journey in Luke begins here: with the story of someone who was dramatically
pushed to a whole new level of engagement with the reality of Jesus. Thank God that
Simon Peter was willing to leave his boat, his family, and his all,
after this life-changing encounter. (Just as an aside: in Luke he has always
been ‘Simon’ until now; this is the one time that he’s called ‘Simon Peter’;
from now on he becomes known as ‘Peter’.) Peter moved from being a spectator of
Jesus to being personally involved in a venture that he had no idea how would
develop. It was quite a risk that Peter took; far more risky than he knew when
he took it. It was still nothing compared to risk taken by the one who called
him, who taught him, and who put up with him, for the next 3 years. But Peter
couldn’t do any more than to risk his all, in faith and hope and trust; and to follow, as Jesus led him towards the cross.
That is where this
Lenten journey leads: it leads to the cross where Jesus died for us. Wherever
you are today, this is a journey that Jesus
wants to take you on too. Some of us are
already on the way: well, there is plenty further to go yet. So engage with
Jesus through Luke this Lent to see where he wants to lead you next. Others
maybe aren’t sure that we even want to start. This Lent could ‘just’ be your
chance to find out more about Jesus through reading Luke. Hear what he said,
see what he did, for yourself. At the end you can then decide what you then want
to about him. This venture is for all of us: no matter who, or where, we
are, personally, or in terms of faith. The question then, for each of us, is
whether you will take the risk of engagement with Jesus through Luke this Lent?
And so let’s pray ...