The Fisherman (7 page)

We were all exhausted from the trip, but I persuaded Andrew, James, and John that there was no telling how long Jesus would remain home. It was essential for us to implement our nighttime fishing strategy immediately. We rested a few hours, ate dinner with the family, and then headed to the boats.

I cannot recall a worse fishing experience in my life than the twelve hours we spent on the Sea of Galilee that night. The wind howled, making both the rowing and the fishing an agonizing experience. There was only a sliver of a moon, and the near total darkness made it almost impossible to position our boats accurately, to see where our nets had been thrown, or to see what was in them when we brought them up, though in truth we didn't need to see to know what was in our nets. Throughout the entire night we fought the waves, cast our nets, hauled them in, fought the waves, cast our nets, hauled them in, again and again, and never caught a single fish. We went from frustration, to irritation, to helpless anger, to despair. As the sun rose we finally folded our nets and fought our way back to the shore.

The scene that greeted us on the beach was almost more than I could handle. Word of Jesus' return home had spread quickly throughout the region. Jesus was standing at the water's edge with several hundred people packed around him. Many at the back of the crowd were attempting to squirm closer to the Master, which only caused the mass to pack in around Jesus more and more tightly. His feet were already in the water, but with none of us there to establish a perimeter around him, the crowd continued to surge forward.

We beached our boats a few feet on either side of Jesus with the hope of providing him with some measure of protection. James, John, and Andrew hopped out and tried to clear a little area around him, so he could at least stand up without being driven into the sea. I went to the back of our boat and began cleaning our nets. I was grumpy and exhausted and in no mood for yet another mob scene.

Then, as I wrestled with a tangle in one of the nets, I suddenly felt the boat shift under the weight of someone jumping aboard. I turned around and saw Jesus looking at me.

“Say, Simon, why don't we push out a few feet from the shore so I can teach without being driven into the sea in the process?”

He knew I was grumpy. He knew I was tired. He knew I had been out fishing all night. But he also knew I was finally ready for my first lesson in the difference between life in the flesh and life in the Spirit. He had me trapped, and he seemed to be well pleased with the arrangement.

Andrew gave us a push away from the shore, then jumped on board himself. We let the boat float out about thirty feet, then dropped the anchor. As soon as the crowd saw that no amount of pushing and shoving would get them near enough to touch Jesus, they settled down, then sat down on the beach.

Jesus sat at the front of our boat and taught for several hours that morning. He spoke on one of his favorite themes—the heavenly Father's willingness and ability to provide for those who trust him. His words
sounded
great, but everything he said just made me feel more grumpy. Talking about God's care and provision was fine, but after fishing for a full night without a single fish to show for it, the application part of this whole thing left something to be desired.

When he finished his teaching, he turned to me and said, “Now, Simon, put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”

I couldn't let this pass without saying something. I was tired. I was hungry. I felt like I had just been preached at by a deeply sincere man who wasn't in touch with the practical realities of life. Maybe I didn't know as much about the sacred writings as I should, but I knew a whole lot about fishing, and I knew there were no fish out there—not today, not in this location. It was time to introduce Jesus to
my
area of expertise.

“Master, we worked hard all night and caught nothing, but at your request I will let down the nets.”

There! That was as tactful as I could be. If he wanted to go on a little fishing trip after his morning teaching session, I would do that for him, but he might as well know the truth right now—there would be no fish in the net.

Andrew and I pulled the boat out a couple hundred feet from the shore. We both knew it was a terrible location, but after last night we also knew it didn't really matter. This wasn't about fishing; this was about giving Jesus a relaxing little boat trip and escaping from the crowds for a few hours.

I must admit I became rather parental with Jesus at that point. If he wanted a fishing lesson, I would give him a fishing lesson. I went into great detail showing him how to correctly hold the net for proper casting, how to coordinate the back, leg, shoulder, and arm muscles to get good distance from the throw. After introducing him to the basics I gave a demonstration throw, dropping the net just where I wanted it to go. With one painful exception several years later, that was the last time I ever cast that net.

Few things in my life have impacted me more deeply than what took place during the next few minutes. Having completed Simon's little lesson in professional fishing, I started to pull the empty net back to the boat. Then, suddenly the water between our boat and the net began to churn and roll as if it were boiling. The turmoil under the surface was so intense it caused the boat to rock violently. The rope in my hand went instantly tight, and I braced myself and pulled with all my strength. At the same instant I saw what was causing the sea to churn—fish! Hundreds and hundreds of fish, more fish than I had ever seen in one place at one time in my life.

I called to Andrew for help, and he grabbed hold and pulled with me. As we strained at the ropes, I peered over the side and was shocked to see what appeared to be several thousand fish all attempting to pack themselves into our net at once. It looked as though they were fighting for the honor of being caught. The weight of the net was far beyond our ability to handle, and I turned my head to shore and bellowed for James and John to come help. By the time they reached us, Andrew and I had been able to bring the edge of the net up high enough so that we could scoop fish into our boat. We scooped and scooped and scooped and scooped until the boat was so low in the water I was afraid we would sink. And still the net was packed with fish. We maneuvered the other boat alongside the net and filled it as well, then rowed the boats to shore, dragging the half-filled net behind us.

The range of thoughts and emotions I experienced during that quarter hour of chaos was unlike anything I had ever known before. At the first sight of all those fish, my initial reaction was the kind of elated greed I always experienced with a great catch. But it wasn't more than a few minutes before it became obvious even to me that what was happening here had nothing to do with fish. At one point in the harvesting process, I glanced up into Jesus' eyes and saw once again what I had seen so many times before—he knew. He knew about my plan to live a double life, to be a disciple by day and a fisherman by night. He knew the plan was rooted in the great false foundation of my existence—my unquestioning confidence in my own natural abilities. He knew my commitment to him was deep and genuine, but he also knew my practical trust in him was almost nonexistent. He knew I understood the world of the flesh perfectly and the world of the Spirit not at all. And in that instant I knew why I had fished all night and caught nothing. I caught nothing because he had told the fish to go away, just as he now told the fish to come.

I wonder if you can understand the terror that thought created in my mind. It shook the great pillars of my life. It meant that my effort, my abilities, my determination, and my physical strength were not and could not be my bottom line. It meant I was free to crank out as much effort and energy as I wanted to, but somehow this man could control what resulted from that effort. I felt suddenly, terribly ashamed—ashamed I hadn't talked to him about my worries, ashamed I hadn't trusted him, and ashamed most of all because he knew what was in my mind.

I waded through the fish to where Jesus stood, dropped to my knees at his feet, then blurted out, “O Lord! Stay away from me, for I am a sinful man.”

I didn't deserve these fish. I didn't deserve his kindness. I didn't deserve his friendship or his involvement in my life.

Jesus reached down, took my arm, and brought me to my feet. He wanted to see my eyes; he wanted me to see his. He said simply, “Don't be afraid. From now on you will be catching men.”

Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid of him. Don't be afraid of his ability to take care of my family. Don't be afraid of the future he has for me. Don't be afraid to walk away from the boat, the nets, and the illusion of security they provide. The issue was trust, of course—my willingness to trust him. It was just a beginning, but it was that. I had still learned very little about the difference between life in the flesh and life in the Spirit. But at least my double life ended that day. I ceased to be a disciple by day and a fisherman by night. From that day forward I became a full-time disciple of my Lord Jesus Christ. True, it was still a discipleship with deep roots in the flesh, but it was a start. And at that point it was all the Master asked of me because he knew it was all I was able to give. The teacher wanted my full attention, and now it was his. At last we were ready for class to begin.

It was now almost a year since the Master's entrance into my world, almost a year since he called me Peter, almost a year since he quietly dropped his net of love around me and began drawing me to himself. I had fought that net as I had never fought anything before in my life. I wanted so much to keep him at arm's length, to be objective, uninvolved. I could not deny his incredible authority, but neither would I submit to it. A year of fighting his gentle relentless pursuit left me exhausted. Now at last I was at peace. The quiet terror that had formed the backdrop to my life since the first day we met was finally gone, replaced by a vision of the most glorious future imaginable.

How could I have been so fortunate? Here I was, standing beside the man who was obviously destined to rule our nation, perhaps even to rule the world. Jesus had spent the previous twelve months assembling his team, introducing himself, his message, and his powers to Israel. Now at last the conquest could begin in earnest. The goal was obvious—the restoration of Israel to its former glory. The role I would play in that restoration was not yet clearly defined, but now that my total allegiance to the Master was certain, and my remarkable gifts and abilities were at his disposal, together we would find a way.

My heart was pure, but I had it all wrong—both the goal and the means. He knew, of course. He also knew if he had told me then that his goal was the cross and his means in all things was the Spirit of God, it would have sounded like gibberish to me. True, the hardest work was done; my spirit now belonged to him. But my confidence in my own abilities was still unassailable. He knew I would not let go of that confidence until I first placed all my hope in its sufficiency and then saw it fail me utterly.

Though it didn't seem like it at the time, the Master's first year among us possessed an almost leisurely quality compared with the intensity of his remaining days on earth. His fame spread throughout the nation, and the understandable exuberance of some of those who were healed made life for the Master increasingly difficult. The impact of that fellow cured of leprosy was typical.

We were on a short preaching tour in one of the villages near Capernaum when he approached the Master. As always the crowds were packed around Jesus, with everyone trying to touch him, to hear him, to squeeze in a little closer to him. My brother and I were right next to the Master, doing our best with crowd control, when a commotion erupted at the back of the crowd. Then suddenly the mass of humanity in front of us parted, like the Red Sea before Moses, with people fleeing in every direction. They were pushing and shoving to get out of the way of whoever or whatever was coming toward us.

Then we heard a man giving the required warning to those who might be in his way: “Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!”

We all knew what it meant—a leper was coming. Few diseases create a deeper sense of fear and revulsion in our society than leprosy. Though not highly contagious, the disease can be contracted through contact with an infected person. There is no cure, of course, and once infected, the leper is compelled to spend the rest of his life in isolation and poverty. Though the disease can eventually cause grotesque and hideous external deformities in the infected person, the greatest pain comes from being compelled to live a life of endless physical and emotional separation from the world.

The man who approached us that day was as pathetic in appearance as any I have ever seen. His condition gave him a free ticket to a private audience with the Master. No one in that crowd would attempt to hinder his approach.

He walked straight up to Jesus and dropped to his knees before him. Andrew and I instinctively stepped back several paces, but Jesus didn't move. The man knew better than to risk touching the Master, but he looked straight up into his eyes. His nose was collapsed, and his lips and earlobes were enlarged and distorted into gruesome deformity.

The man's most distinctive characteristic, however, was not his appearance; it was his remarkable faith in Jesus. As he knelt in the dust before the Teacher, he said simply, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”

As I stood there staring at the pathetic wretch before us, I was struck with a sudden compulsion to protect the Master from the embarrassment of failure. I wanted to spring forward and say in a quiet, compassionate, yet authoritative voice, “I'm sorry, but we don't do leprosy. I'm sure you understand.” The man's request was unreasonable in the extreme. He had been afflicted by this disease for years until his body was now a mass of horrible deformity. To ask the Master to halt the progression of the disease might have been reasonable. To ask for total cleansing with the obvious anticipation of complete restoration was absurd.

But before I could open my mouth, Jesus did what no other human being had done for more years than I even dared guess—he reached out and placed his hand on that leper's face. He was obviously deeply moved by both the faith and the suffering of the man before him. Not only was he not repulsed by the man's condition, Jesus actually seemed to be drawn to it. Then, with his hand still cradling the leper's head, Jesus said simply, “I am willing; be cleansed.”

And cleansed he was! In an instant the creature before us was transformed from an ugly mass of deformed flesh into a man in his midforties with strong features and clear eyes that radiated an obvious love for life. For several seconds he just stared at his hands. Then he felt his face, sprang to his feet, wrapped his arms around the Master, and began bouncing around with Jesus, imprisoned in his bear hug. The healed man alternately laughed and cried and bellowed, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

When Jesus finally got the fellow calmed down a bit, he gave him two specific instructions. “See that you tell no one; but go to the priest, show yourself to him, and present the offering that Moses commanded, for a testimony to them.”

The man did fine with the second part of the Master's instructions. The offering, of course, had to be made at the temple in Jerusalem, so the man set off immediately on the several days' journey he had before him.

But he failed miserably with the first part of the instructions. In fact, even before he was out of our earshot, we could hear him proclaiming to every person he met, “Look what Jesus did! Look what Jesus did! I was that leper you always ran away from. Now look at me. I'm whole, I'm cleansed, I'm free. Look what Jesus did!”

We found out all too soon he kept this up with every person he met throughout the entire trip to and from Jerusalem, creating a massive wake of people who were frantic to find the man who could perform such wonders. By the time the cured leper had finished his journey, the crowds seeking an audience with Jesus were so great, we could no longer openly enter the cities.

On the surface it looked as if everything was progressing gloriously. Jesus was the hero of the masses as no one had ever been in the history of our nation. But, if you could have forced me to be honest during those early months of my second year with the Master, I would have told you that I saw him making what I believed were potentially disastrous tactical errors. Popularity was all well and good, but popularity did not bring about political power, and it was political power we needed if Jesus was going to move into the leadership position I had in mind for him. Certainly I didn't want him to compromise his values, but why did he have to intentionally make himself offensive to those who held the power?

The trouble began as the result of an incident that took place in Capernaum shortly after the leper was healed. Motivated in part by the leper's exuberant testimony in the temple, a number of key religious leaders from Jerusalem, Judea, and throughout Galilee came as a delegation, seeking an interview with Jesus. His popularity had increased to the point where he could no longer be ignored by those who held positions of power in Israel. This would be their first official contact with the Master.

The nature of the group and the prominence of those involved necessitated a closed meeting. The house being used by Mary, and by Jesus when he was in town, was the obvious place to have such a meeting. It was well suited for gatherings, with a large, open, central living area ideal for controlled meeting situations. The arrival of so many prominent men heightened the already intense interest of the local population, but only a select few were permitted inside, while the uninvited were forced to stand in the heat of the sun, peering in through the windows and crowding around the door.

I was a nervous wreck that day. I wasn't sure Jesus fully appreciated the importance of this meeting. These were the men who mattered, the men who possessed the power to move Jesus into a key leadership position. Their blessing and approval would do wonders for the movement. I wanted so much for everything to go well. I wanted them to like Jesus. I wanted them to be impressed with him. I wanted them to see his obvious potential for leadership.

I spent the morning trotting from visitor to visitor, finding places for them to sit, making sure everyone was as cool and comfortable as possible. The room was packed, but somehow we were able to get them all in. I kept watching the religious leaders to see how they were responding. I found it hard to read their faces, but as far as I could tell things seemed to be going pretty well. They were clearly interested in what Jesus was saying. If only we could pull this off . . .

Then a sudden commotion on the roof just above Jesus' head disrupted the meeting. The sounds of heavy feet and breaking tiles on the flat roof overhead echoed throughout the room. Bits of dirt, broken tile, and other roofing material showered down onto the group, followed immediately by a sudden, brilliant blast of sunlight that caused us all to squint, making it impossible for us to see clearly what was happening just above our heads.

The commotion continued for another few minutes as the opening grew ever larger. Then, without warning, a stretcher suspended by two ropes dropped directly in front of Jesus. A young man, paralyzed from the waist down, lay on the stretcher, looking up at the Master.

As soon as the stretcher hit the ground, a silence and sense of anticipation more intense than the heat engulfed the crowd. This was what they were really here for. They had heard the rumors and the testimonies. Now they would see firsthand. Jesus would reach down, heal this helpless man with just a touch or a word, and victory would be ours. As I stood there next to the Master, waiting once again for the magic to happen, I wondered why I hadn't thought of staging something like this myself.