The Catch that Caught Me off Guard.
Sweat streamed down my forehead & back as we hauled the salt soaked nets back into the hull. Gravel scraped loudly against the underside of the boat and it groaned in protest as the bow came to a halt on the misty beach. Last night’s fog still hung stubbornly close to the rim of the water.
I swung myself up over the starboard edge and cursed under my breath as my foot caught the front edge of a jagged stone under the murky surface. I cursed again. A little louder this time… just because I felt like it.
I cursed the fact that I was out of options, the fact that I had no good news to share when I got home. Cursed the fact that I had been born into poverty and into a trade that depended on Mother Nature’s good will, or God being in a generous mood, rather than on my own sweat ethic.
This had carried on for days now… I was no stranger to sleepless nights, but usually I had something to show for it by morning. Not this time. Or the last time. Nor the time before that.
It definitely wasn’t for lack of trying for God’s sake… it was just, apparently… for lack of fish in the sea. Dragging in one empty net after another. Seeing one more worried look from my spouse. One more hungry stare from my family around the dinner table… It was beginning to take its toll seriously now.
I kicked the side of the boat in rage. And frustration at the unfairness of the world… the cruelty of life. None of the other men said anything. We were all feeling the same sense of failure in the pit of our stomachs. That same weariness that your bones feel — not from drudgery or even hard labor, but from the realization that all of your skills, know-how, and planning still amounted to nothing more than empty hands and empty bellies.
I was just settling into my mental misery quite nicely and feeling suitably sorry for myself, when the stranger came up behind me and said plainly and politely that he would like to use my boat.
Buddy, you can take it- hasn’t done me any good anyhow.. I thought.
But what I said was, “What for?”
He explained briefly that he wanted a little distance between him and the shore so that the people ( who I only just noticed were amassing pretty quickly) could all see and hear him better.
Spending most of my life on the water meant that I understood that if you didn’t want your words to be overheard out on the lake, then your best bet was to not say them. Still waters carried sound quite well, and I was secretly impressed that this teacher was apparently aware of that.
So I shrugged and said “Hop in.”
We slid out a few yards where he stood in the bow and carried on with a bunch of nice stories. I kept us pointed straight toward the beach for him, and since my brain could do that on auto pilot, my thoughts returned to mulling over what rottten luck I had, and trying to figure out how I was going to break the news to my family that we would be skipping supper…. Again.
Suddenly, I was pulled out of my thoughts when the teacher’s shadow fell upon my face, and he gave me a quizzical look.
I figured it was because he had finished speaking, people were dispersing, and he expected to be taken back to shore.
I dug the oars into the water to take us that direction, and he said, “No. Head out deeper.” Then added, “ and drop your nets for a catch.”
I covered my annoyed-half-chuckle by clearing my throat…
“Teacher, we’ve been at this all night, and didn’t even snag a sardine.”
He kept his gaze fixed out toward the depths and seemed utterly undeterred by my remark.
I let out a purposefully audible sigh, but said.
“If you say so, I’ll let out the nets.”
I took us out only a few meters deeper… not that it mattered.
By now the sunlight was at its least ideal angle in the sky- casting the massive shadow of the boat and the ripples on the lake into the blue below.
We were basically broadcasting on the mainstream underwater network to any and all stray fish, that had magically materialized since last night to NOT swim in our direction.
I turned to the stranger as I picked up my net with my eyebrows raised. He looked calmly back at me with his own eyebrows raised as well. Asking without words: Well? What are you waiting for?
I stared back in utter disbelief for another second, utilizing every ounce of self-control to not just full-on roll my eyes at this know-it-all across from me.
In that moment, his gaze shifted almost into a contented kind, accompanied by a subtle smirk.
Whatever, I thought.
He’ll see soon enough. Not like I had anything better to do today anyway.
And I tossed the net half-heartedly into the cool blue.
Instantaneously, the surface churned furiously, as if enraged. I shot a glance at the sky to make sure a storm wasn’t sneaking up on us. Then back at the stranger sitting coolly behind me. Now he wasn’t even trying to conceal his grin.
My eyes jumped back to the foaming splashes & gasped as I almost lost my grip on the net.
HOLY…
“HELP! OVER HERE!” I felt myself shout. “HURRY UP!” I roared to the other fishermen still on shore.
My net was about to snap, or my bones were… I couldn’t tell which.
THis. Was. INSANE.
The other boat reached us just as I thought my shoulders would be torn out of their sockets. They lunged to grab the other corners of the net.
The Stranger was laughing outright now.
Just trying to haul the nets in nearly capsized our boats completely. They were so full, the rim was barely a few inches above the waterline. The fish flopped around up to our knees, this way and that, nearly making it impossible to move.
I look incredulously to my left to see the man, who I had thought was just another run-of-the-mill teacher, stooping down over the side of the boat to help hold the net from slipping back into the sea. He was still laughing… a nice kind of laugh really. Hearty, content, and warm. The sort that makes you fee like laughing too.
I found myself in stunned silence, which was rare for me. It was partly from the exhaustion, partly from the absolute absurdity of what was happening, and fully from sheer amazement and awe.
The boat scraped onto the sand and I fell to the ground in front of Him.
My mind raced with the ramifications of who this man might be.
And I begged him to leave. He had no idea who I was. I told him to keep away from me, He didn’t know the kinds of things I had done. I was a broken human, and this was clearly a Holy man. No one could perform such a miracle. I knew I did not deserve his kindness or help.
Much less his proximity. He clearly was unaware of the type of life I had lived.
Every thought of doubt and dismay was silenced when he looked into my eyes. There was an understanding, a familiarity in them that shook my soul.
He spoke, authority and confidence in his request, “ Come with me. I will make a new kind of man out of you. I will make you a fisher of men.”
And without hesitation, I let go of the net….dropped the oars. And left to follow Him.
This story is based upon (Luke 5, Mark 1:16 — 20)
It is imaginative and takes creative license. It is not strictly Scriptural.
It’s meant to be immersive and give life to an old tale. Did it work?
Questions to reflect on:
- Have you ever felt God call to you?
- Did you listen? What did you sense Him saying to you?
- If not, what do you think stopped you from listening or hearing him?
- If you followed his call, what did you need to leave behind? How did that effect your movement toward his call? Is there anything else you think you need to let go of now?
- What encouraged you to trust Him and keep going?
- Why do you believe he called you?
Copyright. Amanda Mead 2024.
