Gospel of Luke

Fishing for Partners in Mission

Fishing for Partners in Mission
Mark Havel

Luke 5:1-11

Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat.

When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.

But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, son of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” When they brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.


I usually read this story – or the other versions of it we find in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, the ones about “fishing for people” – as being about evangelism, outreach, and growing the church. I like that image of Jesus sitting in a boat on the Sea of Galilee and teaching the crowds. I’m inspired by the “nets full of fish” and the promise from Jesus that “from now on, you’ll be catching people.” The whole image of fishing as one for bringing others into the Church is well-known to most of us.

And the state of the Church these days – in these pandemic days, I mean – make this Gospel story as timely as ever, it would seem. Consider some statistics about the last couple of years for a minute:

  • Only 52% of church-goers want primarily in-person services again (Barna)

  • 71% of Boomers want primarily in-person services (Barna)

  • But less than 50% of Gen X (47%), Millennials (42%) and Gen Z (41%) want in-person services

  • In 2021, only 29% of Americans reported attending church in the last seven days, when asked – which was down from 48% in 2009. (Barna)

  • I’ve seen reports that churches are back to anywhere from 36% - 80% of what they were on average, before the pandemic started. Any way you slice it, that’s a pretty sharp decline.

So what in the world are we doing here? And how can we do it better? How can we make it more meaningful than it’s been in the past? Because the truth is, the decline in Church attendance and participation was happening long before any of us ever heard of COVID-19. The pandemic just accelerated what was already happening in a lot of churches, in a lot of ways.

But rather than wring our hands or cry in our fair-trade coffee… Rather than point our fingers or continue to fish in the same old waters, in the same old ways, I think we’re being invited to ask some different, bigger, more faithful questions about it all. And I think we can start finding answers and inspiration when we see what Jesus is up to – or not – in this morning’s Gospel.

See, when Jesus hijacks that boat and pushes off into the water that day, he just teaches. And then he tells Simon, who had been fishing all night long with no success, to cast his nets into deeper water. In spite of his reasonable doubts and serious insecurities, then, Simon Peter catches so many fish that his nets can barely hold them all and they start to tear. He catches so many fish that he has to call for backup and as they bring all of those fish into their boats, the weight of the catch is so great the boats actually begin to sink.

And what’s great about this story, and where I find the lesson for me and for all of us in the Church today – at Cross of Grace and otherwise – is that

Jesus didn’t actually do very much of anything. He did some teaching: maybe it was a sermon, maybe a study of Scripture, maybe he told another parable, we don’t know for sure. He offered some advice and direction: “get out into the deep water.” He gave the command: “let your nets down there.” And he made a promise: “from now on you will be catching people.” But what stands out to me in this first encounter with the first of his disciples, Jesus let them do all the work.

But unfortunately, while Jesus got things off to a great start, it’s not the way the Church has continued, in too many places.

Think about churches where you’ve been a member before. Were they congregations where the Pastor preached all of the sermons? Were they places where the Pastor visited all of the sick? Where the Pastor was expected to meet the needs of the people; to make the members happy; to do ministry but to not make waves? Were they places where 20% of the people did 80% of the work? Were they places where you – and most others – were expected to just show up on Sunday morning for worship and for special occasions like weddings, funerals and the annual Church picnic? (Unfortunately, I think this is the way things have forced so many churches to operate in the face of this pandemic.)

And all of this is the stuff of congregations who have members that want to be taken care of, who want to be served rather than to serve, who come to church looking for what it has to offer them, rather than helping to discern what they might have to offer the world. And this is the stuff of over-worked lay leaders, burned-out clergy, and dying congregations. And all of that is the stuff that leads to conflict, struggle, stagnation and demise. This is not who we have ever been or who I hope we will ever become at Cross of Grace.

It’s why we’ve always been deliberate about calling ourselves “Partners in Mission” here, instead of just “members.” As I said in a recent letter about our Building Fund, “The Church is not a country club. Cross of Grace is not a homeowners’ association. Discipleship is not like membership at the gym.” And I believe that mentality is what has sustained us until now – and what will keep us alive and well and thriving in the days to come.

So, I’m not interested in – nor do I think Churches should give two rips about – making, collecting, or catching “members.” I think our call at Cross of Grace these days is to consider – more meaningfully, again – what it means to be “Partners in Mission,” instead, and to wonder what the implications of that have had and could continue to have for us in the days to come.

I’m not saying we’ve got it all figure out or that Cross of Grace has perfected the art of discipleship by any stretch. But our history and experience tell a different story from a lot of churches like ours, too.

I’d bet today’s offering that our team of musicians – and Stephen Jordan – are as faithful and as talented as any you’ll find in a congregation anywhere. And as volunteers, they are Partners in Mission in every sense of those words.

We’re Partners in Mission, too, who still mow our own lawn, clean our own toilets, and shovel our own snow around here.

We are Partners in Mission who prioritize financial stewardship, too – who encourage each other to give joyfully and generously to the ministry we share – because practicing generosity is as good for us as it is for the Church. I hope our nearly-eliminated mortgage is a sign and invitation to more of that.

Our up-and-coming Stephen Ministry is an exercise in Mission Partnership, as well. It’s a team of faithful disciples who will share real, meaningful, lasting care with others in a way that too many people believe only the Pastor can or should be allowed to do.

And none of this – the worship, the music, the Bible studies and the building – none of this is supposed to end with us, anyway. It’s all meant to inspire and to send us out to love and care for and serve the world. Because this Mission Partnership thing isn’t about fish at all. It’s about people – catching, serving, loving, and getting to work for and with people.

And the statistics that matter more than all of that church membership stuff, for me, right now, are these:

  • That nearly 2,000 people are homeless in Indianapolis in weather like this.

  • That almost 30 million people in our country had no health insurance in 2020, the year the pandemic hit.

  • Teen suicide attempts are up during these pandemic days: 51% for girls, 4% for boys

  • That Black people make up 38% of our country’s prison population, but only 12% of the population as a whole.

  • Oh, and that one more Black man was killed while sleeping in an apartment in Minneapolis on Wednesday.

These statistics matter more to me, because I believe this is the kind of thing Jesus called us to do something about when he invited us to catch people – to gather up and tend to those who need food, shelter, love and justice.

Which is hard, heavy, overwhelming, uncomfortable work for which I feel ill-equipped and out of my league to carry out most days, to be honest. But it’s why I wondered a new thing about this whole fishing for people analogy this time around.

What if the fish in those nets today aren’t the analogy or the metaphor we’re supposed to focus on at all – at least when it comes to growing the church or gathering followers for Jesus? What if by “catching people,” we’re supposed to focus more on Simon’s fishing buddies – the partners in the other boats, like James, John, and whoever else showed up to help that day? What if we’re meant to realize there are plenty of hearts and hands on deck, waiting to join us in work that matters and that it’s our job to put them to work? It was the people who got caught up in and changed by following Jesus, after all. All of those fish in all of those nets, just became dinner, in the end.

See, I believe all of this is about showing the world and reminding each other that we’re in this together; that we’ve got good news to share, every one of us; that we have plenty of love to give, you and I; that we all have something to offer for the sake of God’s kingdom, because we have been offered, already, the joy of grace, good news, and new life in Jesus Christ.

And this Mission Partnership thing can only be done when we start to see ourselves and our neighbors like Peter finally did that day on the shores of Galilee – as curious souls, however sinful and broken, but called and capable, nonetheless. And I’m convinced that others will join us when we step out into deep waters, ourselves, when we cast wide nets, ourselves – and maybe even leave a thing or two behind, ourselves – and when we invite anyone who’s willing to help us … to get their hands dirty … and to follow Jesus’ lead in a new way, for a change.

Amen

Baptism and Resolutions

Baptism and Resolutions
Mark Havel

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

As everyone was questioning in their hearts about John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered them all by saying, “I baptize you with water. One who is more powerful than I is coming. I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; and the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

After all the people were baptized and after Jesus himself was baptized and praying, the heavens opened and the spirit descended upon him in bodily form, like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the beloved. With you I am well pleased.”


Happy New Year. Which means it’s busy season for the diet and exercise industry as they take advantage of and market to all of our well-intentioned resolutions to turn over a new leaf for 2022.

And like some of you, I’ve been to the gym a few times this year already and the place has been busier than it was at the end of 2021. I’ve even avoided the gym a couple of times because I could tell from the overflowing parking lot I might have a hard time finding a treadmill.

And I hope it all works – for me, for the gym and for everyone who’s looking to be healthier with the help of it all. But, I’m skeptical. I wonder why I should expect 2022 to be any different than 2021, or 2020, or any other year for that matter. I suspect a great number of all those who will sweat it out in the next couple of weeks won’t be fighting for their spot at the gym by the time February or March roll around. I’m skeptical because I’ve dropped this ball more than once over the years.

And I worry that the same sort of thing threatens the Church – the Church in the world and the church here in our little corner of the Kingdom at Cross of Grace, too. First of all, I wonder if as many of us make resolutions about our faith the way we do about our weight or our diet or our exercise. I wonder do we resolve to pray more deliberately? So we commit to read our Bibles more often? Promise to get to worship more regularly? Set goals to give more generously?

And I wonder – and worry a bit about this some, I admit – because these pandemic days, have been a game-changer for churches, pastors and church leaders of all kinds. Something seems different – if not more difficult – or at least yet to be determined – about how our lives of faith together will look going forward.

I keep hearing about Sunday school attendance that’s down – for adults and for kids. (And I’ve noticed some of that here.)

I keep hearing about families who are staying away from worship to stay safe from the virus or staying away because worship online – under the covers or on the couch – isn’t so bad after all. (I tried it last week and I see some of the appeal, I’m not gonna lie.)

I keep hearing about how it seems increasingly more difficult to get volunteers for all sorts of ministries in the church.

And I keep hearing about worship trends in mainline Christian churches that are dropping slowly but steadily, all the time.

An Episcopal pastor I follow on Twitter tweeted this, just this week:

“This is probably the first time I’ve actually said this since the pandemic began: I’m not sure my church is going to recover from this. Oh, we’ll survive. We’ll still be here. But we’ll never be what we were. We won’t ‘go back’ to pre-pandemic attendance and involvement.”

And, as part of these conversations … this grief … this fear … this anxiety … in response to so much of what I read and hear about and see going on in churches out there in the world, many pastors and Church leaders are working really hard to come up with new plans and programs; different strategies and solutions; clever tricks and gimmicks, to get people connected and involved and engaged in a walk with God. They feel like new year’s resolutions to me – and I wonder if they will work or how long they will last.

And I’m not pointing fingers here. We’ve done our fair share of that, too; trying to revamp the GraceQuest program again; doing some new things with the High School kids; trying a new format for Faith Formation; I’m currently pouring over three different books, wondering which one will be the most interesting to as many of you as possible to engage in a study of some kind.

And I’m not complaining. Ministry has always been this way for me – always trying to find ways to make faith fun and engaging and relevant and attractive to as many people as possible; trying to convince people that this is worthwhile – for you, for us, and for the world. And I do it gladly (most of the time) because I’m ultimately hopeful about it all.

So, I don’t think God meant for there to be so much of the grief … the fear … the anxiety … that so many in the Church are feeling and fretting about these days. I think God made it a lot easier than all of that, if we can keep our perspective about what we’re up to.

And today is about perspective, because today, we commemorate, remember and celebrate the baptism of Jesus, so many years after his birth, which has captured our hearts and so much of our time over the last several weeks. And as we do that this morning, we’re meant not simply to reflect on the history of what happened to Jesus that day in the Jordan so many years ago. We’re meant to be filled up and inspired by what Jesus’ baptism means for those of us who’ve experienced it, and what it could mean for those of us who’ve yet to share in its promises, too.

Because in our service for baptism, after a person is washed with the water, “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” there is more to be said and done. A prayer is prayed, thanking God for freeing us from sin and for raising us up to new life and asking God to pour out upon us a Holy Spirit of wisdom and understanding, a spirit of counsel and might, a spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord, a spirit of joy in God’s presence.

And then a promise is made: “…Child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.” And a command is given: “Let your light so shine before others that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.” And, even if you weren’t baptized in a traditional, Lutheran service, I suspect some very similar promises were made and some very similar commands were given.

And this is powerful, meaningful, holy stuff. And it’s good to be reminded about it every once in a while, because I think part of our collective problem as believers in the world doesn’t have so much to do with what we’re willing to fix about ourselves or our churches or our lives – policies and programs, I mean; strategies and solutions; well-intended resolutions to do more or to be better. I believe part of our problem is that we’ve neglected to see – or we forget too easily to celebrate – just what God has already done on our behalf.

And that’s what we’re called to celebrate today. When the heavens open and the spirit descends and a voice booms, “You are my son, the beloved, with you I am well pleased,” we’re meant to know that these words have been spoken on our behalf. It wasn’t just then and it wasn’t just Jesus. When we are baptized into Christ Jesus, we become partners in that promise. We are allowed to hear our own name in his place. We hear for every one of us, “You are my son… You are my daughter… You are my child… and with you I am well pleased.”

And what’s amazing about that in lots of ways is when you consider the point at which these words come to Jesus. He hadn’t done a thing yet. He hadn’t fed the 5,000. He hadn’t healed Jairus’ daughter. He hadn’t raised Lazarus from the dead, walked on water, or resisted the devil’s temptations. He hadn’t lost ten pounds or broken any records for worship attendance, either. But God loved him already and was pleased with him from the very start … not because of anything Jesus had done, but because of what God was promising to do for him and through him.

And we’re meant to hear the same promise and to receive the same command of Holy Baptism in precisely the same way. We’re meant to see this water of grace and to hear these words of love as daily invitations for our forgiveness, toward faithful service and from whatever it is that pulls us away from a closer walk with our creator.

As this new year gets underway, maybe you’re relieved that last year is over… Maybe you’re scared of what this year will hold… Maybe you can’t see past this morning or beyond next week, let alone the 356 days to come. Whatever the case, I hope you’ll remember your baptism this morning – or look forward to what it could mean for you, if you’ve never been. And I hope you see everything in your life and in this world in light of God’s grace because of it.

Don’t resolve to eat better or to exercise more or to lose weight (or anything else, for that matter) because you have to. Do it because God loves you even if you don’t and because you want to live long and well in response to that good news.

And don’t resolve to worship or learn or serve more – in this place or anywhere out there in the world – because you feel obligated by what God has invested in you.

No, let’s do everything we do as Children of God and as God’s Church in the world – resolution or not – with the sign of the cross clearly marked on your heads and in our collective heart of hearts. And let’s do it gratefully with the light of God’s grace shining through us – because our lives and the world we share will be different and better and blessed because of it.

Amen