Too Good to be True

Matthew 11:2-11

When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John:

“What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’

Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

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“Don’t get your hopes up; it sounds too good to be true.” T\p.hat’s what Katelyn said to me as I waved the gift card in the air. It was March of 2020 and we had just bought our first home. We were overjoyed and broke.

But then one day shortly after moving in, a very official looking piece of mail came from what sounded like a reputable company.

Curious I opened it up and to my delight there, in the letter, was a $150 gift card. “Congratulations on your new home. Here is a small gift from us.” It didn’t exactly cover our new mortgage but I was stressed about money and suddenly here was a small token of relief! The letter simply said to call this number to activate the card.

So I pull out my phone, call the number, and someone actually picks up; not a machine! This is good I think. Then I hear what are either other call center workers or a TV in the background…

That’s odd, but, ever the optimist, I say, “I got your letter and I’m calling to activate the card.” The person on the other end said “Great! I just needed your social security number and”... Before she could finish the sentence I hung up; irate, and embarrassed. Katelyn turned to me and said those four words you hate to hear, “I told you so..”

She was right. The gift card was indeed too good to be true.

Yet, isn’t that how scams, or just marketing in general, work? Preying on folk’s needs, desires, and insecurities by promising something that fixes their problems. You’ve been there or felt that way. Stressed about money when suddenly you get an email saying you’ve won the sweepstakes.

Struggling to do all that needs to get done in a day when you see an influencer taut a new device or appliance that promises to give you hours back.

Or you're lonely, feeling like you’ve got no one there for you when you see an online ad that promises your loneliness will go away with this new app.

We want to believe these things will work, that they’ll do what they say, and offer relief, if even temporarily.

I imagine John the Baptist was in search of some relief too as he sat in prison. He’s in there because he told Herod not to marry his own brother’s wife, that’s against Jewish law. Herod did it anyway and then threw John in jail.

We don’t know how long John had been in prison. But if it were me, it wouldn’t take long at all before I felt alone, afraid, and desperate to get out. So I can only assume John felt the same way.

But then comes the news of all that Jesus was doing. Over the last few chapters in Matthew, Jesus was on the move, doing all sorts of miraculous deeds:Healing the sick, calming storms, casting out demons, giving sight to the blind, voice to the voiceless, and even raising a young girl from the dead.

All of this spread through the towns, the countryside, even to the dark prison where John sat, growing more desperate with each passing day. I can’t help but think John heard these reports and remembered Isaiah’s promise — the blind seeing, the lame walking, the deaf hearing.

John knows the world is full of false hopes and empty promises. People have claimed to be the messiah before — but could this one be real? Could this be the One who brings a new kingdom, who sets the captives free, who fulfills everything I’ve prayed, preached, and prophesied? Hope rises, but doubt remains. … so he sent some of his disciples to ask the question… “are you the one? Or are we supposed to wait for another”.

Notice John says we, not I… meaning his concern isn’t only about himself. Even though he’s in a terrible situation, he worries about all the other people who are struggling too. It’s as if John asks, “Are you too good to be true Jesus, I need to know not only for me but for everyone in need of relief from the darkness they endure.”

Hopefully I’m not the only one who’s asked that question — or wondered, especially in Advent, if it’s all too good to be true.

That God would leave heaven and become human, be born to poor, unwed parents, live under occupation, suffer betrayal, and willingly die a terrible death, all so that he could forgive you and me and all the world, and we could live with the assurance of his grace, a grace that we could never earn but is freely given, with no strings attached? That certainly sounds too good to be true.

Jesus responds by saying: “Go tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the lepers cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead raised, and good news brought to the poor”. It’s not exactly a straight answer.

It would have been so much easier for John, his disciples, and even for us, if Jesus gave a direct answer and said “yes, I am the one you’ve been waiting for. I am the Messiah”. But he didn’t.

And to complicate things further, John’s disciples didn’t only see miracles. Pain and suffering, oppression and death were all around them — just as they are in our own time. Look at what’s happened in the last 24 hours…

We never know if John received this answer from Jesus or if he was satisfied with it. But what about you? Does it satisfy you?

We, like John, sit in our own prisons. They may not have bars, but they entrap us just the same:

a quiet house filled with loneliness,

a mind crowded with worry at 2 a.m.,

grief that quietly overwhelms,

a world that feels too heavy to bear.

From that darkness, we ask the same question, “Are you the one Jesus? Are you the one who’s come to set all this right? To set me right? How can we know? Well this may come as a shock, but we can’t know, at least not on our own.

Luther puts it this way, “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ”

but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, leads me to faith, and keeps me in faith.”

It is a gift, not something we come up with on our own, thanks be to God. And because of this gift, we can trust in the promises of Jesus.

When we doubt, when we struggle, when we feel overcome by suffering in the world, the Holy Spirit helps us trust that God is at work in places we wouldn’t expect! That’s what Jesus tells John and his disciples. Jesus says to them, “If you want to come to believe that I am the One, look at the places where there is suffering, in your own life and in the world around you. That’s where I am at work.”

Jesus is the one — not because everything feels fixed, but because he is already at work in the darkness.

Faith gives us not certainty, but trust in that promise.

I love what Bonhoeffer wrote to Maria, his fiance, while sitting in his prison cell during Advent in 1943. He wrote: “Just when everything is bearing down on us to such an extent that we can scarcely withstand it, the Christmas message comes to tell us that all our ideas are wrong, and that what we take to be evil and dark is really good and light because it comes from God. Our eyes are at fault, that is all. God is in the manger, wealth in poverty, succor in abandonment.”

Christmas, the promises of Jesus, grace… it all sounds too good to be true. But the truth is, it’s even better. Amen.

It's Not About the Fish

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 to 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, sons 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 had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

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My dad was a car salesman when I was growing up. He worked an odd schedule: 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. one day and 2 p.m. to 8 p.m. the next. One summer when I was about seven, he bought a little jon boat with an old motor.

On the days he didn’t have to go in until the afternoon, my dad, my brother, and I would strap the boat in the bed of the truck and head to Shadyside Lake for the morning. It was always a competition to see who would catch the most fish.

My dad usually came in last, though he’d tell you it was because I didn’t like taking my fish off the hook. It didn’t matter anyway because Chad always seemed to outcatch us. But our time fishing was never really about how many fish we caught.

We fished for sport, of course—just time for a father and his sons to be together, like every father wants. But for Simon Peter and the others, fishing was their job, their livelihood, a central part of their identity.

Their boat would have been one of, if not the most, important things they owned. So I wonder if Simon hesitated when Jesus asked him to put it out a little way from the shore so he could preach to the crowd pressing in on him. Whatever the case, Jesus went out on the lake, sat down, and preached.

When it was over, I’m sure Simon was ready to shake Jesus’ hand and say, “Great sermon today, Rabbi. Thank you very much. Let’s get you back to shore.” But that’s not what Jesus wanted. No, Jesus said, “Let’s go back out. I want to fish. I know where you should go.”

Do you think that’s what Simon really wanted to do? He had been out all night away from his family. He still had to wash the nets, and to make matters worse, he had caught nothing. No fish meant no money. No money meant all sorts of questions—how would he feed his family or buy the necessary supplies to keep his business afloat? So Simon responded, “Master, we were at this all night and caught nothing.” In other words: Jesus, take it from me—there's nothing out there.

I wonder how many times Simon rowed his boat ashore with empty nets. This likely wasn’t the first time. And think for a moment how hard that must have been—how it would leave Simon feeling. This was the thing he was supposed to be an expert in, the thing he’d done all his life. Like me, he spent many days fishing with his dad. So I imagine each time he spent all night on that boat and caught nothing, his inner critic was loud:

“You’re not a good fisherman, which means you’re not a good provider or husband. You don’t really know what you’re doing. You’re incompetent. You fail at this just like you do everything else.”

I have no doubt that voice left him feeling like he wasn’t good enough, smart enough, or rich enough. What he felt was despair. And when you feel that way, the last thing you want to do is go back out and try again.

Surely you know what that’s like—not for your nets to be empty, but to fail at the very thing you’re supposed to be good at. Or for your expertise to let you down. I have to believe you are no stranger to that inner critic telling you that you are not good enough, smart enough, or rich enough. If you are anything like me, you hear it nearly every night, saying you didn’t do enough today. You should have done more or done it better—because if you had, maybe people would see your worth. Maybe God would too.

Maybe your inner critic replays each encounter you had throughout the day, making you question what you said or did. Or perhaps it reminds you of all the mistakes you’ve made and why you aren’t worthy of love or joy.

How do we not fall into despair and self-doubt when we hear this?

But then Simon changes his mind and says to Jesus, “Yet if you say so.” Those five words are what being a follower of Jesus is all about. I’m not sure about this, God, but I’ll give it a go. I’ve got my doubts—about this and about myself—yet I trust you. I really don’t want to do this, Jesus, yet if you say so.

Simon says those five words and does as Jesus says. You know the story from there: the disciples catch a whole school of fish, and their nets begin to tear. So they call over their partners to bring another boat. Once help arrives, both boats are swimming in so many fish that they begin to sink. Now, it would be easy to get caught up in the fish, to think they are the most important, most miraculous part of this story. We could even twist this story to mean that if I am obedient to Jesus—if I just do what God says—then I too will get a miracle.

You likely don’t want a literal boatload of fish, yet you might hope for some miracle of abundance.

But don’t focus on the fish; that’s not the point of the story. If we do, we miss the most miraculous part—namely, that the Savior of the world is on board with them. The fish simply point to what’s most important: sitting beside them on their little boat is God in the flesh!

Everyone who saw the catch was amazed, but it is Simon who realizes what it means. So he turns to Jesus and says, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” In other words: I am not worthy for you to be on my boat. I’m not worthy because I doubted you. I’m not worthy because I’m just a fisherman, and not a good one at that. If you only knew me and my sin, if you heard my inner critic, then you too, Jesus, would know I’m not worthy.

But that’s exactly why Jesus got into the boat. He didn’t get on that boat because Simon had earned it. Clearly, it wasn’t Simon’s fantastic fishing skills that lured Jesus. If anything, it was the opposite. If anything, it was because the nets were empty. It was because Simon hadn’t caught any fish. It was because of the self-doubt and despair this so-called fisherman must have been feeling. If Simon had hauled in a huge catch the night before, what need would he have had for Jesus? It’s all grace that Jesus was on Simon’s boat. It wasn’t merit—because that’s not how the kingdom of God works. Jesus was there because Simon was in need.

The best news for all of us who hear that inner critic, who are familiar with despair and self-doubt, is that the same is true for us. God is in your boat—not because you are worthy, not because of your merit, not because what you think you are good at. It is because our nets are empty. It is because we have failed. It is because we are in need that Jesus gets on board. If we never doubted, if we never failed, what need would we have for such grace? It is grace that silences the inner critic, telling us that we are enough, we are worthy, because we are loved.

“Do not be afraid, from now you will catch people”. That’s our job, too. All around us people are falling into despair and self-doubt from the words of their inner critic, all of it amplified by the world we live in.

We are tasked with catching them by offering the same grace we have received in Jesus Christ. It’s getting on board with them when their nets are empty. It’s helping them—not because they’ve earned it, but because they need it.

Just as with my dad and brother, it’s not about the fish. It’s about recognizing that, as unworthy as we are, Jesus is on board with us, guiding us where we should go and what we should do. And even when we are unsure or unwilling to follow, may we have the strength and courage to respond: “But if you say so.”

Amen.