Gospel of John

"From the Lips of Fish" – John 21:1-19

John 21:1-19

After Jesus appeared to his followers in Jerusalem, he showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off.
When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”


At the summer camp in Ohio where Lindsey and I worked, there was a pond. In this pond were fish. To my knowledge, no one ever ate the fish that were caught in the pond. We simply threw them back into the water, over and over again.

Now, when I say “we” I am referring to everyone except me. I will never be confused with a fisherman. I can barely muster up the courage to pierce a worm with a hook. Now, when I say, “I can barely muster up the courage,” I mean, I cannot muster up the courage. Every time I took kids to fish in the pond, I teamed up with another counselor who would handle all of the parts dealing with hooks either going into or out of wiggling, convulsing creatures. 

One morning when we were fishing, and when I say “we” I mean “they;” when they were fishing, a kid reeled in a fish. I happily let the other counselor grab the fish, release the hook, and toss it back into the water. Except that at nearly the exact same time, another kid caught a fish; and then another kid caught a fish. Three fish on hooks; two counselors. The other counselor was busy. It was up to me to touch the fish, release the hook, and toss it back into the water.

The problem was that every time I touched the fish, it moved…and creeped me out. I must have tried a half a dozen times to grab hold of the fish without throwing up. I finally got hold of it. I grabbed the hook and tried to wiggle it out.

Recall, I said we never ate the fish, we simply threw them back into the water, over and over again. Well, this particular fish had been caught dozens of times before. How do I know this? The fish’s “lip” (do fish have lips?) was perforated like a piece of paper designed to be torn in two. 

I grabbed the hook, tried to wiggle it out, and the whole lip – a perfect circle – came off with it. I returned the fish to the pond. Now, when I say I “returned the fish to the pond,” I mean that I screamed and threw the fish like a fastball into the water.

I’m no fisherman.

But I love John’s story of Jesus’ fishermen disciples. Because while I’m not a fisherman, I am a Christian who is committed to the Christ’s work in this world through the church. And as it turns out, fishing and being a Christian, and being a part of a church, are very similar endeavors.

Recall from the gospel story last week that Jesus had already appeared to the disciples two times since being raised from the dead.  The most earth-shattering event in history had just unfolded, and what were the disciples doing? Fishing! Not fishing for men, as Jesus had instructed them; but fishing for fish. 

This strikes me as similar to someone undergoing a serious and complicated surgery that saves their life, only to spend the rest of their days lying on the couch watching TV. Everything the disciples had learned, witnessed and experienced had prepared them for lives of courageous service and miracle-working…not fishing.

No wonder, then, that Jesus appears to them a third time. The disciples still don’t get it!

And yet, Jesus doesn’t come with judgmental or condemning words. In fact, he gives them a pointer on how to actually catch the fish they’re fishing for. The secret, the unbelievable secret, the secret that no one else seemed to consider throughout the evening…put out the net on the other side of the boat! It’s an invitation to try again, even after failing all night long.

The disciples end up with quite a haul of fish – 135 big ‘ens. They realize the mysterious man on the shore with the incredible fishing advice was Jesus. So they come ashore, and find that Jesus has already provided them with bread and fish. And yet, Jesus invites them to contribute a portion of their haul to the beachside barbecue.

There is an important connection between this scene and our life of faith. We are commissioned – called and sent – at our baptism to share in the work and ministry of our Lord. 

And yet we often fall short, failing to give witness in word or deed to our faith in the living Lord. 

And yet Jesus doesn’t just call and send us, Jesus also forgives us when we fall short. 

And Jesus doesn’t just forgive us, but calls us to try again. 

And Jesus doesn’t just call us to try again, Jesus also invites us to share what we have and gives us meaningful work to do.

Is it possible that we as a church have failed to give witness in word or deed to our faith in the living Lord?

Is it possible that Jesus has forgiven us for falling short?

Is it possible that Jesus is calling us to try again?

Is it possible that Jesus is inviting us to share what we have? Is it possible Jesus is giving us meaningful work to do?

It’s more than possible; it’s a fact. What you do matters. As parents or children, siblings or friends, employees or volunteers, citizens or neighbors, you are called to look for opportunities to care for the people and world God loves so much.

Do you love Jesus? If so, you are to care for the people and world God loves so much.

Do you love Jesus? If so, then you need to take some risks. 

Do you love Jesus? If so, then live in a way that honors the fact that Jesus has destroyed the power of death.

Like Peter, we too will deny Jesus. We will convince ourselves we have nothing to offer anyone. We will follow the path of certainty, even if it is certainly leading to death. But like Peter, we will have as many opportunities to serve God as we have denied Jesus.

We are called to be fishers of men. 

Some of us will get sea sick – we’ll want to leave the church because it navigates the rough waters of faith instead of resting on the solid ground of certainty.

Some of us will get queasy at the idea of touching a fish – reaching out with compassion to someone different from you; someone who is struggling and afraid. 

Some of us will become impatient after not catching anything all night long – we look around and wonder, “Shouldn’t our church be growing more and doing more?” 

And some of us will forget that Jesus has already provided everything we need to survive and thrive and is inviting us to rest and enjoy God’s provision. 

I don’t know if you like to fish for fish. But each one of us, regardless of our age, physical ability, or sense of faith, is called to fish for people. We will get sea sick, queasy, impatient and forgetful. But by proclaiming God’s grace through Jesus Christ, by caring for those in need, by loving those who have been disregarded, we will be living lives that give honor to God and ourselves.

May Cross of Grace Lutheran Church be a boat navigating the rough waters of faith. May this church be patient through the lonely nights. May this church be willing to risk failure by tossing the net off the other side of the boat. And may this church never lose sight of Jesus who provides all we need and guides us safely to shore.

Amen.

"Shut Up and Show Up" – John 20:19-31

John 20:19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."

But Thomas (who was called the Twin ), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.


Whenever this bit about Doubting Thomas shows up – especially just the week after Easter – I side with Thomas. Frankly, I feel like Thomas gets a bad rap by forever being dubbed the “doubting” one. At least it seems like a bad rap to me, if the presumption is that Thomas’ doubting is a bad, or negative, or less-than-faithful way of being in the world and responding to the good news of Easter.

And I’m not one to throw stones, I have to tell you, because who could blame Thomas, really? I think I might have been right there with him – skeptical, cynical, afraid, doubtful, whatever – in the face of this Easter news, so soon after it had all gone down. And I would have been skeptical not just because the news was out of this world… crazy… unbelievable stuff about a man being raised from the dead. Never mind the unbelievable facts of the matter. The sources of the story – the reporters of the news – weren’t the most reliable bunch, remember.

These disciples, I mean, had been down a long road of ministry together, and time and again they had missed the point. They misunderstood Jesus’ teachings. They misinterpreted Jesus’ miracles. They misjudged Jesus’ intentions all along the way – as he spent time with sinners, while he healed the sick, or when he preached about the Kingdom of God. And just the week before, leading up to his crucifixion and death, one disciple betrayed him, another disciple denied him three times, others fell asleep on him in the garden before his arrest and every one of them left Jesus in the dust to be taken away and crucified. So it’s no wonder Thomas doubted what these knuckleheads were telling him they had just seen.

And I would say we’re no different, too much of the time. And that the world around us is filled with “Doubting Thomases” who have a lot of really good reasons – just like Thomas – to be cynical, skeptical, and afraid, even, about the motives, the mission, and the ministry of so many Christians in the world.

I read an article recently about what non-believers believe about Christian people, these days, and it’s not pretty, or easy to swallow. When asked what they would say to Christians if they thought we would listen, non-believers said things like:

Christians are hypocritical.

Christians hold modern beliefs that aren’t Christ-like.

Christians think that philosophy, science, postmodernism, movies, [and more] are out to get them.

Christians are judgmental, narrow-minded, and tell others how to live their lives.

Christians reject reality, think non-believers are horrible and unworthy, and condemn others.

Christians are arrogant, and think asking questions and searching for answers is a bad thing.

Christians are on the wrong side of big issues like discrimination against people of color, women, and homosexuals.

Of course, I don’t think these opinions are right for all Christians, but I’ve seen and read and know enough Christian people to understand why these stereotypes and opinions exist – and are true in too many cases. And because of them, it makes the prospect of sharing Easter’s good news in ways that will matter for people like Thomas – the doubters, the skeptics, the cynics; and the scared and the sad and the struggling, too – a daunting proposition. And sharing Easter’s good news is what we’re called to be about as people who believe it. It’s what Jesus was up to when he showed up in that room, breathing, sharing the Holy Spirit, showing off the battle scars of his crucifixion, and charging his followers with the power to forgive sins.

And my temptation – and I think that of too many Christians – is to see Jesus’ encore performance – the following week, when he showed up again, for the benefit of Thomas? – as a second attempt at proving his case; as evidence that couldn’t be refuted; as a closing argument for the defense, if you will, for the hard-hearted, closed-minded, doubt-filled disciple who missed it the first time.

But then I remembered something Philip Yancey has said: that “No one ever converted to Christianity because they lost the argument.” “No one ever converted to Christianity because they lost the argument.”

And it made me imagine that Jesus was up to much more than just proving his case or proving Thomas wrong. What Jesus did for Thomas was … whatever Thomas needed in order to believe, to have faith, to experience Easter’s joy and good news and new life, in a way that mattered for Thomas.

So, I wonder what that means for me… for you… for us… as we do our best to live with faith – and to live faithfully – in these Easter days so many generations after the fact when our faith and belief are so wrapped up in how we’ll vote and who we’ll vote for; when so many confess their faith in defensive ways; when so much proclamation and pretend evangelism happens by way of tweets and memes and bumper stickers; when faith is debated and debatable and argued and fought over in ways that drive away the skeptics and the cynics and the scared and the struggling, instead of drawing them closer to the light and life and peace and joy God means to offer.

And I think it means we do more of what Jesus did for Thomas: we don’t debate; or argue; or shame; or scare. We don’t state our case or prove our point with words or arguments or whatever.

We show up, like Jesus did. We share the waters of baptism and new life … not just in worship on Sunday morning, but by building water cisterns for families in Haiti, and by protecting the waters of God’s creation.

We show up, like Jesus did. We break bread, not just in worship, but in the world, by sharing food with our food pantry, or handing out those “bags of blessing,” when we see someone in need.

We show up, like Jesus did. We confess and forgive sins, not just as part of our liturgy, but daily, in prayer and in person, and for and with the people in our lives.

We show up, like Jesus did. We breathe and we live and move and have our being among believers and non-believers and other kinds of believers in this world, bestowing peace by way of our actions and presence and patience and grace.

We show up, like Jesus did. We show our scars, acknowledging our brokenness and our struggles and our fears and our doubts. And when we’re able – with honesty, integrity, hope, and joy – we share how God has filled the holes of that brokenness with light and life and healing and promise.

Because when we do these things – if we just show up and maybe shut up more often – we become the hands and feet of the resurrected Jesus, and others will see God’s grace at work among us and come to believe and share in this new life that belongs to us all.

Amen