Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
This summer will be the 22nd anniversary year of
my ordination into the office of the holy ministry in the Lutheran Church –
Missouri Synod. A lot of baptismal water has flown under the bridge, so to
speak. I tell you this without bragging or boasting: the average pastorate
is now seven years before a man resigns from the office. There were days I
wondered if I would make seven, or seventeen, but the Lord has been good to me.
I’m humbled and thankful that the Lord sees fit to grant me the grace to
continue in this vocation that He called me into already as a boy and then formally
through the call process of the LCMS.
As I read this morning’s text, I started thinking about the 98
men, young and old, who graduated with me. We started together in the fall of
1996 and graduated in May of 2000. We were one of the largest and one of the
most diverse the Seminary had in a long time. About 70 of us were fresh from
college, in our early-to-mid-20s, many of us recently married, heading to Seminary
with whatever life experience we had working part-time summers and vacations. There
were lifeguards, grocery stockers, a house painter, waiters, a pre-law Harvard graduate,
a couple of farmer’s sons, and more than a few sons of Lutheran school teachers
or pastors. That was the old, traditional route for becoming a pastor: high
school, college, seminary, ordination. About 30 of us were called “second
career men,” who had been in the workforce for some time and were returning to
school to become pastors. John was a successful insurance agent. Mark owned a
Kinkos franchise. Phil had been successful in business. Dale retired as a beat
cop. Andrew was a restaurant manager. There were men with military service, a
physical therapist, truck drivers and heavy machine operators. Del was the
oldest member of our class, graduating at the age of 65. We even had a father
and son, the Wittes. Most of us thought we were well prepared, or at least as
well prepared as possible for the 4-year adventure we were about to undertake
in the theological crucible called Seminary.
Some of you remember my friend, Dr. Allain, who came and talked with us about suicide prevention a few years ago. I once asked her if every psychologist in training thought they had every psychological neurosis in the book. She said, of course – by the time they graduated, they all thought we are crazy as a loon. By the time we graduated Seminary, if there was any doubt before that, it was painfully obvious that our Lord was calling 98 sinners into service in His church. St. Paul claimed he was chief of sinners, but I often wondered if my classmates and I weren’t vying for second place.
That is the miracle in this morning’s Gospel lesson: Jesus
calls sinners to be fishers of men. He, who is perfect, holy, without blame or
defect, who is God in flesh, who humbled Himself to enter into humanity to
become one of us, live among us, die among us, and rise among us, He chooses
men so unlike Him to be messengers of the Gospel of peace. He calls lifeguards
and house painters, businessmen who write complex business plans and men who
can barely write a simple sentence, ex-cops and lawyers, restaurant managers
and hay-hauling, fence-post-digging, tire-changing, sons of Lutheran school
teachers to be His servants – sinners, all. Men who recognize just how far they
--- we --- are from the holiness that God demands. And, God called us.
This is not new – not to the Lutheran Church – Missouri
Synod, to the Christian Church of North America, or to any branch of
Christendom. God calls sinners into service. In this morning’s Gospel lesson, Jesus
calls Peter and his partners James and John, the Sons of Thunder, to
discipleship, to cast aside their nets and become fishers of men.
I said that was the miracle of the text, that God calls
sinners. Technically, it was the second miracle. The first was when Peter
caught so many fish that his boat began to sink. It was mid-day, when fish and
fishermen were supposed to be resting. Jesus had used Peter’s boat as a pulpit,
preaching to the crowds gathered on the shore, and afterward, told Peter to go
out to deeper water and cast the nets again. The last few weeks, we have heard
about the power of Jesus’ words. Here, again, Jesus’ powerful word leads Peter
to do what seemed a waste of time. “Master” – note the title; not Lord, but
Master – “We toiled all night and took nothing, but at your word I will let
down the nets.” In an instant, Luke says they were “enclosed” – surrounded - by
fish that filled the nets, so much so that the nets began to break and the
boats sink.
Miracle of miracles, the Lord of Creation was generous in
providential abundance. Daily bread, or, in this case, daily fish, overflowed; First
Article gifts abounded. “For all which it is my duty to thank, praise, serve
and obey Him,” Luther summarized in his Catechism. There was enough fish to put
a fisherman in the black for days if not weeks. O, give thanks to the Lord for
He is good!
But not Peter. No, Peter falls on his knees in sheer terror,
recognizing his situation, a sinner standing before Jesus. Before, Jesus had
been “Master.” Now, Peter knows He is the Lord. “Depart from me, for I am a
sinful man, O Lord.” Peter knows who is in his boat and he is most unworthy. He
heard Jesus rebuke the fever from his mother-in-law; he saw the demons flee at
the Word of Jesus. It’s one thing to see the miracles of Jesus. It’s another
thing to be the first-hand recipient of them and to suddenly realize just who
Jesus really is and that He is standing next to you. Peter’s response is dire
and it is sincere: Please, Jesus – go! I am a sinner! I cannot survive your
holiness; You cannot abide my sinfulness. I am unworthy of Your very presence.
Please: go!
There is a third miracle that takes place in these short
verses: Jesus speaks an absolution to Peter. “Do not be afraid.” The miraculous
catch physically, materially demonstrates the miraculous love of Jesus for this
man standing in front of him. As the Word rebuked the demons and the fever, as
the Word commanded Peter to put out to the deep, so also the Word forgives and
with forgiveness comes the miracle of making the unworthy sinner fit to stand
in the presence of the holy God. This is the miracle of forgiveness. And Jesus,
having delivered forgiveness to Peter, calls Peter, then, to proclaim that same
miracle of forgiveness as a fisher of men.
There are several wonderous events that happen in this
morning’s Gospel reading. What is a greater miracle: that Peter catches fish in
the middle of the day – so many that the boat begins to sink; that Jesus calls
Peter, an acknowledged sinner who is afraid to be in the Lord’s presence, into
discipleship as a fisher of men, or that Jesus declares forgiveness to sinners,
such as Peter?
Or, is it that the Lord, through the preaching of sinners
like Peter, James and John; of Kyle and Joel, Dale and Phil, and even Jonathan,
that the Lord continues to use us to be the fishers of men who, with the net of
preaching the Gospel, brings other sinners into the boat of the church. Jesus, Whose word once drove out demons and
fevers, who called men to discipleship as fishers of men, continues to call
people into the church with His Word.
The miracle continues: through the preaching and Gospel
net-casting of the forgiven men of God who serve the Lord’s Church, some whose
pictures hang on the wall in the education building, you were brought into this
boat, this nave, this congregation and into the body of Christ. Here, through
the Word, the Good News of Jesus Christ, the unworthy are made worthy. Here, sins
are forgiven in the name of Jesus. Here, His body and blood are distributed through
bread and wine; sins are washed away; Christ is present, calling sinners to
receive His gifts.
And, through Christ, we are invited to remain in the
presence of the holy God.
Amen.
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