Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.
Jesus comes to a lake and sees a couple of fishing boats. He got in Simon’s boat and asked him to out from the shore, where he proceeded to teach from the boat those on the shore. When he’d finished speaking, he told Simon to put out their nets for fish. Simon’s first response rings so true for me. Simon says that they’d fished all night and hadn’t caught anything. His second response is one of pure faith. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.
Many years ago, I was serving as an independent consultant for communities that were making governance decisions. Should we become a city? Should our city merge with the county? My role was to look at data of service demands on police, land use, roads and figure out what the financial impact would be to collect taxes on a newly imagined boundary, and provide services for that area from those funds. This, coupled with surveys about the interest of the residents could give a pretty good indication whether the new governance proposal made sense.
I was a sub consultant, and the lead had a long-planned trip overseas, right when there were some deadlines. During that 2 week period, I’d come home from my day-job, play with my small kids, and head start to work on my consultant work. I remember one evening, when I’d put in a loooong day, and the consultant had called from overseas, with urgency that something had to happen and be turned in the next morning. I was exhausted. And was angry that I was stuck pulling this together, and he was asking me to do something more. I had nothing left.
I’m definitely not likening him to Jesus or that this was a holy moment, but I can’t help but ascribe that feeling of utter exhaustion and frustration to Simon at that moment. How dare Jesus ask him to do something else? They’d spent the evening at their trade, to no avail. That alone would make one testy. But to have this Rabbi commandeer the boat, make them go out so he could teach from it? And then suggest that they should put their nets out once again? I can start to feel indignant just writing this.
But Simon does. Either out of exhaustion, resignation or sheer love, he puts his boat out and they catch so many fish that their boat is at risk of sinking. Jesus’ response to their fear is one of his oft-said, “do no be afraid”. After this, it says they left everything and followed Jesus.
This morning, I’m thinking about that moment when I can do no more. I’ve got nothing left, and I’m asked to go a little further. When my son was in Army Ranger school, he learned that when we think we have nothing left, when we’ve given 100%, we’re probably actually at about 60%. When I’m pushed beyond my perceived limit, I suspect it’s either God that helps carry me beyond my brain’s self-preserving 60% limit, or self-fulfilling aggrandizement and stubbornness. Today, I want to pause when I think I’ve done all I can, and invite God into the equation. If the issue is of God, if my response is of God, then God will help pull me on. If it is not of God but rather a self-focused drive, even invoking God in that moment may feel awkward, or wrong, or ill-conceived. Today, I want to leave that final 40% to God’s discretion, not mine.
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