Reprise

But Jesus is a master of reconnection Lenten/Easter question #19

John 21:3-5 Simon Peter said, “I’m going fishing.” “We’ll come too,” they all [six other disciples] said. So they went out in the boat, but they caught nothing all night. At dawn, Jesus was standing on the beach, but the disciples couldn’t see who he was. He called out, “Fellows, have you caught any fish?”

Luke 5:10 (Matthew 4:19, Mark 1:17) Jesus replied to Simon, “Don’t be afraid! From now on you’ll be fishing for people!”

Sudoku. That’s my “go to” when I want something familiar and comfortable. When I’ve been stretched mentally, socially, spiritually, or emotionally. What I love about sudoku, beyond the satisfaction of solving the puzzle, is the fact that there’s only one right answer. The rest of the world may present confusing, chaotic conundrums and confounding challenges. Sudoku is “safe.”

The disciples do something similar in John 21. They are comforted, of course, by knowing Jesus is alive again, but he “randomly” shows up and then disappears again. It’s not clear, though, what happens next. Without his leadership, they don’t know what to do with themselves. Peter and Jesus have not yet dealt with the elephant in the room, his three-fold denial. Beyond his grief and self-recrimination, I’m sure he feels disqualified from the leadership role Jesus had been mentoring him into.

Going fishing, a familiar throwback to the disciples’ old lives before they met Jesus, promises a time out, an activity they can do with confidence and competence. Sunshine above them sparkling on the water, the fresh breeze, the creaking and smells of the boat, the feel of the nets in their hands, the joy of working together with beloved companions, of doing something (not just waiting for Pentecost), the anticipation of roast fish … Ahhh

How often do you do something similar when you’ve been overwhelmed, stretched beyond your comfort zone?

There’s a lot more to Jesus’s simple question “Have you caught any fish?” than a request for information from someone wanting to cook fish for breakfast. John 21 is a masterfully creative reprise of Luke 5 that only an omniscient designer could have achieved. To appreciate it, re-read Luke 5:1-11. For a vivid visual, watch The Chosen’s interpretation of this so-important day in Peter’s life.

“Don’t be afraid! From now on you’ll be fishing for people!” Jesus told Simon, whom he later renamed Peter (Luke 5:10), in a lifechanging “But God” moment Peter doubtless never forgot.

Fast forward a year and a half. “Have you caught any fish?”

I see Jesus accomplishing several things with this question, beyond the disciples’ physical need for nourishment after fishing all night.

*Jesus validates their deeper calling, to be “fishers of men,” a calling they had ample reason to abandon, after they abandoned Jesus in his hour of deepest need.

*Jesus refocuses their attention, after the trauma of the crucifixion and the confoundment of his resurrection. In essence, I think he’s saying, “It’s time to get back to the real work—you know what to do.”

*With his invitation to breakfast (v. 12), Jesus tells them he still cares about them; he still treasures time with them; the rich conversations they had shared on countless such mornings, tramping around Palestine; the friendships they had all cultivated with each other.

*Jesus sets Peter up for the final questions he asks in the gospel of John, the subject of our next post, the last of our “twenty questions.”

Dark valleys

But Jesus never leaves us Lenten question from John #8 April 5, 2025

John 6:58-69 [Jesus said] “I am the true bread that came down from heaven. Anyone who eats this bread will not die as your ancestors did.” … Many of his disciples said, “This is very hard to understand. How can anyone accept it?” Jesus was aware that his disciples were complaining, so he said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what will you think if you see the Son of Man ascend to heaven again? The Spirit alone gives eternal life. Human effort accomplishes nothing. And the very words I have spoken to you are spirit and life.” … At this point many of his disciples turned away and deserted Jesus. Then Jesus turned to the Twelve and asked, “Are you also going to leave?” Simon Peter replied, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life. We believe, and we know you are the Holy One of God.”

Proverbs 3:5-8 Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. … Don’t be impressed with your own wisdom. Instead, fear the Lord and turn away from evil. Then you will have healing for your body and strength for your bones.

Many times during our daughter Karis’s thirty year history, I questioned and doubted that God knew and cared about what she was going through. It’s tough to watch your child in unrelenting pain and loss and to feel helpless to protect and provide for her and to ease her suffering.

God didn’t explain himself to me. The consistent message I received was that I was free to walk away from him. But then I wouldn’t know his Presence, his comfort, or his guidance. I would likely become angry and bitter, and miss his many, many good gifts along the way. Life would become hollow and hopeless. I would be a mess emotionally and have little to offer to my family.

Even if we walk away from the Lord in our tough times, he will never leave us Shutterstock: Mike Ver Sprill

This passage from John is theologically complex. I’m not going to get into that. What stands out to me is how easy it is to doubt God and walk away from him when something happens that we don’t understand.Have you had this experience?

I know that many people, including myself, are tempted by this kind of despair right now, as events and decrees across our country threaten the wellbeing of people we love in myriad ways. Yesterday I talked with a friend who said, “They are deliberately trying to exterminate people like me.” She has solid justification for this deep fear. If Karis were still alive, I would have the same fear for her life.

What do we do with this kind of distress? “Bandaid” answers don’t help, like “Don’t worry; everything will be OK” or “Just trust God—obviously you’re anxious because you don’t have enough faith.” All they do is show the one in distress you want out—you don’t want to feel what she feels. These responses make the one in fear feel more isolated and alone than they already were.

How can we respond? First, listen deeply to our own hearts and to others. Then, acknowledge our distress to God. Tell him exactly how we feel and why. Entrust our fears to the Lord. Ask him to take our burden of fear and anxiety, as he has already done on the cross. Open our hearts to receive his peace, peace that doesn’t depend on understanding our circumstances, but rather, on trusting him and his love for us. And do this again, every time fear and anxiety stir in us once more. Several times a day if needed.

The things we fear can actually happen. Our faith does not make us immune. Jesus assures us that we will not walk through tough times alone. He has promised to walk with us, to bear our burdens, to NEVER leave or forsake us. That’s what we depend on. We may not understand what we’re going through. But our Lord does understand us and how much we need his presence with us, his encouragement and his strength.

We are not alone. Even in dark valleys where nothing seems to make sense.

Healing at the Lake, Part 1 of 2, by Karen Johnson, Hershey, PA

But God … Where are you?

Psalm 42:1-2 As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God. I thirst for God, the living God. When can I go and stand before him? Day and night I have only tears for my food, while my enemies continually taunt me, saying, “Where is this God of yours?”

I invite you to join me at the end of a dock on a bright, sunny day. The sun is dancing off the lake, and the air is just hot enough to make the cool water inviting. I turn around and, with total abandon, fling out my arms and fall backward into the lake. The water welcomes and envelopes me, filling me with a thrill of excitement. I dive deep, then swim back up to break the surface. The sun is bright in my eyes and warm on my face, even as my body in the water shivers with delight.

I look back and see Jesus running down the dock. With a whoop of joy, he dives into the lake. He comes up next to me with a big grin as He flicks the hair out of his eyes. We laugh and swim and frolic in the water. I am aware of a smoggy, oppressive tinge to the air, even on this sunny day. While it weighs on me, I ignore it for now and focus on the warm sun and the joy and freedom I feel as I glide through the water, a cheerful companion at my side. My gangly pre-teen body feels strong and graceful.

But as I break through the surface and flip over to float on my back, I sense a chill in the air. The smog has thickened into a black fog that snakes over the dock from the land. Suddenly, I am standing on the dock, wrapped in a towel but shivering and cold. My hair hangs in wet hanks and drips down my back. I am enveloped by the dank, dark fog.

I slowly trudge up the dock towards the house. As I start up the grassy slope, my attention is caught by a stream I never knew was there at the far edge of the lawn. Curious, I investigate. A brook tumbles down the hillside towards the lake. I love water in its many forms, but I am strangely devoid of emotion as I see this cheerful little stream bubbling over the rocks. I turn back and plod towards the house.

As I near the door, the fog thickens and is like a swarm of bees coming at me, piercing and smothering me. I know I’m in trouble. I suddenly find myself inside, sitting at the table, being berated for staying outside too long. The harangue goes on and on and on and on as I am told how selfish and inconsiderate and rebellious I am. How dare I enjoy the sun and the water when we need to pack up and get ready to leave? Who do I think I am to leave the work to everyone else?

I sit there, shivering and cold and alone, absorbing into myself every word that is said. My dad is there, but he doesn’t defend me and seems powerless to make the onslaught stop.

When the tirade winds down, I am instructed to go to the kitchen to make sandwiches for the trip. I love to help, but instead of delight at contributing to a team effort, I stand at the counter, bread slices spread out in front of me, mixing a batch of tuna salad, hating myself. Sobs quietly rack my body and I want to hurt myself to get rid of this horrible guilt and shame and anger.

At the same time, I am aware that this entire scenario was totally unnecessary. I was given permission to go out and play. I was a child, out on the water, with no way of telling the time. All that was required was for the adult to pay attention to the time and what needed to be done and cheerfully call me in when it was time to get ready to go. I would have reluctantly left the water but happily come inside to help. I love to help!

Another thread weaves through my thoughts and weighs down my heart: sadness for the pain that consumes those I love. Pain that would cause a mother to so berate her sweet daughter and cause a father to look on so helplessly. Is God powerless to do anything for any of us?

Under this cloud, we drive away from the weekend at the lake. God, where are you? Why is there no connection between the delight on the water and life in the house and in the car as we drive away? Where is the peace and joy your Spirit is supposed to give us? Why can’t I find you? Why is the girl who frolicked in the water such a miserable failure yet again?

“Idk if I can do this anymore 😞”

But God bends down to listen

Psalm 116:1 I love the Lord because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy. Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!

Isaiah 40:29-31 The Lord never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless. Even youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion. But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.

Opening my computer this morning, the top post on our neighborhood website is “Life is really getting to me… idk if I can do this anymore😞.” So far, 162 people have commented.

Is that you, too? Omicron and all its permutations and impact + the complications and darkness of winter + too many deaths to grieve properly + political slander, misinformation, etc. + fill in the blank for your own life.

One thing I am writing in that blank is my disappointment about canceling, due to Covid, our Feb. 7-14 trip to Bolivia to attend the wedding of a dear friend and spend time with many others. Our anticipated ten-day break from Pittsburgh winter will now be only three days, as we still plan to travel to Houston for my brother’s wedding Feb. 6.

When I woke up this morning and saw snowflakes drifting down, my first thought was how beautiful they were. My second thought was how treacherous, for elderly people and those with physical disabilities. Several peoples’ names came to my mind. How often Karis slipped and fell in snow and ice, despite my best efforts to keep her safe!

Lord, keep your beloved ones safe today, physically, emotionally, relationally, spiritually. THANK YOU that you care. That you bend down to listen to our sorrows and distress and fears. That you understand. That you renew our strength.

Psalm 116 says in verses 10 and 11, I believed in you, SO I said, “I am deeply troubled, Lord.” In my anxiety I cried out to you. The Lord invites us to come to him, to pour out our troubles, our worries, our disappointments, our frustrations. Hold them all out to the Lord.

And then be still, and receive from him comfort, direction, and renewed strength.

Wonderful, Merciful Savior