THE FISHERMEN
One day as Jesus was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret,
with the people crowding around him and listening to the word of God, he saw
at the water's edge two boats, left there by the fishermen, who were washing
their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and
asked him to put out a little from shore. Then he sat down and taught the
people from the boat.
When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into deep water,
and let down the nets for a catch."
Simon answered, "Master, we've worked hard all night and haven't caught
anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets." Luke 5:1-5
The first Memory of Gennesaret is appropriately
connected with a fishing scene in its inland sea. It must have been now
about the end of November or beginning of December, when the sultry heat of
summer had disappeared; when the trees were either bared of their leaves, or
seared with autumnal tints, and the voice of the turtle-dove was silent. Our
Blessed Lord had recently returned to His native Galilee, after a summer
absence in Judea; and several eventful months were now to be spent on the
shores of the lake, before the next Passover, in March or April, summoned
Him again to the capital.
As He was now walking alone along the white sand that
fringed the beach, we may suppose it to have been at that morning hour when
nature was waking up again to life and energy; the usual traffic had been
resumed in the little seaport of Capernaum, and the fishermen, who had been
out the livelong night, were returning to the nearest landing-point with
their spoil. Four of these seafarers, Andrew, Peter, John, and James, had
reached the shore. They had been unsuccessful in their labors; weary and
jaded, they were in the act of washing their nets before retiring to their
hamlets for refreshment and rest.
But One who, as we shall presently see, was no stranger
to them, had been noting their unrecompensed toil. There was a deep meaning
and reason, which they knew not at the time, for the dispiriting results of
their midnight industry, but which was, before long, to be made manifest.
Meanwhile, however, Simon is approached by a voice whose music he was often
in future to hear. His Lord "as one that serves" begs from the lowly
fisherman the accommodation of his boat, that He might make it a platform
from which to address His first Gennesaret auditory—a throng of ardent
followers who had gathered on the sea-beach, eager to listen to His
teachings.
We may realize the scene. The Lake, so often fretted with
storms, exposed to sudden gusts coming sweeping down the ravines of the
mountains, was now hushed into a dead calm. Tree and rock, fishing-hamlet
and villa, were mirrored in its quiet waters. Hushed, too, was the dense
mixed multitude that crowded on the shore; while the great object of their
eager curiosity—Jesus of Nazareth—sat in meek majesty
in Peter's fishing-boat, about to speak the words of eternal life!
Dare we picture to ourselves the expression of that
godlike countenance? Accustomed as we are to think of Him as the ideal of
human excellence, and in outward form as well as inward loveliness, "fairer
than the children of men," we may venture to realize some feeble image of
that portraiture, while yet the happy memories of peaceful Nazareth were
hovering around Him, and before a woe-worn path had furrowed the brow of the
Man of Sorrows with the lineaments of predicted sadness.
It was the sunny morning of a dark and troubled life-day.
The Sun of Righteousness, as He arose on this valley and shadow of death,
had no spot, no murky cloud foreboding the darkness that was to shroud His
setting. He was "as a bridegroom coming forth out of his chamber, and
rejoicing like a strong man to run his race." With grace poured into His
lips, this "Chief among ten thousand"—this "altogether Lovely one"—proceeds
to unfold the great revelation for which, during four thousand years, the
world had waited in anxious expectation. It was a momentous day in the
history of the Church. It was the inauguration of the first noble band of
missionaries—an ordination scene and ordination sermon—the setting apart of
under-shepherds by the Great Shepherd, to "feed the flock of God" which He
was about to "purchase with His own blood."
We cannot pronounce when and where the first introduction
took place between Jesus and these future teachers of the world. May He not
possibly, in the days of His youth, when living in mysterious seclusion in
the not far-distant Nazareth, have stood on the shores of Gennesaret, and,
as the young fishermen of Bethsaida were helping their fathers to adjust
their nets, may they not have unconsciously beheld in the stranger, their
future Master and Lord? We can form, with greater certainty, such a
conjecture at a later period; we have in one passage an indirect intimation
that Capernaum formed a rendezvous for the caravan in north Galilee, in
going up to Jerusalem to observe the paschal feast (John 2:12). If so, might
not these youths, who were afterwards to be linked in so holy a relation,
love to group and pitch their tents together in that sacred pilgrimage?
Might they not travel onwards singing their psalms, under the clear light of
moon and stars, in their nightly journey—the Galilean fishermen little
dreaming that some of those very songs they chanted were to the praise of
the wondrous Being who, in human form, walked at their side?
But be this as it may, we know, at all events, that not
many months before the events here recorded, they had met Him on the banks
of the Jordan, probably after the celebration of the Passover, when, on
returning to their native lake, they paused to listen to the Baptist's
stirring words. The Great Messiah, of whom he bore witness, was then pointed
out to them. They hailed Jesus of Nazareth as their Lord and Master, and
cast in their lot with Him as disciples. Whether they met during the brief
intervening period we cannot tell. But we may surely well believe that often
would these four fishermen spend their lonely midnight hours on the lake, by
discoursing of Him whom His great Forerunner had so recently pointed out to
them as "the Lamb of God."
Could Peter forget the penetrating omniscience
which had even then scanned his own character, and anticipated the lights
and shadows in his ardent temperament (John 1:42)? Could Andrew and
John forget the hallowed evening converse, when, at His own gracious
invitation, He welcomed them to His temporary abode, and from four o'clock
till the night shadows closed around them, caused their hearts to burn
within them? Moreover, if they had never personally met since, their
confidence in His power and in the divinity of His mission must have been
strengthened and confirmed by the miracle recently performed on the
nobleman's son at Capernaum, all the more impressive that it was by the
power of a distant word at Cana, that the dying youth had been raised to
life. It must have been, at all events, now with a joyful surprise, while
washing their nets, that His longed-for voice was heard. How would the lost
labor of that midnight be forgotten, and the thought of fatigue banished,
when they beheld Him once more standing on the shore ready to unfold to them
and to the multitudes the mysteries of His kingdom! With what delight would
they gather around to listen to the gracious words which proceeded out of
His mouth!
Let us pause at this point in the sacred story, and
gather a few PRACTICAL LESSONS.
I. Observe here, how God honors worldly industry, and
hallows His own appointed heritage of toil.
These fishermen, though enrolled among the disciples of
Jesus, did not on that account forsake their honest callings, as if
discipleship and daily work were incongruous. No; with all the hallowed
recollections of that day at Bethany and the Jordan, no sooner did they
reach Bethsaida, than, clothed in their rough cloaks, they were out night
after night on the sea, patiently waiting subsequent communications of their
Lord's will. And now, when He meets them again, when that loving Voice is
once more heard, how are they engaged? Still at their work—their hands
ministering to their necessities—standing knee-deep in the water, in the
shadow of their fishing-boats, "washing their nets." What does all this tell
us, but that Christ honors and consecrates daily industry. He would
here, as elsewhere, proclaim the beautiful harmony between the most
laborious ardor in our several earthly employments, and religious
earnestness; that the world's dullest tasks and most drudging toil can be
baptized and hallowed with the new-born spiritual element; and that while
men may be "not slothful in business, they may be fervent in spirit, serving
the Lord."
II. We learn that Jesus gradually prepares His people
for service and trial.
As in mental training, so in spiritual, there is an
education—a gradual progressive discipline. They are brought to their
exalted attainments in grace—the consecrated heights of His kingdom—not by
some sudden or miraculous elevation, but step by step. It is "first the
blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear." The
fishermen of Bethsaida may have received, as we have already conjectured,
the first hallowed impressions from casual meetings with the young Nazareth
Pilgrim in their journeys to the city of solemnities; or the earliest seed
of the kingdom might have been more recently planted by the teachings of the
Baptist. This had been still further nurtured by a solemn personal interview
with their Lord. Months had elapsed, to allow all these to take root. They
had been left to themselves during this intervening period to a secret work
of faith and prayer. And now, when love has been deepened, and faith
strengthened, He demands loftier services; imposes heavier responsibilities.
The Disciples are to become Apostles. The nets and boats of
Galilee are to be left for the mightiest ministry ever entrusted to human
hands.
There may be exceptions, and there are
exceptions to this great rule. A persecutor may be struck down, and
in a moment transformed into an apostle. A felon may be arrested by
grace amid the agonies of crucifixion, and in the twinkling of an eye be
translated from a criminal's death to a believer's crown. But God's
processes in the spiritual economy are, generally speaking, gradual
and progressive. The temple rises stone by stone. Nicodemus-like, we
have to grope our way to higher spiritual manifestations, to higher faith,
higher duties, higher grace. Were it otherwise, it would contradict the
Divine method of working. It would unteach the oft-recorded lesson in that
mighty volume of parables, where growth is never sudden; but slow,
silent, almost imperceptible: the sapling hardening into the oak
before it can wrestle with the storm; the child creeping before it
can walk, spelling its way upwards through successive stages of mental
progress.
God Himself more than once, indeed, employs this very
same image regarding His people. He acts a parent's part in guiding the
tottering steps of feeble spiritual infancy, "dandling them on His knees,"
comforting them as one whom his mother comforts," "bearing them on His
shoulders, as a man bears his own son that serves him," "leading them about,
instructing them, keeping them as the apple of His eye;" until at length,
strong in the manhood of vigorous faith, they "mount upon eagle's wings."
III. Learn in our seasons of trial and despondency
never to despair.
Peter had been toiling all night, and nothing had been
caught. But his Lord gives the word, "Launch forth into the deep, and let
down your nets for a catch." Peter replies by telling of their lack of
success—that "all night" (the best and most likely time for catching fish)
they had labored in vain; but, addressing Jesus as "Master" (evidently
showing the relation in which he already stood to Him), he adds in simple
faith and submission to a will he had been taught to love, "Nevertheless, at
Your word I will let down the net." The result was the enclosure of such "a
multitude of fishes that the net broke."
Ah! when was the soul ever disappointed which followed
the Lord fully? How often, in our night-seasons of despondency and trial,
are we prone, in our short-sighted folly, to exclaim, "All these things are
against me?" How often do we feel, in spiritual experience, as if all effort
in Christian attainment were worse than hopeless? The heavens have become as
brass, and the earth as iron; our prayers are unavailing; ordinances are
unblest; sanctuary wells are without water; our sun is wading amid clouds;
the net of faith is let down amid the promises of God; but unable to
appropriate them, we are ready to say amid this long night of spiritual
toil, "Surely my Lord has forsaken me, and my God has forgotten me."No! no!
pray on—labor on—trust on—"They who wait on the Lord shall renew their
strength!"
Resolve, with Peter, "Nevertheless, at Your
word, Blessed Savior! I will launch forth once more. I will let down my net
into this dark, deep, unfathomable sea. Though You slay me yet will I trust
in You. In ourselves, Lord, we are helpless, hopeless, weak, perishing; but
at Your word we proceed; Lord, what would You have us to do? Our
wills we would resolve into Yours—Your will is always the best. We shall not
arraign the appointments of Your unerring rectitude. Even though at times we
are led to adopt the words of the prophet—'I have labored in vain; I have
spent my strength for nothing and in vain;' with him can we add, 'Yet surely
my judgment is with the Lord, and my work with my God.' Even if carrying a
cross be required, fresh launching forth into the deeps and midnights of
trial, we shall let down our nets, assured in the end of a glorious
recompense."
For have we not His own recorded promise?—"Let us
acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the
sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like
the spring rains that water the earth." Hosea 6:3. Let us seek to value more
and more that precious promise.
The multitudes on Gennesaret's shore, and the
disciple in the boat, who with fond eagerness listened, and with joyful
alacrity obeyed, read to us solemn lessons. Of the one it is said, "They
pressed on Him to hear the word of God;" of the other, that, triumphing over
carnal doubts and reasonings, he exclaimed, "Nevertheless, at Your word."
Oh, what a blessed formula for us! "This path of
mine is dark, mysterious, perplexing; nevertheless, at Your
word I will go forward. This trial of mine is cutting, painful for
flesh and blood to bear. It is hard to breathe through a broken heart—"may
Your will be done." But, nevertheless, at Your word I will say, "Even
so, Father!" This besetting habit or infirmity, or sin of mine, is
difficult to crucify. It has become part of myself—a second nature; to be
severed from it would be like the cutting off of a right hand, or the
plucking out of a right eye. Nevertheless, at Your word, I will lay
aside every weight; this idol I will utterly abolish! This righteousness
of mine, it is hard to renounce; all these virtues, and amiabilities, and
natural graces, it is hard to believe that they cannot in any way be mixed
up in the matter of my salvation; and that I am to receive all from
first to last, as the gift of God, through Jesus Christ my Lord.
"Nevertheless, at Your word, I will count all but loss for the
excellency of His knowledge."
Reader! let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly! Let
it be your counselor; the ultimate court of appeal in every perplexity. If
your own proud reason, or self-will, or corrupted nature and blinded
conscience, should dictate an opposing line of procedure, let this lofty
determination settle and silence all doubt, "Nevertheless, at Your word."
Sit as a meek disciple under this infallible Teacher. Silence the
temptations of the great Adversary as your Lord silenced them before you, by
the rebuke, "Get behind Me, Satan—It is written." And when the Sabbath comes
around, be it yours, like the crowd on Gennesaret's shores, to go to the
sanctuary eagerly thirsting for the Word of eternal life—not the words
of frail mortals, worms of the dust; but, despising all the excellency of
man's wisdom, seeking only to have declared to you the whole counsel of God.
Be earnest in prayer, that He may send forth His light and His truth to lead
you and guide you. Then shall a Savior God be invisibly present by His
Spirit, to bless and lighten, to gladden and refresh your souls; and the
Beatitude, intended for all time and for every age of the Church, will be
made good in your experience: "Blessed are the people who know the joyful
sound. They shall walk, O Lord, in the light of Your countenance!"