It's Not Too Late

 

It’s Not Too Late

It's Not Too Late - Audio/Visual 

“Now go out where it is deeper and let down your nets to catch some fish.” “Master,” Simon replied, “we worked hard all last night and didn’t catch a thing. But if you say so, I’ll let the nets down again.” (Luke 5:4-5)

Have you ever seen that look that says, "It's too late"? Probably. You know – the eyes rolling, head shaking, lips pursed look? Maybe it’s your father and brother who don't speak to each other. Haven't for years. "Won't you try again?" you ask your dad. He looks away, takes a deep breath and then just sighs. Or, maybe five years this side of retirement the economy Titanic’s your wife’s retirement. You try to make the best of it, so you say, "You can go back to school, honey. Learn a new skill." But you might as well have told her to swim to Africa. She shakes her head and says, "I'm too old . . . It's too late." Too late to reconcile. Too late for a new career. Too late to catch any fish. Or so Peter thought.

He’d been fishing all night. He’d seen the sun set and then the sun rise and has absolutely nothing to show for his efforts. While other fishermen are cleaning their catch, he’s cleaning his nets. But now Jesus wants him to try again. "One day as Jesus was preaching on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, great crowds pressed in on him to listen to the word of God." (Luke 5:1) As more people arrived, more people pressed in and with every press, Jesus took a step back. Soon he was stepping off the sand and into the water. Seeing two boats lying at the edge of the lake, Jesus got into one of the boats, which was Simon Peter's, and asked him to put out a little way from the land. From that vantage point, Jesus then sat down in the boat and began teaching the people who’d lined the shore.

"When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Now go out where it is deeper, and let down your nets to catch some fish.’” (Vv. 2-4) Jesus needs a boat; Peter provides one. Jesus preaches; Peter’s content to listen. Jesus suggests a midmorning fishing trip, and Peter just gives him a look. The “it's-too-late” look. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs, "’Master, we worked hard all last night and didn’t catch a thing." (v. 5) Can you feel a sense of futility in Peter's words? All night the boat’s been floating, fishless, on the lake. Lanterns from distant vessels bounced like fireflies. Men swung their nets and filled the air with the percussion of their trade: swish, slap . . . silence. Swish, slap . . . silence. Midnight. Maybe another boat had found a school. Peter considered moving but decided against it. Swish, slap . . . silence. Every yank of the net was easy. Too easy. The nets were empty.

Most mornings the sunrise inspired the men. Today it only tired them. They didn't want to see it. Who wants to dock an empty boat? Who wants to tie up and clean up, knowing the first question their wives will ask is “So, how’d you do?” And, most of all, who wants to hear a well-rested carpenter-turned-rabbi say, "Go out where it’s deeper, and let down your nets to catch some fish"? (v. 4) Peter’s probably thinking, “I'm tired. Bone tired. I want a meal and a bed, not a fishing trip. Like I’m some sort of tour guide or something? Besides, half of Galilee is watching. I feel like a loser already. Now he wants to put on a mid-morning fishing exhibition? Everyone knows you can't catch fish late in the morning. Count me out.” Whatever thoughts Peter had were distilled into one phrase: "We worked hard all last night and didn’t catch a thing." (v. 5)

Do you have any worn-out, wet, empty nets? Do you know the feeling of a sleepless, fishless night? Maybe. For instance, what have you been casting out there lately? Sobriety? "I've worked so hard to stay sober, but . . . ." Or, solvency? "My debt is an anvil around my neck . . . ." Maybe faith? "I want to believe, but . . . ." How about healing? "I've been sick so long . . . ." Perhaps a happy marriage? "No matter what I do . . . ." In other words, you’ve worked hard all night and didn’t catch a thing. You've felt what Peter felt. You've sat where Peter sat. And now Jesus is asking you to go fishing. Really?

He knows your nets are empty. He knows your heart is weary. He knows you'd like nothing more than to turn your back on the mess and call it a life. But he urges, "It's not too late to try again." See if Peter's reply won't help you formulate your own. "But if you say so, I’ll let the nets down again." (Luke 5:5) Not much passion in those words. You’d expect a 100-watt smile and some fist pumping – “I’ve got Jesus in the boat; so, Baby, fire up the grill!" But Peter shows no excitement. He feels none. Now he has to unfold the nets, pull out the oars and convince James and John to postpone their nap. He has to work.

If faith is measured in seeds, Peter’s is an angstrom – faith the size of a molecule. Inspired? Hardly. But obedient? Remarkably. And a molecule of obedience is all Jesus wanted. "Go out where it’s deeper," Jesus instructs. (V. 4) Why the deep water? Do you think Jesus knew something Peter didn't? Or do you suppose Jesus is doing with Peter what parents do with their kids on an Easter Sunday?

During a typical Easter egg hunt, the kids find most of the eggs on their own. But a couple of treasures inevitably survive the first pass. "Look behind the tree," we whisper in the ears of our kids. A quick search around the trunk, and . . . what do you know? Dad was right. And that’s because spotting treasures is easy for the one who hid them. So, it should come as no surprise that finding fish is simple for the God who made them. To Jesus, the Sea of Galilee is a dollar-store fishbowl on the kitchen counter. Peter gives the net a swish, lets it slap and watches it disappear. Luke doesn't tell us what Peter did while waiting for the net to sink, but I think that Peter, maybe holding the net, may have looked over his shoulder at Jesus as if to say, “Really?” And maybe Jesus, knowing Peter is about to be nearly yanked into the water, just smiles. “Really.” You know, one of those Mommy-daughter Easter-egg smiles.

“This time their nets were so full of fish they began to tear! A shout for help brought their partners in the other boat, and soon both boats were filled with fish, on the verge of sinking.” (Vv. 6-7) Peter's arm is yanked into the water. It's all he can do to hang on until the other guys can help. Within moments the four fishermen and the carpenter are up to their knees in flopping silver. Amazed at the sight, Peter lifts his eyes off the catch and onto the face of Christ. And in that moment, for the first time, he sees Jesus. Not Jesus the Fish Finder, or Jesus the Multitude Magnet, or Jesus the Rabbi, but Jesus the Lord. And with that realization, Peter falls face-first among the fish. Their stink doesn't bother him. It’s his stink that he's worried about. “Oh, Lord, please leave me — I’m too much of a sinner to be around you.” (v. 8) Of course, Christ had no intention of honoring his request because Jesus doesn't abandon self-confessed schlemiels. To the contrary, he recruits them: "Don’t be afraid! From now on you’ll be fishing for people!” (v. 10)

 Contrary to what you may have been told, Jesus doesn't limit his recruiting to stout-hearted saints and seminarians. The beat-up and worn-out are prime prospects in his book, and he's been known to climb into boats, bars and brothels to tell them, "It's not too late to start over." Peter had learned the lesson. But wouldn't you know it? Peter then forgot the lesson.

Two short years later this man who confessed Christ in the boat cursed Christ at a fire. The night before Jesus' crucifixion, Peter told people that he'd never heard of Jesus before. He couldn't have made a more tragic mistake. And he knew it. The burly fisherman buried his bearded face in thick hands and spent Friday night in tears. All the feelings of that Galilean morning came back to him. “It's too late.” But then Sunday came. Jesus came. Peter saw him. And although Peter was convinced that Christ had come back from the dead, he wasn't convinced that Christ had come back for him.

So, he went back to the boat – to the same boat, the same beach and the same sea. He came out of retirement. He and his buddies washed the barnacles off the hull, unpacked the nets and pushed out. They fished all night and, like before, they caught nothing. Poor Peter. He blew it as a disciple. Now he's blowing it as a fisherman. And about the time he wonders if it's too late to take up carpentry, the sky turns orange, and they hear a voice from the coastline: "Had any luck?" “No,” they yell back. "Try the right side of the boat!" With nothing to lose and nothing left of their pride to protect, they give it a go. "So, they cast, and then they were not able to haul it in because of the great number of fish." (John 21:6)

Like the late, great Yogi Berra said, it’s Déjà vu all over again. And when it finally hits Peter, he cannonballs into the water and swims as fast as he can to see the one who loved him enough to recreate a miracle. And this time the message stuck. Peter never again fished for fish. He spent the rest of his days telling anyone who would listen, "It's not too late to try again."

Is it too late for you? Before you answer, before you fold up the nets and head for the dock – two questions. Have you given Christ your boat? You know. Your heartache? Your dead-end dilemma? Your struggle? Have you really turned it over to him? And have you gone deep? Have you bypassed the surface-water solutions you can see in search of the deep-channel provisions God can give? If not, try the other side of the boat. Go deeper than you've gone before. You may find what Peter found.

The payload of Peter’s second effort was not the fish he caught, but the God he saw. The God-man who spots weary fishermen, who cares enough to enter their boats, who will turn his back on the adoration of a crowd to solve the frustration of a friend. The Savior who whispers a word to the owners of empty nets: "Let's try again – this time with me on board."

Grace,

Randy