Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We are going with you also.” They went out and immediately got into the boat, and that night they caught nothing.
John 21:3
“I have given my best since I was called to the ministry. I have embraced and clutched the cross of the Lord with passion and sincere dedication, honored and amazed at the work he had done in my life, gathering me from among the discards of society, bringing me to his table of love and clothed me in forgiveness. Being taken in and cared for by a spiritual family is a good of inestimable value. But between being cared for and caring for others there is a gulf. Over the years of my service several times I have gone up and down between the waves of great joy and the high waves of great discouragement. His hand, however, has been strong and reassuring, allowing that flame burning deep within to feed and give me the energy I needed to go out to meet those in need, to devote the better part of the day to encouraging, consoling indiscriminately in homes, hospitals and/or cemeteries.
The greatest commitment, however, was to be His voice. Nothing could be more uplifting than sounding out Scripture, studying it, meditating on it while on my knees I begged the Spirit each time to inspire me to teach, to coach, to preach with loving authority. Getting into the pulpit forced me to strip myself before the Lord, the fear of His holiness always prevailed over my thoughts as a man, husband, father. The shining eyes and handshakes of believers at the end of a worship the only satisfying gratification. Never would I have wanted to betray in any measure those I served. When everything seemingly granted me a prominent dimension, leading a large church, involved in several organizations, part of an esteemed ministerial team of depth, horizons began to narrow. Sitting at a table where choices rather than being agreed upon were accepted almost passively, rather than animating projects I was noting critical points without finding feedback. The gaze went downward. An ache crept in, and gradually I felt more and more inadequate, unable to discern any reason to continue. The cracks were widening beneath me, between me and the other servants, between me and the community.
Like Peter, slowly that desire, more a need, to go fishing again was making its way in. A struggle set in, a torment assailed me as my hands gripped the plow that grew heavier as the days passed. I stood still, unable to make progress. Locked up in my room I shed tears begging God to give me solution, while those who worked in the same field as me did not notice my drama. Those who should have dragged or pushed me, or just kept me company and offered me their silence, were caught up in other things. No accusations against him. That inability, however, added disappointment, frightening me of what I similarly could bring to others. How long did it last? Well, some time. Between crying in prayer and sleepless nights I had to make a decision to get out alive. To continue pretending, rendering a service made up of duties, commitments to be fulfilled, norms to be observed or to break the patterns that were caging me and provoke a reaction. Maybe even the Lord will remember me and come looking for me on the shore of the lake. I hope so with all my heart, for I still have it in my heart to be his witness, but in the meantime I resign as pastor without any second thoughts.”
So a few days ago a dear friend poured out on me the river I was crossing him, making me a participant in his travail, familiar to anyone who has put his hand to the plow and placed the Master's cross on his shoulders. As he recounted his feeling lacking in the task he had received, I felt the privilege of gathering his confession. Broken, I reached out and clasped him in a brotherly embrace filled with respect. It takes so much courage to pull out before you end up crushed by the weight of responsibility, it takes so much courage to say to the community, “I fail to love and serve you as I would and should.” And those who have drunk from the cup know how much pain and bitterness must be swallowed, which is why they will pass no judgment. Like Timothy we strive to endure suffering like a good soldier, but not everyone has a Paul to encourage them.
In the moments after Jesus' death, the disciple Peter had his own inner battles that brought him back to where he felt confident, on top of a boat casting his net into the water. Right there where he had been picked up and called to be a fisher of men. He who had begun a work in him did not leave him for long suspended between dry land and rocking waters. That “pasture” repeated again and again is full of the understanding and closeness that so many so greatly need. To my friend I offered my time, I promised that my esteem for him remains unchanged. I pray that Pentecost will soon come to ignite his life and give him the courageous joy of being an instrument in the hands of the Potter. For those who have known the same condition and are gritting their teeth in their toil, I hope my next book will help.
Weekly Bible Reading Plan #05
January 27, Exodus 16-18; Matthew 18:1-20
January 28, Exodus 19-20; Matthew 18:21-35
January 29, Exodus 21-22; Matthew 19
January 30, Exodus 23-24; Matthew 20:1-16
January 31, Exodus 25-26; Matthew 20:17-34
February 01, Exodus 27-28; Matthew 21:1-22
February 02, Exodus 29-30; Matthew 21:23-46
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