Hook, Line and Sinker

Luke 5:1-11

As Simon Peter and others followed Jesus that day, we too will follow Jesus using three words we'll talk about today: hook, line and sinker.

First, to understand this text more fully, let's understand that at the time when Jesus preached in the boats we just read about, fisherman used nets, not hooks, to catch their livelihood. Now these nets were often bell-shaped with lead weights around the edges. The wide net would be thrown flat into the water, and the lead weights would cause it to sink around the fish. The fisherman would then pull on a cord, drawing the net around the fish. Nets had to be kept in good condition, so they would be washed to remove weeds and mended as necessary. That is why, in verse two of our reading, we discover that the empty boats there along the shoreline had been left by fishermen who were washing and inspecting their nets.

Nets are still used today to catch fish, yet with the lakes and streams around Susquehanna County, I imagine most of us would prefer to use a hook on the end of a long reel when fishing. And we know what a hook can do.

Simon was hooked. He had been in the boat when Jesus preached. Now we don't know what Jesus said to the throngs of people along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, but whatever was shared by our Savior was so convincing that Simon, who would eventually be known as Peter, was hooked.

Realizing so many fish had been caught because he went out with his net a little deeper, he was awestruck. His first response to this miracle was to realize his own insignificance in comparison to this man—Jesus'—greatness. Peter knew that Jesus had healed the sick and driven out demons, but he was amazed that Jesus, the all mighty and magnificent Jesus, cared about his day-to-day routine. Jesus not only cared about Peter's day-to-day routine, he also understood his needs.

God, through Jesus, understands our needs too. And in talking about our first of three points of being hooked as Peter was hooked on Jesus, I'm wondering how many of us here today get it that on the most personal level Jesus cares about our day-to-day rituals. I'm wondering how many of us here today appreciate that, on the most personal level, Jesus is interested in our particular and everyday commonplace activities, activities or chores we do without noticing or paying attention to the subtle details ourselves. I'm wondering how many of us relate to Jesus here not as the one who walks on water as much as he's the one with us in our boat during those times when up a creek and do or do not have our own paddle.

Today's story isn't about the Super Hero Jesus who would make one great fish finding professional on the fishing channel. Today's story isn't about those wonderful, miraculous things Jesus can do like heal the sick and drive out demons. Today's story isn't about Jesus the phenomenal preacher—remember, we don't even know what he said —no, what was said to the crowds was not the point our author Luke would like us to take home. Instead, today's story is about how Jesus is with us in the details. Today's story is about how Jesus is with us in the small stuff. This passage is about how Jesus is with us in our everyday, typical, I'm making a bologna and cheese sandwich for lunch days. And he's not only with us, he cares.

And like Peter, Jesus wants us hooked. Let his care hook you. Let his care for you hook you so strongly and so surely that you know you're going to be all right. Let his care for you hook you so strongly and so surely that those worries you have are over.  Let his care for you hook you so strongly and so surely that the tiff you're having with someone you love is over.  Let his care for you hook you so strongly and so surely that your concerns about money are over, and they are over because he has you. Let his care for you hook you so strongly and so surely that you give this church and its future over to him.  Today (and this is for all of us), give in to what is true: let his care for you hook you so strongly and so surely that you become who you've always wanted to be, and that's one in love with Christ—one in love with Christ like you know is possible—one in love with Christ like you've never been in love before. Get hooked.

We still tend to think in the big picture. We still tend to think of Christ in the big picture. We still tend to hold images of Jesus coming to us as some sky-opening, heaven-come-down, burning bush moment. We still tend to think of Christ and as thundering right hand of God, the only begotten son of the Almighty One.

But that's not how this works here in this passage. Ask this. How often do we afford ourselves the time to think of Jesus laughing? How often do we allow ourselves time relate to and rely on Jesus who enjoyed the smile of a child? How often do we allow ourselves time relate to and rely on Jesus who walks beside us? How often do we allow ourselves time relate to and rely on Jesus who feels our tears and frustration? As he came as a baby born in a lowly place, he sits beside us in our own boats, when they quietly drift, tether to trouble, or serious rock.

As we've seen with Peter, Jesus cares about the things you care about.  He not only cares, he is also with you in those everyday things. Let that—and that alone—hook you.

 That's our first point. Now the second is this bit about a line. And we hand Jesus lines, or excuses, all the time. And we justify our lines or excuses so well that we fool ourselves into thinking we've either one, outfoxed Jesus, or two, we've outfoxed our church neighbors and friends.

First, honestly? Outfoxing Jesus? You think you can really get away with that? You know deep down and when you're honest with yourself, that you're only fooling yourself. We all say something like Jesus gets my all—and we look good when we say it—but Jesus doesn't get our all.

And second, the line we hand our church neighbors and friends in the pews around us—the line that worship is all right now and again—the line that I don't need to go all the time—the line that the last time I was in church was okay so I can skip for awhile. Here are more lines. My kids get bored—spirituality is for new-age wackos—why does it have to take so long—come on, it cuts out half my day—what, me, a Jesus freak? These are all lines. These are all excuses.

Yes, we think on some level that we can ignore or block out Jesus. We think that there's always another day for Him. We think there's always another time when I can 'ommmmmm...' be one with the Great God.

What is your line? What is your excuse? What do you pull out of your hat when you think of Lisa or Scott's adult Sunday school classes and don't go? What's your line when you think that God being a part of my life really just means that God's a part of someone else's life? What's your excuse for being distant, not devoted?

I'm not laying on a guilt trip. I'm not putting down something that's heavy or insulting. I am not putting you or anyone else down. Instead, I'm being honest. I'm being as honest with you here at the pulpit as you are in your lives at home, at work, or at school. The connection you have with the Jesus who cares about you can be made stronger, and it's simply as easy as our third and final point this morning: the sinker.

Return to that boat we all read about a few minutes ago. In it we have Jesus and we have Peter. And Peter does something very human and very real. Peter does something we've all done, at least in part. It's in verse eight. The New Living Translation Bible depicts this powerfully human scene just a little differently then what's printed in your bulletin. It's this. When Simon Peter realized what had happened, he fell to his knees before Jesus and said, "Oh, Lord, please leave me—I'm not much of a sinner to be around you."

We all know someone who has said those very words Peter shared. We all know someone who has said in word or in action that I am not worthy to be around you, Lord, so please go. Stay out of my life. I'm too much of a sinner to be a part of who you are.  

The sinker this morning is that we should all get so low as to realize this truth: none of us is worthy. None of us have an in. The rightly church folk with perfect attendance pins don't have anything on the one who drank too much, said too much, or swore too much. Two Sundays ago we learned the Bible scholar here doesn't have dibs on the kingdom because he or she knows that the book of Isaiah, for example, has 66 chapters and was written not by one but by three authors from three different points in history. No, we should all be as honest as Peter and sink like he did.

And from that deep place, from that honest place and from that humble place, let Jesus hook you, and he hooks you because he cares.

He's with you in your daily life, not just in those big, blue moon miracles that happen a couple of times if we're lucky.  Let Jesus hook you. That's point one. Don't hand him a line. Don't fire off an excuse the next time you hear him guiding you in the voice of someone around you. That's point two. And the sinker? Take this home. He loves you.

Hop into the boat with him. See where it goes.