Pastor Bev Piro + February 9, 2025
Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
Jesus calls us beyond the safety of the shore into the deep waters of faith. Just as Peter, James, and John had to trust Jesus when he told them to cast their nets again, we too are invited to let go of fear and self-reliance and step into the unknown. The deep water holds both risk and reward—storms may arise, but so will abundance. Following Jesus often means leaving behind what is familiar to embrace a life of deeper trust and relationship with God. Where is Jesus calling you to go deeper?
Sermon Transcript
From YouTube's automatically generated captions, lightly edited by ChatGPT for punctuation and readability.
So, I bet some of you like to fish. Are there any fisher people in this crowd? Not as many as I might expect, living so close as we do to the water.
Well, I’ve never fished in my life. I don’t know how to fish or anything about fishing, but I’m going to preach about it today anyway.
Well, not about fishing exactly, but about going deep with God.
Now, fishing stories are supposed to be about the ones who do the fishing, right? “Oh, you should have seen it! It was this big!” Or about the big one that got away, or about using the no-fail bait, or the special fly that you tied yourself.
Peter had no bragging to do the day that Jesus came and sat on his boat. After a full night of fishing, he had nothing to show for it. Peter and his fishing buddies were washing their nets and hoping for a better catch the next time.
Then Jesus—a carpenter by trade, not a fisherman—told Peter and his crew to go out again into the deep water and to try again. Tired and exasperated, they went out again anyway and caught a boatload of fish. Not just one boatload, but two—maybe even three—because the boats were so full of fish they were nearly sinking.
And then, after what was probably the biggest catch of his life, Peter immediately resigned from fishing.
The story has many things to teach—about abundance, about following Jesus even when it makes no sense to do so, about leaving behind everything you know and taking a big chance. A big chance with hope and a prayer.
And I think one of the things it teaches is about the danger—and the reward—of going deeper.
“Go into the deep water,” Jesus tells Peter.
Well, the Gospels tell other stories about how quickly storms can come up when you’re out in the deep water—storms that make you scared and afraid that the boat will be swamped and you will drown. The water is dark where it is deep. In shallow places near the shore, there’s safety. But the deep—that is something else altogether.
So, what is there in the deep water, besides fish, that Jesus should invite us there?
One of Brother Richard Rohr’s books, The Divine Dance, is one of his mind-blowing (or mind-expanding) writings about the depth and breadth of faith. In this book, Rohr posits new images and concepts of the Divine in order to invite us deeply into a mystery that is beyond—far beyond—our understanding.
Now, you know—because you’ve heard him referenced many times—that he is a Jesuit contemplative. Throughout this book, he invites the reader to go deeper—from thinking about faith, about grace, about forgiveness, about compassion, to experiencing these things. To move from the realm of knowing them, or knowing about them in our heads, to knowing them in an entirely different way—in our hearts and in the living of our lives.
In his words, he invites us to be in relationship with all those things.
In order to venture into a deeper relationship with God, we have to let go of our fears, our misgivings, our expectations. “Lord, we’ve already been out all night, and we’ve caught nothing!” And yet, we must allow God to lead us ever more deeply to all that God has to give.
It isn’t just about the multitude of fish Peter and his pals would find in the deep. God wants nothing more from us than to be in relationship with God—and because of that, with each other. It is there, in our relationships, that we meet the Divine face to face. To become fishers not just of fish, but of people—people who, like Peter and James and John, responded to an invitation to go deeper.
Shallow water is pleasant. It tickles our toes and our ankles when we walk in it. The minnows and the small fish gather there. You can see the bottom.
In shallow water, there isn’t much risk. It doesn’t call for a lot of courage. If things become uncomfortable, the shore is nearby, and you can easily walk away.
It’s in the deep water where those things we say we want are to be found—things like healing, and forgiveness, and acceptance, and love.
Jesus is always inviting us to go deep.
Go to the well, and you will find living water. Go to the cross, and you will find God. Go to the tomb, and you will find life.
In the shallows, we tiptoe into a journey of faithful living and discipleship.
But Jesus continues to invite us to the deepest water, where deeper faith, deeper trust, deeper relationship with God and each other await.
Now, back to Lake Gennesaret. Was that big catch of fish the end of the story?
No—I think it was just the beginning.
Jesus got those guys—Peter, James, and John—to get their feet wet, and then invited them to something bigger. Way bigger.
Fishing for people.
In the deep water, there are those who are searching for something bigger than themselves—searching for meaning, for groundedness, for connection, for relationship. They are waiting to be caught—by those who have been in the deep, who know their way around a little bit, and who can gently lead them to the source of all they are searching for: a loving God who provides fish for the fishers, consolation for the wounded, forgiveness for the transgressors, and all else that we need.
Some will be found splashing around in the shallow water—too fearful, too lonely, too self-reliant to go deeper. Because it is there that they might find what frightens them the most—admitting what separates them from God’s love.
Peter cries out, “Go away from me! I am a sinner!”
Rather than allowing themselves to be fully embraced and washed over by God’s immense love, the waders need to be gently led, step by step, until they are able to float freely—trusting in God for all things.
Peter, James, and John quit fishing that day.
They left everything—their boats, their nets, their families. They left everything behind to follow Jesus.
Last week’s Gospel story told of the temple leaders who chased Jesus to the edge of a cliff because they didn’t like what he had to say. Their years of study, of practicing strict religious laws, of casting judgment or meting out justice did not prepare them to see God in another—in Jesus.
But the fishers—the ones who lived by their gut instinct, who worked day in and day out in God’s creation, their very livelihood sourced in the abundance of all the waters held—they saw Jesus for what and who he is.
Instead of chasing him away, they followed him. Not knowing where he was going. And certainly unaware of where he—and they—would end up.
So, what about you?
Are you comfortable wading in the shallow water, where you can see and feel the ground beneath your feet?
Where is the locus of your faith?
Is it rooted in Scripture, in books or devotionals you’ve read? Does your faith reside in the things you memorized in confirmation class? Have you had an experience of God, or the Holy, or the Divine that you find hard to describe? Do you consider your relationship with God like that of a lover and a beloved one?
What stands in the way of going deep with God?
Letting go of understanding, of knowledge, of self-reliance—and allowing yourself to float in the deep water and be washed over with God’s amazing grace?
There’s a lot of fishing to be done.
And deeper water awaits.
Maybe we should all just do like Peter, and James, and John—and just let Jesus take the lead.
Amen.
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