Does Jesus Ask for too Much?

Luke 5:1-11

1 One day as Jesus was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret, the people were crowding around him and listening to the word of God. 2 He saw at the water’s edge two boats, left there by the fishermen, who were washing their nets. 3 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.

4 When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.”

5 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.”

6 When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break. 7 So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them, and they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink.

8 When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” 9 For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken, 10 and so were James and John, the sons of Zebedee, Simon’s partners.

Then Jesus said to Simon, “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will fish for people.” 11 So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him.

Does Jesus Ask for too Much?

Did Jesus ask too much? At first the request seems small enough: He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little from shore.[1] As far as charters go, this is about as easy as it gets. Jesus just wanted to be able to address the crowd of people who had come to listen.

The thing is, Peter had been fishing all night long. He must have been tired and ready to go home. So, even this easy charter could have been considered an imposition. But not to Peter. He had heard about Jesus. He wanted to be there, even if he had to stave off sleepiness a little bit longer. If it was an imposition it only required Peter’s passive attention.

But then Jesus asks for more: When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.”[2] There’s a difference between “a little from shore” and “deep water.” This was going to require effort now, and even more time.

Plus, remember what Simon was doing at the start of this passage: He saw at the water’s edge two boats, left there by the fishermen, who were washing their nets.[3] They had just washed and stowed their tackle for the day. Now Jesus is asking them to take it back out and start all over.

Is this where Peter’s generosity runs out? Had Jesus finally asked too much? Apparently not for Peter. He says simply, “But because you say so, I will let down the nets.”[4] And it was a good thing too! When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break.[5] Not even two professional fishing crews on two professional fishing vessels could handle this one catch of fish! If Jesus was asking much of Peter, he was giving a lot to him too.

And still Jesus isn’t done asking. After Peter blurts out his unworthiness, Jesus says to him, “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will fish for people.”[6] This is more than a boat charter or an afternoon on the lake. This is a career change! This is a seismic shift in lifestyle. This would require leaving families and possessions, familiarity and professions. That’s a lot! This has to be where Peter draws the line and says, “Thanks but no thanks, Jesus. Enough is enough.” But still no: They pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him.[7]

It was much the same story 175 years ago, when Lutherans emigrating from Europe found a new home in North America. They left all the same things behind that Simon Peter and his fishing pals did: families, familiarity, possessions, professions. They had worked hard to find a place in Europe where they could exercise their faith freely, but without much luck. The state churches of Northern Europe were almost as bad as the Catholic Church in Luther’s day – binding consciences, mixing faith with politics, legislating morality not on the basis of the Bible but on what was socially expedient.

These Lutherans had worked hard, but their efforts didn’t yield results. So they put out from shore and started over. They let down their nets in the deep waters of North America. It was going to be a lot of work. This little band of Lutherans established the Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod and from their modest beginning God built the church body we’re part of today. We literally wouldn’t be here had it not been for their hard work.

Can you imagine? Can you imagine being called upon to do so much? Can you imagine if God had told those first WELS Lutherans that the fate of generations of believers across North America depended on their “fishing”? Could you have done it?

The truth is, God doesn’t ask for much different from you than he did from those displaced Lutherans 175 years ago or than he did from those fishermen 2,000 years ago. It starts with your passive attention, like what you’re doing right now – listening to the Word, even though, passive as it is, it does cost you something. You might be coming off the night shift and choosing to be here instead of going to bed. You might be fighting sickness or anxiety or 40 minutes of travel to get here. Your passive attention is expensive. And you know it from all the times that you lose those battles – you go to bed, you can’t bring yourself to walk out the door or get in your car.

And as hard as it can be to give our passive attention to him, God isn’t even content with just that. He asks for more. He calls for a life lived in faith and for your effort on things that sometimes defy logic. That’s hard work! Sometimes you’re up for it – you help out with the fall cleanup even though it eats up your Saturday morning. Sometimes you’re not – anything else sounds better than working hard, helping out, even just getting out of the house. Sometimes you’re willing to cast your net and tell others about Jesus – you invite your friends to the movie night or fall festival. Sometimes you don’t, because it’s hard and scary, and you’re not sure how they’ll react.

And who of us can claim that we’ve done as much for Jesus as Peter and his fishing pals did, leaving everything behind to follow him? So, if even Peter with all of the good work he did do for Jesus had to confess, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!”[8] how could we say anything different? We haven’t always answered the call. We haven’t always done the work. We haven’t even always given him the bare minimum. We are unworthy sinners.

But, dear Christian, that’s the point! None of this depends on you. Not your place in God’s family. Not the results of the work God calls you to do.

Why do you suppose Jesus chose Peter’s boat? Was it because it was the nicest, the biggest, the best? Luke just says it was there: He saw at the water’s edge two boats, left there by the fishermen, who were washing their nets.[9] Jesus needed a boat. Peter had a boat. He used Peter’s boat to preach a sermon he wanted Peter to hear.

Why do you suppose Jesus told Peter to let down the nets for a catch? Was it because he could tell that Peter had expertly navigated them to the most likely place a school of fish would be at that time of day? Jesus wanted to show Peter something that would defy a lifetime of fishing experience to open his eyes to the reality of who was standing in his boat.

Why do you suppose Jesus told Peter that he would fish for people now? Was it because Peter was so good with people – so eloquent, so persuasive? Peter was there. And there were many more people who needed to hear what Peter heard, who needed to have their eyes opened to the same reality Peter needed to see with his two eyes.

That’s why Jesus said, “Don’t be afraid.” Peter really did have every reason to be scared. He was an unworthy sinner standing in the presence of the holy God. Jesus told him not to be afraid because despite his unworthiness he was loved. And that’s God’s message for you too.

We haven’t always leapt into action when the obvious opportunities presented themselves. We haven’t even always done the bare minimum. But Jesus wasn’t content to passively sit by and let us suffer for sin. He leapt into action and left his throne in heaven to pursue you, to preach his message of forgiveness for sins to you, to do the hard work of suffering and dying to wash your unworthiness away, so that you could always know his love for you.

And then Jesus sent Peter – and his brother Andrew, and their business partners, James and John – to spread the good news, to the share the Gospel, not because they were such amazing people, but because God had amazing work to do through them. And generation after generation the story has been the same. One lowly sinner-turned-believer takes up Jesus’ message and passes it on to one, two, a hundred others, and God’s kingdom grows, not because of that sinner, but through him or her. Always because of Christ but through people like you and me.

That’s what makes anniversaries – like our synod’s 175th or our congregation’s 60th – so humbling and happy. Who are we that God would work through us? But he does. We may not always see it in the moment. We might feel like Peter after a long, fruitless night of fishing. But God nevertheless chooses lowly sinners like us to accomplish his greatest miracles – the miracle of faith being born in a human through a simple proclamation of Jesus’ love.

And that can’t happen without you. Without your passive attention as you sit here today or give time for personal devotion at home. Without your active participation – to whatever degree it might be, e.g. making popcorn for guests who come to watch a movie, raking leaves to take care of the place we proclaim his Word, saying prayers with your kids before bed. You are God’s chosen instrument to proclaim his love to this world.

And through you and the work you do in his name, generations of believers will rejoice. 60, 100, 500 years from now, Christians will look back on this time and thank God for the work he did through you to fish for people. Because that’s what matters most. Not the rod or the tackle. Not the net or the boat. But the miraculous catch of fish Jesus miraculously supplied to be gathered together with you and all the rest of the saints in his heavenly home to be with him forever.

Is that too much for Jesus to ask? Not in the least. Because it doesn’t depend on you. It depends on him. He just works through you. And while he may ask a lot of you, he gives even more to you and through you for the advancement of his kingdom and to the glory of his name. May we always be humble and happy to be used by him. Amen.

[1] Luke 5:3

[2] Luke 5:4

[3] Luke 5:2

[4] Luke 5:5

[5] Luke 5:6

[6] Luke 5:10

[7] Luke 5:11

[8] Luke 5:8

[9] Luke 5:2

St. Pete's on Repeat RSS

Spend Thanksgiving At Jesus' Feet

Luke 17:11-19

11 Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance 13 and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

14 When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.

15 One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. 16 He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.

17 Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? 18 Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

Spend Thanksgiving At Jesus’ Feet

As Jesus made his way to Jerusalem, he encountered a group that would have looked more at home at a Halloween party than a Thanksgiving dinner. Ten men with leprosy—a variety of skin diseases that left its victims disfigured, discoloured, and disavowed by society. Their flesh was dying, flaking off, covered in sores. It spread slowly, but it marked you immediately as someone to avoid.

It’s hard to imagine what was the worst part of these lepers’ fates. Certainly, there was physical pain and discomfort. But the psychological trauma had to be at least as painful. According to the law, anyone who contracted leprosy was not only “unclean” themselves—they made anyone who touched them unclean, too.[1] That meant society really had no place for you—at least, not inside the city gates. It meant quarantine indefinitely, with no visiting hours and no known cure. Your only source of human interaction was calling out to anyone who came close: “Unclean! Unclean!” A warning to them, and a constant reminder to yourself: as long as you bore those marks, you were stuck on the outside, with no hope of return.

This gruesome group of ten lepers had little left in life to be thankful for. They hardly had a life at all.

I don’t tell you all of this to try to stir up your pity, to make you realize how much better you have it—because I can tell you what the worst part their fate was. Something deeper than the open wounds covering their skin. Something more shameful than being cut off from their families. Something that you and I have, too.

It may not show up on your medical exam, but you can still see the damage sin causes in every part of your life. It may spread slowly, but it kills everything it touches.

Sin causes separation. You may not be quarantined away from your family, but you still know which faces will be missing at Thanksgiving dinner—especially after what’s happened between you. You know the words that were spoken—or not spoken—that have replaced warmth with walls of ice.

Sin leaves a mark. No matter how many blemishes may be on your skin, is your track record as a friend, a son, daughter, parent, employee… spotless? Or are there scars from your past that never seem to fade away?

Sin brings shame. What are the parts of you you’d rather keep under wraps, never to see the light of day? Are you afraid of what your loved ones would think, if they saw what you really are?

Try as we might, our “condition” is not something we can keep hidden. Sooner or later, the spots start to show, and everyone can see what we are: sinners. Not that anyone should be surprised—it’s the same “disease” that our parents had, and the same one we all pass on to the next generation. By our very nature, we can’t stop sinning.

That’s exactly what the Old Testament laws of “clean” and “unclean” were meant to show. Like leprosy, like a disease that clings to our skin and keeps people away, our sin contaminates us and everything we touch; it makes us impure and unclean. It creates an impossible separation between us and our perfect, pure, holy God. Because the kingdom of heaven has no place for sin—“clean” and “unclean” cannot mix. And anyone who still bears sin’s shameful marks will be stuck outside, separated from God’s presence, forever.

Ten men, banished by the marks they bore, see someone coming near. Ordinarily, they would call out a warning: “Unclean! Unclean!” But not this time. They had heard who was coming. This was Jesus. They knew their uncleanness would be no secret to him. And more importantly, they knew that he could do something about it.

And so, not daring to get any closer, they joined their voices in a single prayer: “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”[2]

They didn’t know: Jesus was already on his way to do just that. Right in verse eleven, it tells us: “on his way to Jerusalem.” On his way to the cross. God, the Eternal Life himself, descended into a world of death and dying, to take all the ugly impurities of sinful mankind on himself, and to die with them once and for all, to tear down the dividing wall between God and sinners. Yes, Jesus would have mercy—on the whole world.

That would come in just a few weeks. But today, these ten men stand in front of him.

Jesus sees them. He sees all the shame, the uncleanness, the leprosy that marked them as separated from society. But he doesn’t recoil in disgust, or look away and pick up his pace. Instead, he tells them to do something no leper would ever do, unless they were healed: “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.[3] Dead flesh, restored to life. Pure. Clean.

Jesus sees you. He sees all the shame, the uncleanness, the leprosy of sin that marked you as separated from a holy God. But he doesn’t recoil or look away. Instead, he comes straight to you. He pours holy water on your head to wash you clean, and replaces the marks of sin with the sign of the cross on your head and your heart, to mark you as a child of God. He shows you the wounds in his hands and his side, and he gives you his own body and blood to assure you that your dead flesh has been restored to life with him. That his sacrifice has made you pure and clean in God’s sight.

“One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.”[4]

Ten men call out to Jesus for mercy. Ten men were washed clean of their leprosy. Nine men were apparently content to leave it at that. But one man—the least likely, a Samaritan—had the faith to understand the incredible, undeserved generosity he had been shown. And he couldn’t keep himself away from the one who was responsible—the one who made him clean.

Just moments ago, this man would have been ashamed to be seen by anyone, in his miserable, leprous state. But now, there is no shame at all in his loud, unfiltered response to the miracle that he had received. Instead of calling out “Unclean!” to whoever happened to come near, he shouts “Praise God!” to whoever his voice could reach. Newly restored hope propels him until he no longer stands at a distance, but falls right at Jesus’ feet in thanks.

Jesus has washed us clean of our guilt and given us new life in him. There is nothing left to keep us separated from our God, because the holy, precious blood of his Son marks us as holy and precious in his sight. But that doesn’t mean it ends there! We don’t just wander off until we need Jesus for something else; we run back to give thanks at Jesus’ feet, over and over again.

Not because Jesus has a fragile ego and needs to know he’s appreciated. Our thanksgiving is not a condition for the healing he gives—he still healed all ten men, even if only one returned. Jesus wants you to come back and thank him… because he wants to give you more!

It’s like when Grandma sends her grandkids a birthday card and a twenty-dollar bill, and she asks if they got it—because, of course, they forgot to write a thank you card or give her a call. So the parents get on them—“Did you call Grandma yet?” But ultimately, what’s the point of that call? It’s not to convince nice, old Grandma to send more money next time. It’s because she also wants to tell them she loves them.

Jesus has so much more to give you. When you go to him in prayer not just before surgery, but after the surgery goes well, he gets to tell you that he has also removed the cancer of sin from your soul. When you thank him for the family gathered around the dinner table, he gets to tell you that you have been adopted into God’s family, and he has prepared a feast for you in heaven.

Every day, he works miracles around us. Through doctors and surgeons, he heals far more than just ten lepers. Through farmers, he feeds not just 5,000, but billions of people day after day. And most miraculous of all, through his Word and sacraments, he washes away countless sins, and turns our shame into joy.

We can always thank God for his answers to our prayers. But we also have so much to be thankful for, even when we don’t get what we pray for. I don’t mean you need to “fake it till you make it,” to trick yourself into being happy by forcing an “attitude of gratitude.” Jesus gives you promises that are true no matter the circumstances.

Thank God that, when the teachers are on strike—or you’re on strike—and your daily routine is thrown out the window for who knows how long, your God still promises, “I know the plans I have for you,…plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”[5]

Thank God that, when healing seems less realistic of an outcome every day, nothing can change the fact that “By his wounds you are healed.”[6]

Thank God that, whether you can afford a five-course dinner, or you’re struggling to make the leftovers last another day, you can still pray with full confidence before every meal, “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his mercy endures forever.”[7]

So come back. Come back to the one who came to give you life and make you clean. Come back to the one who not only braved the barrier between you, but removed it forever. Come back in thanksgiving to your loving Saviour’s feet—because he has more love to give you. Amen.

[1] Leviticus 13:45-46

[2] Luke 17:13

[3] Luke 17:14

[4] Luke 17:15-16

[5] Jeremiah 29:11

[6] 1 Peter 2:24

[7] Psalm 136:1