Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Uncertainty was making him antsy. Anxious. Agitated. He had stood up and sat down. Wandered to the window to peer between the latched shutters. Gotten a drink of water. Offered the guys with him a drink as well. He couldn’t seem to sit still. Recent events had clarified so many things, yet shrouded others in great mystery. Like the future. What did their future look like now? What were they supposed to do with themselves? Where should they go? Would it ever be safe to walk the streets again? They had been Jesus’ disciples. What were they now since He’d returned to Heaven? Who were they? Has-beens? Wanna-be’s? What were they supposed to do with the rest of their lives on earth? Embark on new careers? Return to old? And where, exactly, had Jesus been sending them when He first visited after His resurrection? Jerusalem? Judea? Samaria? (John 20:19-21)

Sighing heavily and shaking his head at the jumble of thoughts racing in circles around his brain, Peter made a decision. He wasn’t going to sit there cluelessly ruminating. He was going fishing. He’d been doing it as long as he could remember. Taught as a boy to cast his line and quietly, patiently wait for the tug of a fish, Peter had learned early on that there was peace and calm in those moments. Silence that allowed the contemplative sorting of substantive thoughts from chaffy mental ramblings. He desperately needed such time. Time to row his boat, drop his net, and peacefully, quietly listen. Time to allow the calming sound of lapping waves to silence the insanely swirling questions and help him listen for divine direction.

It comes as no surprise that Peter would choose the water as a place to be alone with God. He was accustomed to finding Him there. Peter had been in his boat when Jesus initially called him to leave everything and follow Him. It had been his very boat on the lake of Gennesaret into which Jesus had climbed and instructed them to go out from land and put down the net for a catch. Discouraged by a profitless night, Peter hadn’t believed Him. The fish weren’t moving. He already knew that. But it wasn’t worth the argument.  In spite of the disbelief pulsing through his veins, Peter and his men rowed the boat out into the lake and lowered their nets. Surreptitiously glancing at one another, they silently wondered how long the net would hang empty before Jesus allowed them to admit defeat and head back to shore. They would never find out. The net was already moving with snared fish. A flame of hope ignited in their exhausted hearts. The net tightened and multitudes of fish could be seen in the water around them. By the time it was over, the size of the catch threatened to sink their boat, forcing them to hail another for assistance. And Peter learned his first lesson about Jesus and fishing. When we are desperate, discouraged, disheartened, or distressed, Jesus comes to us, right where we are, steps into our boat and offers us the miracle of hope. (Luke 5:1-11)

Going forward, Peter should have simply expected Jesus to do the miraculous when water and boating and fishing were involved. Time and again Jesus would meet them in watery places meeting their needs and improving their faith. Navigating a ship across the sea with the rest of the disciples when a raging storm arose, Peter and his colleagues wondered how Jesus could sleep when the storm was so fierce it threatened to capsize their ship. As the waves rose higher and their boat rocked harder, panic and fear raced from one end of the ship to the other. The worst possible outcome was expected. Everything would be lost. Nets. Boat. Lives. Unless Jesus did something. And He did. In a glorious demonstration of His grand omnipotence, Jesus rose and rebuked the elements, calming them with His voice alone. Proving that when all human options are exhausted, when the scholars and theologians believe it implausible, when doctors deem it improbable, when the whole world screams it’s impossible, our great God is just fixing to get started.  (Matthew 8:23-27)

Following the death of John the Baptist, Jesus boated out to a desolate place to be alone, but the crowd hunted him down. His compassionate heart-wrenching at the sight of sick needing healed and hearts needing changed, Jesus came to them. He healed and preached until it was evening, but the crowd didn’t dissipate. Knowing there were limited restaurants on the way home, the disciples begged Jesus to send the people away. They weren’t expecting his answer. “You feed them.” Seriously?! With what? Two measly fish and five tiny bread rolls? Was He being facetious? Could He not see the crowd? 

Oh, He saw them, alright. Not only did He see them, He saw their need. And He met it. Right there. Right then. Jesus blessed the tiny snack of fish and bread, then handed it to the disciples and told them to start serving. As food coma settled in, the people lounged around, uninterested in leaving. But the disciples needed a break. Jesus needed a respite. Time to be alone. Time to pray. Time to reconnect with His power source in Heaven. Sending the disciples ahead across the sea, Jesus went into the mountains to pray. (Matthew 14:10-23) 

There is no record of Jesus establishing a rendezvous point for later in the day. They probably didn’t need one. The disciples were not unaccustomed to Jesus heading into the mountains or desert to pray. He always met back up with them. Odd then, isn’t it, that they were so ill-prepared for His arrival. Or maybe they were caught off guard by the method He chose to reach them. One would think they’d have been prepared for anything by this point. They’d seen so much. Things without explanation. Things that could only be described as miraculous. Surely by now they should have been waiting with bated breath to see how He’d arrive. Yet they were terrifically unprepared when Jesus came comfortably walking across the raging water. 

Intently focused on the oars and the increasing, wind-driven waves, the disciples had no time for sightseeing. For what must surely have felt like the millionth time, they were fighting a storm on the sea. The winds were fierce. The rowing was difficult. Progress was slow. They were tired. When the first man saw the ghost walking across the water, he must surely have thought his exhaustion was affecting his sight. Until he blinked and the alleged ghost remained. His cry of alarm alerted the others. Their fear was palpable. As Jesus continued toward the boat, they cried out in fear. Not wanting them to remain in their terrified state for a moment longer than necessary, Jesus called out. They didn’t need to be afraid. Not of the wind beating their sails. Not of the waves rocking their ship. Not of the vision crossing the waters. It was Jesus. He had come to them. Right where they were. And Peter’s impulsiveness dropped into hyper-drive. 

Boldly, in a move many find appalling, Peter asks for proof. “Prove it’s you, Jesus. Tell me to walk on water too.” If Peter thought Jesus would chuckle and tell Him to stay put, he was in for a grand surprise! He called him to come. If nerves hadn’t been quivering in Peter’s stomach before, they surely were now. Yet still he went. Cautiously slipping over the side of the boat, Peter gingerly touched the sole of his foot to the wildly rolling sea. And the shifting liquid beneath his feet stood firm. One step. Two steps. Three steps. It was going beautifully! Until a particularly strong gust of wind ruffled his hair, whipped his cloak and supercharged his fear. Looking down at the unstable water beneath his feet, unable to mentally work out exactly what was happening, doubt and fear clouded Peter’s mind and he began to sink. As the water rose over his ankles and continued up his calves, Peter cried out words similar to the ones the disciples cried the last time they’d been caught in a storm, “Lord, save me.” And He did. Immediately. Because when we are tossed about by storms, either of our own making or simply the inevitable ones life hands us, we can trust Jesus to immediately come to our rescue with hope and help and peace. (Matthew 14:24-32) 

While Peter and his friends sat fishing on the sea, pondering Jesus’ resurrection and the trajectory of their future, Jesus came. Again. They recognized Him this time. Seems they had learned the lesson. Into the quietness of solitude, when you can hear Him best, Jesus comes. It is then He speaks ministering words to our desperate souls. Words of comfort. Words of hope. Words of healing. Guiding words that abolish the confusion the evil one uses to draw us off course. Strengthening words that give us courage to face the journey ahead. Loving words reminding us that even when we can’t see His hand and don’t understand His plan, we can always trust His heart. Words that tell us He is working whether we understand it or not. Always. In everything. God is working. He has our best interest at heart. And He wants us to find rest in Him. (John 21:3-14; Romans 8:28, 31; Philippians 4:13; Proverbs 3:5-6; I Corinthians 14:33)

When the world gets too noisy, too pushy, too angry, too tempting, take a page out of Peter’s book, and go fishing. Find your place of solitude–your favorite armchair, a walk in the woods, the front porch swing. Or the grassy bank of a stream where your line dangles hopefully in the gurgling water below. Into the silence of your soul, Jesus will speak. He will revive and restore. He will give you rest. Jesus wants to meet with you. Isn’t it time you went fishing? (Matthew 11:28-30; I Peter 5:7; Jeremiah 31:5; Psalm 55:22; Psalm 23)