Not Your Average Fishing Story     Mark 1:16-20    Epiphany 3, cycle B             January 22, 2006

Today we have our annual meeting, and I’ve been writing my annual report, and looking at numbers and spreadsheets. As I looked back over the last year, it was a very good year for our church. Financially it was good. I want to thank you all for that. And our number of people added to our rolls were up, albeit modestly. Your tithes made that possible. The only area we didn’t grow significantly is worship attendance, although we still have to make our year end calculations on that. I’ll get those figures to you soon. Our biggest achievement was the guiding principals that we adopted. They will help us focus on our purpose, and our vision as God’s people.

The critical question for us is, are we following Jesus, and the principals he has given us? Are we fulfilling his vision and purpose for us. Those questions are difficult to quantify objectively. The answers are found in our collective hearts and minds as God’s people.

Today’s reading from Mark’s tell us how Jesus began calling his first disciples. He walked down to the lakeshore and told a few common fishermen, "Follow me and I will maker you fish for people," and immediately they followed Jesus. Phillip and Andrew’s father was in the boat fixing the nets. Without saying so much as "good luck, Dad," they left their old father right in the boat.

The kingdom those fishermen wanted was based on their own desire for glory and power. They hoped his quest for God’s kingdom would bring them social and political power, wealth and fame. They saw his miracles, heard all his teaching, but totally missed Jesus vision and purpose for the reign of God’s kingdom. When Jesus was accused of treason by the Roman government and convicted of blasphemy against God by the temple priests, those fishermen ran away form him and went back to their fishing boats on the Sea of Galilee.

Only after they heard and saw that Jesus rose from the dead, they understood the vision and purpose that Jesus gave them. Jesus was a real man that really died. But he was also the real messiah who was coming again to make the whole creation his kingdom. They This kingdom is for all people to live in peace. God will make Jesus the judge of the people. Those who follow Christ are forgiven and set free to live by grace through faith in his kingdom.

After the resurrection, the disciples went fishing for people. They found it was good news for the disenfranchised who are looking for a new kingdom, but bad news for those who liked things they way they are today.

Today, we have to aks ourselves, what are we catching? Our annual report says only a few people, but those are Lutherans who happened to have moved to our area. So we’re not really catching many fish at all. Even more troublesome to me is that in our culture, the message of God’s love in Christ for all people is being replaced with a message of a kingdom of glory, power and wealth. What can we do.

In the annual meeting today, I will talk about a process called Natural Church Development as a way of helping us understanding ourselves. The process will help us look at ourselves and our character as a congregation. I’ll soon be inviting all of you to a meeting to hear more about it.

For today, let me tell you a story from my experience fishing. Truth is, I don’t like to fish, but I really enjoyed watching people fish. In highschool my first summer job was working on a fishing boat. Every day, we would have a boat load of 65 people going out deep sea fishing, off the coast of Atlantic City, NJ.

In this story, there were three characters, Captain Hawkins, a tough no nonsense kind of guy who smoked Salem’s and had a keen interest in one of the secretaries in the office.

There was the mate, Clyde, a gruff man, who spent so much time in the sun, he looked older than his 48 years. His brand of cigarettes was call True, he said because the plastic tip felt good on his gums.

Then there was me, the mate's helper. I was there to sell beer, chips and coke. Also I had to cut the bait and keep the rental poles working. Then there were our customers who we took fishing, men women and children who all wanted to try to catch fish.

Oh, and then there’s one more person, one that almost no one ever noticed. His name was Ned. Ned was an old man who looked older than his years. He would sit and fish off the dock most all summer, watching the boats go out and come in. He just sat in his old folding chair, in his old tattered cloths, with an old fishing pole and dirty old tackle box. Days would go by without a him catching a single fish. But he still kept watching and fishing.

It was a bright but humid August day, and a boat load of 65 people were on board. It was like a day at the county fair. The twin diesel engines droned on for what seemed to be hours as we headed farther and farther from shore, beyond the sight of the beach. We could only see the tips of the highest hotels along the boardwalk. The people waited anxiously, poles ready.

As we sailed out into the Atlantic, I worked to cut fresh clams for bait, and filled a container for each passenger. Occasionally, I had to stop to go to the cooler to sell Schmidt’s beer and Coca Cola, the only two brands we carried. But it tasted great, fresh out of a glass bottle. I shared in the profits, so I was glad to see so many thirsty people.

It was about 45 minutes, then abruptly, the captain slowed the two Cummins diesels. Clyde hurried to the bow to drop anchor upon command. We circled around as the captain peered at the Loran. He was looking for little blips on the screen, showing the location over an old ship wreck. If we were going to catch anything, we had to position the boat just over the wreck.

Once the engines stop, Clyde unleashed the anchor and rang the bell. Then he bellowed “Drop you lines.” That day, like most days, the people actually cheered, they were so anxious to start fishing. The air was filled with the sound of 65 fishing reals unwinding about 80 feet of line to reach the bottom.

We waited and waited. They knew that when the first fish was caught, I had the honor of ringing the bell and announcing the fish. I’d say, “10 inch sea bass,” or “15 inch flounder.” But time passed. No fish. No announcement. I kept waiting for the sound of someone reeling in a fish, or the sight of a bent pole. None came.

The people began to grumble, and looked up at the wheelhouse and Captain Hawkins. The hollared, “Where’s the fish? We’re not catching anything!” Finally, the captain said, “Ring the bell.” I rang the bell, as Clyde announced, “Pull ‘em up.” The two diesels engines started up, and the customers started winding the fishing reels.

Soon we reached 16 knots, and we headed off to another wreck, about 20 minutes away. The process was repeated. The engines slowed, I dropped the large iron anchor, and rang the bell. The lines went down again, but the minutes passed. Still, no fish.

Now the complaining got louder and mouthy. Some even said, “This is supposed to be a fishing boat. I expect to catch fish. How about a refund!” Captain Hawkins slammed sown the wheel house window, and then the door. The only thing good about this was sales at the cooler were really picking up. After about 30 minutes the captain said, “Ring the bell. And again I rang it, and Clyde said, “Pull ‘em up.” We chugged off to yet a third fishing spot, this time even farther out from shore.

I knew what that meant. Clyde could tell by sighting on the buildings off on the distance shore that we were going to a place we called “the hole,” about 120 foot deep. The only fish we caught in the hole were called ling, the salt water equivalent of catfish. In those years in New Jersey, we didn’t know any white people who ate cat fish. Clyde and I were sure this was Captain Hawkins way of telling these people what they could do with all their complaints. They would catch fish most of them would never take home and eat, and we had an idea that most of the customers would not be happy about it.

It was no time at all until we caught our first ling. The novice fisherman took a look at its ugly tenticles and slimy brown skin and said, “EEEH, what’s that! “A ling,” I said. “Do people eat those?” he said. “Some do.” “ Is that all there is here?” He fired back . “Just about.” He pulled in his line, glared at me and went over to the cooler and pulled out a Schmit’s. He forgot to pay me, but I didn’t say a word.

After we arrived back at the dock, the people filed off and left the ling lying in the boat. Clyde and I filled several bags large plastic bags with fish. Clyde told me, “Take these to Ned; he’ll knew what to do with ‘em.”

I walked over held up one of the bags of fish and said, “You want these?” I said. “I got a few more bags back on the boat. He smiled toothless, and nodded. When I came back, there were several other people with Ned, all looking at the fish and smiling and the saltwater catfish people called ling.

What’s the point of the story? Let’s go fishing for all kinds of fish! We can catch bags of fish with the good news of the kingdom of God.

Amen!