Transitioning

John 21: 1-19

After these things, Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, ‘I am going fishing.’ They said to him, ‘We will go with you.’ They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, ‘Children, you have no fish, have you?’ They answered him, ‘No.’ He said to them, ‘Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.’ So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish.

…When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my lambs.’

Change can be immensely exciting but it can also be terribly difficult. Change is wonderful in the way it brings new experiences, new skills, new interactions and new ways of beholding God, others and yourself. What is difficult about change is that there is often a transition period, a period in between the old and the new where it can feel like everything is just on the edge of unraveling. It can be terribly lonely and filled with uncertainty. Even if the change was one that was longed for, the challenges within transition have the potential to make one ache for the familiar ground of what was before. In the transition desert it is difficult to maintain a vision of the rightness of change. It’s easy to feel self-doubt and wonder where God is. People can be forgiven for trying to recreate the familiar within the new circumstances where the spiritual landscape is strange and old routines have been upset.

The disciples in this gospel were in transition. They had seen Jesus, knew he was alive and knew everything had changed – again. You’d think that after three years of following Jesus, they would be used to profound change and used to handling exceedingly unfamiliar situations but this was radically different to anything that had gone before. Before he died, Jesus was with them in the flesh, all the time. Even though all sorts of boggling, exciting and challenging things had been happening, Jesus was their constant. They knew they could come to him face to face, ask him questions and get answers, even if they didn’t understand a lot of the answers.

So, as joyful as they were to know that Jesus wasn’t dead, it was still very confusing to know how to proceed. Jesus was alive but where was he? They couldn’t just turn around at any given moment and say, “Hey, Jesus. What did you mean when you said…?” They were probably remembering all the times of immediate contact they had with Jesus in the past and how they squandered it and took it for granted. Maybe they were reminiscing about laughter in the evenings as they sat around the fire or the times when they all walked along singing the psalms together. What they wouldn’t give to go back to those halcyon days of walking day by day at Jesus’ side! Now, even though they knew Jesus was alive, there were moments of overwhelming homesickness for the days when things didn’t seem so complex and spirituality didn’t seem to demand so much faith and courage.

We’ve all been there. Radical change is a part of life as we move through changes of vocations, jobs and living spaces. We face unknown situations, strange people or unfamiliar cultures or traditions. Children are born, relationships change or perish, loved ones die, responsibilities shift and roles switch. We’ve all been faced with unsettling and sometimes deeply painful radical change, so we can all totally relate to what Peter decided to do.

Go fishing.

Fishing was what Peter knew. Before Jesus came and called his name, Peter was a fisherman and when he was fishing, he was in control. He knew how to handle the boat, he knew how to deal with the nets and he was at home on the water. So, in his loneliness and confusion, he turned back to the familiar and the known. It probably felt very comforting to be in that boat doing exactly what he knew how to do but after awhile something became very apparent. No fish. All night they fished and caught nothing.

In the spiritual walk with Jesus, you can’t go back. No matter how uncomfortable the present feels and no matter how murky and confusing the future looks, you can’t go back – not if you desire to grow and flourish. Not if the Lord is calling you by Name.

Jesus appeared on the shore and said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?”  He was so gentle and so loving. He knew how they were grieving for the past and he didn’t blame them one bit. He told them to cast their net on the right side of the boat and he filled the net to overflowing. It was a gift but also a lesson. “Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it.” Unless the Lord sends you fishing, it’s probably not going to do much good to look for the old boats to go fishing.

At one time, Jesus filled Peter’s nets and then told him that from then on he would be a Fisher of People. Later he told Peter he would be a Rock for his Church. On the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, he told Peter three times to feed his lambs and sheep. He was telling Peter he was a Shepherd.  “Unless the Lord builds the house…” Unless the Lord speaks your name –Fisher of People, Rock, Shepherd, Voice in the Wilderness, Warrior, Counselor, Teacher, Breach Mender, Builder, Comforter etc.– your labor will distract you and keep you busy but your nets will be empty. In times of transition you need to learn to wait for the Lord and listen for the Name he calls you by. 

We are allowed to grieve for the past for a while; indeed, it is healthy and good to grieve over, love and honor all that has shaped us so far. It is part of the dying and letting go process. But we must not forget that where we are ultimately moving is forward into new life and ‘new’ means ‘unknown’. When we read this week’s gospel, it is hard to ignore the fact that any change that brings new life involves taking risks. Nobody can deny that completely trusting in God when the unfamiliar threatens to swamp us and overwhelm us is very risky. The risk lies in the fact that when something is new it cannot be easily visualized, controlled or actualized by us. Only the Lord can create what is truly new. What we tend to create is a rehash of what we’ve always known.

Here’s an unattributed quote I read recently that I think is very comforting and brilliantly true. I can hear the voice of my God coming through:

Everything will be okay in the end.

If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.