Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Reflect on your life. . . . Look back across the years and the decades. . . . Was there one critical moment when you said "no" and now wish that you had said "yes"? Or, perhaps, a time when you said "yes," and have wondered ever since what your life would have been like if you had just said "no"? [pause]

With your decision in mind, travel with me back some two thousand years – to the Jewish villages and towns along the Sea of Galilee. Back in those days, life was fairly simple. Every morning except on the sabbath, fathers and sons went out in their boats. If they were successful in their catch, they and the women in the household would take the fish to the local marketplace, where they could barter for the necessities of life. Kingdoms and empires rose and fell, invading armies came and went, but fishing and haggling were the real challenges for ordinary people.

Then, one day, a stranger came along proclaiming the gospel of God and declaring

"The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news."

As you and your friends heard his message, some whispered, "Isn’t this the man who has just returned from spending forty days in the wilderness"? And others replied under their breaths, "Is it true what everyone says – that he was tempted by Satan, lived among the wild beasts, and was waited on by angels?"

Then, one of your friends said, "I don’t care whether he is a crazy man from the wilderness or a prophet from God, I’m too busy repairing nets to worry about repenting." Finally, one of your recently married brothers shouted out to the stranger, "Go see my mother-in-law; maybe you can get her to repent of all the abuse she heaps upon me, her new son-in-law." And you all joined in the laughter that followed.

Undeterred by your responses, the man kept walking along the edge of the sea. Eventually, he encountered a fisherman named Simon who, with his brother Andrew, was casting a net into the sea.

Once again, the stranger proclaimed the gospel, and then commanded them, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people." The stranger did not request them to consider joining him. Nor did he offer them anything in return for following him. He certainly did not tell them to go home and ask permission from their family before following. Far from it! Without any explanation, without any details, without any description of the path ahead, the stranger simply said to them, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people." What a strange thing to say!

This was the moment when the two brothers must have looked at each other and then looked back at the stranger. Their eyes met again and, without a word, they immediately put down their nets and followed him.

According to the story in Mark’s gospel, these three – the stranger and his two followers – continued the journey along the edge of the sea. A little farther along, they encountered some other men – one of whom was called Zebedee. Along with two of his sons, Zebedee and some hired men were mending the nets before going back out to fish. As he approached them, the stranger called out to the two brothers, James and John. In simultaneous but silent reply, James and John "left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him."

I have always wondered what Zebedee felt at that moment. Did he feel cheated out of his own opportunity to say "yes," or did he feel fortunate in not being called – so that he could remain home with the rest of his family? And, years later, when he talked with his sons about their experiences during their three years of travels with this stranger, what did Zebedee feel – relief or resentment?

With Zebedee and the hired men left behind at the boat, now there were five – the stranger and his four followers – continuing their journey toward Capernaum. And thus comes to end the encounter of Jesus and the fishermen who were to become his first four disciples – at least in the version first reported in Mark’s gospel.

By all accounts this is a simple story, told in the minimalist style common to the Gospel of Mark. Very few details are provided, much is left unsaid, and even more remains unexplained. Because of Mark’s distinctive approach to relating the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, we can only presume that there were other fishermen also working at the same places where the stranger encountered the four to whom he commanded, "Follow me."

Don’t you agree that this story, as presented in Mark’s Gospel, is hard to accept? It is far too simplistic. No one questions the stranger making such bold proclamations. There are no protests from fathers, mothers, and other family members. After all, "prophets" were a dime-a-dozen in those days, proclamations for repentance were widespread, even the one known as John the baptizer had been arrested by the Roman authorities. As they walked away from their families to follow this unknown man, just what were these four fisherman thinking?

Today, this story challenges us still. How can we – living as we do some twenty centuries and half a world away from that moment on the edge of the Sea of Galilee – understand what took place so long ago and so far away? How can we – living as we do in a consumer society that commands us to buy our way into personal and national debt – appreciate that those who followed Jesus could, in the words of Martin Luther, "Let goods and kindred go" (from stanza 3 of "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God")? How can we – living as we do in time of extreme individualism and self-interest – comprehend the decisions of some fisherman to "fish for people"?

Maybe this is easy for you, but it is hard for many of us to grasp. Most of us are too averse to taking chances to contemplate such a transformation in our lives. My mother is fond of saying, "When the ruts get so deep that you can’t see the horizon, then you have been traveling along the same path too long."

What Jesus said to the fishermen was meant to transform their lives. In following him, and leaving behind goods and kin, they made a radical commitment to the unknown. Without saying a word, they trusted the stranger with their futures. And their time with Jesus became a very special time, indeed.

When Jesus declared that "The time is fulfilled" he did not have in mind what the Greeks called chronos or ordinary time. On the contrary, Jesus was speaking of kairos, a special kind of divinely allocated time. Here in verse 15 in the first chapter of Mark’s gospel, which most scholars believe was the first written among the four gospels, we encounter the first occurrence of kairos – in the phrase "the time is fulfilled." Thus, this phrase is not about the sands of time running their ordinary course, but instead indicates that divinely appointed time is upon us.

This takes me back to the beginning of our story. Remember my opening question: "Have you ever done something without thinking about the consequences?" When Jesus commanded the brothers Simon and Andrew and the brothers James and John to follow, they did so without a moment’s hesitation. They did not stop to think about the consequences for themselves or for their families and friends. This is not to say that they made irrational, emotional decisions. No, I think that they simply followed Jesus, without conscious calculation and without heart-felt emotions.

What about us? Are we prepared to follow Jesus, without saying a word, without rational calculations, and without a welling up of our emotions?

These days, what does it mean to follow Jesus anyway, anyhow, anywhere?

Jesus’ proclamation on this point is very clear: "repent, and believe in the good news" (Mark 1:15). And the good news is that Jesus brings the future kingdom into the present moment, whether the present moment was in the first century along the edge of the Sea of Galilee or the present moment is in the twenty-first century along the edge of the Trinity River in Dallas, Texas. Then, as now, the time is fulfilled.

For us, as it was for the disciples of the first century, the time to follow Jesus is upon us. The time to lay aside goods and kin is upon us. Repent and believe in the good news, for the time is now. Amen.

© 2005 Van Kemper (e-mail: rkemper@trinitypresdallas.org)