XXXIV. The Lake of Galilee
“Jesus showed Himself again to the disciples at the Sea of Tiberias.”–JOHN xxi. 1.
“All ye shall be offended because of Me this night; for it is written, I will smite the Shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered. But after that I am risen, I will go before you into Galilee.” So had the Chief Shepherd spoken to His sad and anxious followers on the night of His betrayal. They little understood His meaning, and would perhaps have even forgotten the appointment of the rendezvous, unless it had been recalled again and yet again to their minds. But they were not allowed to forget. On the resurrection morn, the angel said to the first visitants at the empty grave: “Go your way, tell His disciples, and Peter, that He goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see Him as He said unto you.” And as they went to execute this bidding, Jesus Himself met them and said: “Be not afraid; go tell My brethren, that they go into Galilee; there shall they see Me.” The customs of the Passover Feast forbade their instant compliance with this command,
and the Master sanctioned their delay by appearing to them twice whilst they yet lingered in the metropolis. But as soon as it was possible they hastened back to the familiar scenes of their early life and of the Master’s ministry.
We cannot fathom all the reasons that led our Lord to make such special
arrangements for meeting with them in Galilee; but it was natural that He should wish to associate His risen life with scenes in which He had spent so large a part of His earthly ministry; and there the greatest proportion of His followers was gathered, and He would have the quietest and securest opportunity of meeting with the five hundred brethren at once. The disciples little thought that this was a farewell visit to their homes, and that within a few weeks they must return to Jerusalem, to stay there for a time, and then to wander forth to all lands, from the ancient Indus on the east to the far-famed shores of Tarshish on the west.
I. It was in the early part of May when they returned to Galilee. They were in evident bewilderment as to their next step. What should they do? Should they continue to lead the artificial life which they had taken up during the Master’s ministry? That seemed impossible and needless. Should they do nothing but wait? That appeared unwise when life was yet strong in them, and their means of livelihood were scant. It was of course possible to go back to fishing-smacks and fishing-tackle; but should they? And they hesitated.
But one evening came; the fragrance of thyme and rosemary and of a
hundred flowers filled the air; the lake lay dimpled in the light of the setting sun; the purple hills that stood sentinel around seemed by their very peacefulness to promise that no storm should imperil the lives of those that ventured on the blue depths. There stood the boats, yonder lay the nets, in those waters were the finny tribes; the old instinct of the fisherman arose in their hearts, and found expression on the lips of the one from whom we should have expected it. “Peter said unto them, I go a-fishing.” I see no harm in it. The Master never forbade it. He cannot mean us to loiter our time away. We cannot be preachers without Him. I shall go back to the life from
which He called me three years ago, and if it pleases Him to come again, He can find us now, as He found us once, among the fishing-tackle.
The proposal met with an instant assent: “We also go with thee.” And in a few moments Peter with six others had leaped into a boat, and they were preparing for the night’s work with all the enthusiasm with which men throw themselves into a craft which for some time they have disused. But their ardor was soon checked. Hour after hour passed. The lights went out in the hamlets and towns. The chill night damps enwrapped them. The grey morning at last began to break, whilst again and again the nets were hauled up and let down, but in vain; not a single fish had entered them. “That night they caught nothing.” Why this non-success? The night was the most favorable time! These men knew the lake well, and were experienced in their craft. They did their best, but they caught nothing! Why was this? Was it a chance? No, it was a providence; it was carefully arranged, disappointing and vexing though it was, by One who was too wise to err, too good to be
unkind, and who was preparing to teach them a lesson which should enrich them and the whole Church forever.
The failure put an arrest on their temporal pursuits. Had they been successful that night, it would have been very much harder for them to renounce the craft forever; but their non-success made them more willing to give it up, and to turn their thoughts to the evangelization of the world. Then, too, our Lord surely meant to teach them that whilst they were doing His work, whether that work was waiting or active service, it was not necessary for them to be anxious about their maintenance; He Himself would see to that, though He had, for each meal, to light a fire and prepare it Himself. And, deeper than all this, there were surely great spiritual lessons to be gained respecting the conditions of success in catching men in the net of His Gospel.
It is difficult to understand how a man can call himself a Christian, and how he can face the awful possibilities of life, except he believes that all is ruled by One who loves us with a love that is infinite, and who wields all power on earth and in heaven. If, however, that be your fixed belief, you may find it often severely tested. “I have waited this livelong night; can this be Christ’s will?” “I have done my best in vain; can this be Christ’s will?” “I have labored without a single gleam of success; can this be Christ’s will?” Yes, most certainly it is. It is His love which is arranging all, in order to teach you some of the sweetest, deepest lessons that ever entered your heart. There is not a cross, a loss, a disappointment, a case of failure in your
life, which is not arranged and controlled by the loving Saviour, and intended to teach some lesson which else could never be acquired. Fitfully, curiously, without apparent art or fixed design, is the web of our lives woven; thread seems thrown with thread at random, no orderly pattern immediately appears, but yet of all that web there is not a single thread whose place and color are not arranged with consummate skill and love.
But what good can failure do? It may shut up a path which you were pursuing too eagerly. It may put you out of heart with things seen and temporal, and give you an appetite for things unseen and eternal. It may teach you your own helplessness, and turn you to trust more implicitly in the provision of Christ. It is clear that Christians have often to toil all night in vain, that Christ may have a background black and sombre enough to set forth all the glories of His interposition.
II. In the morning Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples knew not that it was Jesus. It was customary for fish-dealers to go down to greet fishers on their return from the night’s toil, in order to buy up fish. Such a one now seemed waiting on the sand in the grey light, and His question was such as a fish-dealer might put: “Children, have you any food?” It therefore never occurred to the disciples to think that it was Jesus. And indeed, after the miracle was wrought, it was only the keen eye of love that knew Him to be the Lord. How often is the Lord near us, and we know Him not! He is standing there in the midst of scenes of natural beauty though His foot leaves no impression on the untrodden sand, and His form casts no shadow on the flowers or greensward. He is standing there in that dingy counting-house, or amid the whirr of the deafening machinery, though He fills no space, and utters no word audible to human ears. He is standing there in that home, watching the sick, noting unkindness and rudeness, smiling on the little deeds done for His sake, though none ever heard the floors creak
beneath His weight, or saw the doors open to admit His person. How much we miss because we fail to discern Him!
By acting thus He not only taught His disciples the reality of His presence, but He prepared them also for that new kind of life which they were henceforth to lead–a life of faith rather than of sense; a life of spiritual communion rather than of physical fellowship. He kept showing them that, though out of sight, He was still in their midst. By easy stepping-stones He joined Calvary and Olivet. By gentle progressive lessons those who had believed because they had seen were taught to walk by faith, not by sight, and to love One whom they did not see. And thus it came about that they trod no shore however desolate, went to no land however distant, dealt with no people however boorish, without carrying ever with them the thought, The Master is here!
But let me say here that if you would see Christ everywhere, you must be like John, the disciple of love. Love will trace Him everywhere, as dear friends detect each other by little touches that are meaningless to others. Love’s quick eye penetrates disguises impenetrable to colder scrutiny. Not for the wise, nor for the few, but for the least that love, is the vision possible that can make a desert isle like Patmos gleam with the light of Paradise itself.
III. How great a difference Christ’s directions made! Before He spoke they were disconsolately dragging an empty net to shore. The moment after He had spoken, and they had done His bidding, that net was filled with a shoal of fish so heavy that it was no easy matter to drag it behind the ship.
Great lessons await us here! We, like these, have embarked in a great fishing enterprise–we are fishers of men! Our aim is to catch men alive for Christ our Lord. For this we are ready to toil, to pray, to wait. But our success depends wholly upon our Lord. He will not give it us until we can bear it, and have learned the lesson of the night of fruitless toil. And if we are to succeed it must be in His realized companionship, and in obedience to His word.
There is a right side of the ship, and a wrong one; there is a time to plant, and a time to be still; to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. We do not know these. If we are left to ourselves, we may cast the net on the left side of the ship at the time when we should be casting it on the right, and on the right side of the ship when we should be casting it on the left. Christ alone knows, and He will teach us exactly how and when to act with the very best results.
IV. Christ’s provision for the needs of His servants. I should imagine that the disciples were somewhat anxious about their bodily needs and their supply. They did not realize that if they were doing Christ’s work, Christ would look after their real needs. Christ let them meet with non-success to show how fruitless their toil was. And in the morning, when He stood on the shore, He filled their nets with fish, and called them to fire and bread and fish, to show how easily He could supply all their need. Of course this does not apply to all promiscuously, but it does apply to those who give up time, and labor, and earthly toil, for the cause of Christ. If they are really called to the work, Christ seems to say to them: “Do the best you can for Me, and do not try in addition to make up for your time and labor by night work–you had better use the night for necessary rest; the longest night spent in unbelieving labor will not profit; but I in a single moment in the morning can more than make up to you for all you have spent.” Christ never lets us be in His debt. If we lend Him a boat for pulpit, He weighs it down to the gunwale. If we give Him time, He makes up what we have lost. If we seek first the kingdom of God and
His righteousness, He sees that all things else are added. It is vain for you to rise up early and to sit up late, to eat the bread of carefulness. He giveth His beloved when they sleep.
What delicate attentions to these men! Christ knew that they were drenched with spray, chilled with the keen air, and so He prepared a fire–so thoughtful is He of the tiniest matters that will alleviate discomfort and increase our pleasure. At the same time He is frugal of the miraculous. He will deal lavishly in miracles so long as needed, but not an inch beyond. He might have created fish enough on that fire to supply them all, but that was needless so long as a hundred fifty and three great fishes lay within easy reach; so Jesus said, “Bring of the fish which ye have now caught.”
When Peter heard John say, “It is the Lord,” true to his character he sprang into the sea and swam to shore, leaving the rest to drag the heavy net as best they could. Now he seems to remember his failure to bear his share in the toil; so he goes to the margin of the lake, lands the net, counts its contents, and examines the meshes, to find them unbroken, and then returns with fish enough to make a breakfast for them all. It was only when all this was done that Jesus said to them, “Come and dine.” Then He came forward and took the bread and fish, and gave to them. All were convinced that it was Jesus, but they were dumb with amazement and awe; they would have liked to ask questions, but they felt that they need not; their senses were convinced almost in spite of themselves. “None of the disciples durst ask Him, Who art Thou? knowing that it was the Lord.”
This, says John, was the third time that Jesus had showed Himself; not
literally the third time that He had shown Himself to any one; but the third time that He had shown Himself to the disciples assembled in any considerable number. The first time was in the evening of the resurrection day; the second, when Thomas was there; the third, in the incident here recorded.
We all need our rest times, our times of learning, our times of fellowship with Jesus. Happy are we when Jesus says, “Come and dine,” and leads us off to sup with Him in desert places! It may be in the loneliness of nature, or of the sick-bed, or of thwarted love; but, wherever it is, it is well if only He is there to feed us with His own dear hand.
The time will come when the night of this sunless world shall be over, and the morning of eternity shall break upon us; it may be that in the hour of death we shall find that our work has not been so fruitless as we feared: on the quiet beach we shall see Jesus standing and know that it is He. Then one last plunge through the chill flood, and we shall partake of the preparations which His love has made, and He will say, “Come and dine.”
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