Gone Fishing Peter#1

Gone Fishing – Peter #1 – Shards from the Pot

As you stand there on the sand,

Gazing down a golden strand,

I ask you, ‘Are you conscious that upon this beach

A figure draws a crowd to hear him teach?’

And you are mending fishing nets just out of reach

Listening with half an ear: “This one can really preach!”

But what has this to do with you and

Why has he turned your way, beckoning with his hand?

He asks to use your boat: it isn’t all that grand

But still you push out just enough, though none of this was planned.

He talks at length; he holds them spellbound, each

Is listening, rapt, as though he stood there offering a golden peach.

“Push out. Push on. We’re going fishing.” “Bleach

my barnacles,” you say. “We’ve fished all night. And ne’er a catch.

Still, if you say so, Master. Now that we’re clear of land

I’ll drop the nets again. Hey, Andrew. Get this old tub manned.”

You drop the nets. The swarming waters seethe at His command.

The nets begin to break. You call your partners. This is no bland

Suggestion. Indigestion grips you. Bile rises. You fall at his knees.

“Depart from me. Lord, let me be. I’m weak and sinful. Go now, please.”

“Up. On your feet. I do not use to tease.

From now on you will catch men. These

Fish can be left behind. Up now. Stand.

And follow me, you and your merry band.”

Do you obey? Follow? Leave your fish, your family, your friends?

Walk behind the Master, listening, learning, going where he sends?

Not fish-fishing but catching men. Daring to stretch out half a hand.

Or do you sit back, navel gazing, contemplating the specific gravity of sand?

Luke 5