This story is reflected in both the gospels of Mark and Matthew, using the familiar phrase, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.” While three of the gospels record the calling of the first disciples similarly, Luke is the only gospel that adds the story of the miraculous catch. This key difference is significant to determine the meaning of today’s text.

B. Introduction: Luke 5:1-11

Scholars agree that the gospel of Luke and the book of Acts were written by the same person; and, more significantly, as one literary work. The book of Acts is the story of how the early church was born and grew, and it is abundantly clear that Luke constantly shaped his gospel and the stories of Jesus in such a way that it anticipates the story of the church in Acts. This fundamental insight helps us understand today’s story, the calling of the first disciples, as an allegory for the calling of the church. Since the disciples are the foundation of the church, clearly, Luke is illustrating that just as there was a great catch of fish that awaited the disciples, there is also a great catch of people that awaits the church. The disciples mission would be the mission of the church…to be fishers of people. In other words, each of us is called to be fishermen and fisherwomen, and the good news is that a great catch still lies ahead!

So why does it seem like so few people are being caught for Jesus today? If the catch is great, why is it that our church roles are not overflowing, and the worship sanctuaries are not filled to the brim, and that our church budget is constantly lacking funds, and that there seems to be so much bickering within the church? Are being Jesus’ fishermen really one of St. Stephen’s priorities?

B. FISHING TRIP

When Max Lucado was in high school, his family used to go on a fishing trip every year during Spring break. One year, his brother and mom couldn’t go, so Max invited a good friend, Mark, to join him and his dad.

As the trip drew near, they became so excited that they could almost smell the fish frying in an open skillet over the open fire.

Finally the day came and they set out for the lake. Arriving late at night, they unfolded the camper and went to bed—dreaming of tomorrow’s day in the sun. But during the night, an unseasonably strong norther blew in. It got cold fast! The wind was so strong that they could barely open the camper door the next morning. They sky was gray. The lake was a mountain range of white-topped waves. There was no way they could fish in that weather.

“No problem,” they said. “We’ll just spend the day in the camper. After all, we have Monopoly. We have Reader’s Digest. We all know a few jokes. It’s not what we came to do, but we’ll make the best of it and fish tomorrow.”

Although the hours passed slowly, they did pass. Night finally came, and they crawled into the sleeping bags dreaming of the next day’s catch. But, it wasn’t the wind the next morning that made the door hard to open--it was the ice!

They tried to be cheerful as they played Monopoly…again; reread the stories in Reader’s Digest; and retold the same tired jokes. But as courageous as they tried to be, it was obvious that some of the gray had left the sky and entered the camper.

Max began to notice a few things about his good pal Mark that he hadn’t noticed before. He noticed that Mark was a bit too cocky about his opinions. He was easily irritated and constantly edgy. Even though his socks did stink, he didn’t think it was Max’s business to tell him about it.

Max even began to see his dad in a different light too. When Max mentioned to him that the eggs were soggy and the toast was burnt, he invited Max to try his hand at the portable stove. “Touchy, touchy,” Max said to himself. “Nothing like being cooped up in a camper with someone to help you see his real nature.” It was a long day. It was a long, cold night.

When they awoke the next morning to the sound of sleet slapping the canvas, they didn’t even pretend to be cheerful. They were flat out grumpy. Mark became more of a jerk with each passing moment forcing Max to wonder why he even considered inviting him in the first place. Max’s dad couldn’t do anything right which made Max wonder how someone so irritable could have such an ‘even-tempered’ son. They sat in misery the whole day, their fishing equipment still packed up.

The fourth day was even colder…. “We’re going home” were Max’s father’s first words. No one objected.

Max learned a valuable lesson that week as he wrote about it in his book, “In the Eye of the Storm.” His lesson was not about fishing, but about people and the church:

‘WHEN THOSE WHO ARE CALLED TO FISH, DON’T FISH--THEY FIGHT.

When energy intended to be used outside is used inside, the result is explosive. Instead of casting nets, we cast stones. Instead of extending helping hands, we point accusing fingers. Instead of being fishers of the lost, we become critics of the saved. Rather than helping the hurting, we hurt the helpers.

The result? Split churches. Poor testimonies. Broken hearts. Legalistic wars.’ Whining. Complaining. Finger-pointing. Despondency. Anger. Grumbling. And, longing for the way things USED to be…

WHEN THOSE WHO ARE CALLED TO FISH, DON’T FISH--THEY FIGHT.

And sadly, the poor go unfed; the confused go uncounseled, and the lost go unreached.

WHEN THOSE WHO ARE CALLED TO FISH, DON’T FISH--THEY FIGHT.

Would you characterize St. Stephen that way? At times, I would say yes. Let’s be honest. Let’s put our cards on the table, and stop ignoring what is going on in St. Stephen.

I have been serving in a church for nearly 14 years, and I have never experienced anything like I have in the past year here at St. Stephen. Every committee meeting, every church council, every ministry planning session, every hallway discussion, every remark about mission work, every discussion about leaky roofs, new chairs, transportation, newsletters, …everything…has been dominated and overshadowed by a single question—not whether or not God is calling us, but ‘Do we have the money?’ Each time, the conversation spirals downward and darkly into a painful recitation that ‘people don’t give enough,’ ‘this ministry is more important than that ministry,’ ‘as long as I get what I need;’ and ends in a downright deplorable solution that we ‘need more members.’ We should be ashamed of ourselves!

WHEN THOSE WHO ARE CALLED TO FISH, DON’T FISH--THEY FIGHT.

The truth is, we don’t have a financial problem at St. Stephen really. We have a ‘fishing’ problem. Last year, you gave nearly $1.2 million dollars to the ministries of this church. That doesn’t even count what you gave to the building fund, nor any other special gifts. We don’t have a financial problem; we have a fishing problem.

You see, we are called to fish. Each one of us are called to tell the hope-filled story of Jesus to a hope-less world. When we focus on meeting the needs of the world, we don’t have time to bicker, complain, whine, or even argue. Our issues do not really seem that overwhelming compared to the homeless problem in Charlotte, the hunger problem in Africa, the AIDS pandemic, and the children right here in our community that need someone to tell them that they are loved. Every one of us are fishermen and fisherwomen for Jesus. We are to be out serving the poor, feeding the hungry, comforting the sick, caring for the lonely, and loving our neighbor. Our own piddly gripes and complaints about the church and each other are signals that we aren’t fishing anymore--our selfless-ness has given way to selfish-ness…and we end up fighting.

This year, we have an ambitious budget of roughly 1.3 million dollars, and we certainly have had to make some serious cuts into some ministries in order to get it to that point because there is so much that we want to do. We have an awesome youth and children’s facility that needs to be paid off and we have incredible plans to enhance modern worship, grow traditional worship, reach out to our neighbors, start after school programs, improve our discipleship ministries, fight world-wide hunger, and provide a recreation ministry that invites untold numbers into our facility. Our church is poised and ready to go fishing, but somehow we allow the storms of life to drive us ‘indoors.’

I recently visited a modest church in Cherokee, NC a few months ago and discovered a passion for fishing that was contagious. They built a barracks on their property to temporarily house the homeless, they go on mission trips to cut wood in Virginia, and they work hard to battle a growing alcoholism problem among the Cherokee people…and, most significantly…they have no money. They have a hard time paying their pastor, the light bill, and even their apportionments. But they have a spirit of fishing like I have never seen. Their stories do not dwell on what they don’t have or even what they want to do; but how God has used them to make a difference in someone’s life. Now, that’s fishing!

Did you know that within 5 miles of this church, right now, 35% of the households are sitting in front of their TV’s, sleeping, exercising or reading the newspapers? Whatever they might be doing, they are not here, and apparently, no one is fishing for them by inviting them to church and a glorious relationship with Jesus Christ.

WHEN THOSE WHO ARE CALLED TO FISH, DON’T FISH--THEY FIGHT.

It’s time we take our calling as fishermen seriously. If you are a Christian, you are a fisherman. There are no excuses. God has uniquely equipped you with all the fishing gear you need: A story. Your story of how you know Jesus. Your story of how the God that created the universe touched you and transformed you. Your story of how the Holy Spirit found a way to open your eyes to a better life as a disciple of Jesus Christ that gives you great joy, hope, and purpose. You know how to fish.

You know how to fish. Fishing is nothing more than boldly casting our ‘God stories’ into the world…by the words we say, deeds we do, and priorities we make; and allowing God to transform lives.

Tony Campolo tells the story of two of his students: a brilliant, articulate neo-Marxist atheist who found himself rooming with a committed, yet non-intellectual Christian at Cornell University for graduate work. The neo-Marxist loved to argue, and he was formidable and convincing. Surely, the less intellectually competent Christian would be gradually overwhelmed.

A year and a half later, the neo-Marxist had become a Christian. Upon asking how that was possible, the neo-Marxist told an amazing story:

“I ALWAYS won the arguments,” the ex-atheist said. “It seemed like every evening I would give him an array of good reasons why religion in general was ludicrous, and how the belief that Jesus was the incarnation of God was untenable. But at the end of every argument, after I had won the confrontation decisively, my roommate would always say, ‘But I know that Jesus is real. I know that Christ is alive. I sense his presence. I have experienced a sense of his leading in my life. You may have won the arguments, but you cannot undo what I know to be true: Jesus is alive in me.’

“What could I say to that? Sooner or later my attacks were no match for his defense. How could I unconvince him of something so obviously real in his life?

The Good News is: WHEN THOSE WHO ARE CALLED TO FISH, FISH--THEY FLOURISH.

Nothing handles gripes like a service project, nothing restores perspective than to visit a hospital ward, nothing unites a church like a common mission, nothing overcomes budgeting woes than to go fishing…together.

WHEN THOSE WHO ARE CALLED TO FISH, FISH--THEY FLOURISH.

God has touched your life. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Sure your mom may have made you come, or you felt guilty because you hadn’t been in a while, or some other reason…but God found a way for you to be here today…to hear this message. God has called the church and called each of you…to go fishing. So go. Fish. Tell your stories, and flourish. You might be as amazed as the early disciples were…the catch might indeed be great.


Lucado, “In The Eye of the Storm: A Day in the Life of Jesus.” Word Publishing: Dallas, 1991, pp. 55-58.

McLaren, Brian D. and Tony Campolo, “Adventures in Missing the Piont: How the culture-controlled church neutered the gospel.” Zondervan: Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2003, pp. 99-101.