It was A Suddenly.
One day a Fisher man was doing the hard work of hauling nets in the Galilean Sea, the next day he was doing the hard work of following.
Simply because he was invited.
Come. Follow Me.
These words precipitated The Suddenly for the Fisher man who up until this divine invitation, was accustomed to the one thing he knew how to do… which, of course, was fishing.
Instead of the spontaneity of wind and waves, he now lives in the spontaneity of a harlot wincing at the thud of a dropped but un-thrown rock; of a child receiving back her breath; of a lame man’s friends ripping apart a roof for a healing.
Instead of inhabiting the wide openness of the sea, the Fisher man rubs shoulder and hip within the confines of the rabble, some pushing and shoving, some flailing and foaming, one reaching reaching reaching for a healer’s hem.
This Fisher man who knows the utility of a tied rope and a lifted sail, will witness the poetry of deliverance when a man drops chains for real and his mind is set on a right course.
He, this Fisher man, is out of his comfort zone and it is on land where he must learn to sink or swim.
All because the One who called him that day on the beach. Come. Follow. Me.
Did the Fisher man know the routine was about to change?
Did he have any idea what following Jesus would mean to his timetable?
I, too, am answering a call, and because of that my routine of life has taken a different course and I am learning to dance the dance of adjustment.
I am following, but there are still places where I grope and have to feel my way through.
I may not have nets to lay aside, but there are fences I must cross.
It is a grace thing.
Every morning there is a new mercy.
What is the most amazing thing to me is when the He brings forth a clear day. One with bridges.
He knows me so well.
He is not put off by my sinking.