Luke 5:1-11, Isaiah 6:1-8

Nets breaking and boats sinking; the mention of these two images is enough for me to recall today’s gospel story–the calling of the first disciples in Luke’s gospel. The crowd of spectators and the men scrambling to haul in the fish awaken the senses. Jesus is well into his ministry in Galilee. Though not welcomed in his own home, Jesus has healed people suffering from demons and diseases and delivered a sermon in the synagogue.

It is noteworthy that Jesus recruits his first disciples in the midst of their workplace –the Sea of Galilee. The call to follow Jesus might occur for some people in a place of worship, but clearly that is not a requirement. The men are washing their nets after a night of unsuccessful fishing. There is nothing outstanding about the setting until Jesus appears. He has been healing and teaching and at the center of his ministry is his Word, and the calling of the disciples continues this theme. He teaches the crowd from the boat and then tells Peter to put out his nets into the deep water. Peter trusts Jesus’ words, albeit a little begrudgingly, and lets down the nets, against all reason. 

Reason probably told Peter, an experienced fisherman, that Jesus’ instructions were foolish. The best place and time to catch fish is near the shore in the morning or evening, yet Jesus commands Peter to cast the nets into the deep waters at midday and Peter obeys. Peter knew enough about Jesus’ ministry to be open to possibilities. And Jesus provides an abundance of fish after a night of empty nets. Abundance and new life accompany the Word in Jesus’ work in Galilee. Scrambling in the boat, the first disciples get a glimpse of Jesus’ power. He is obviously more than just a savvy fisherman.

There is a famous saying, God does not call the equipped. God equips the called. I have heard this week’s call stories compared to a conversation between Frodo and Gandolf in Lord of the Rings. Frodo says, “I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.” Gandolf replies, “So do all who live to see such times, but it’s not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” 

What further strikes me this week about both of these call stories is the fear and awe. I don’t know if we expect God to show up in our lives that way anymore. Maybe we are okay with some awe. It’s part of why those of us in Southwest Idaho make our way to the Sawtooths or Long Valley up by McCall or Shoshone Falls or the Oregon Coast. We want to experience the awesome works of the creator. 

Peter’s response is more one of terror than awe, however. He prostrates himself before Jesus, begging him to depart, for he (Peter) is a sinful man. He calls Jesus “Lord,” the term for the unpronounceable name of God. The entire episode reminds us of Isaiah’s calling, where he declares: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” 

Peter is not confessing to any particular sin, but rather to his own essential sinfulness. He also confesses, for the first time, Jesus as Lord. As one theologian reminds us, “we have repeatedly seen in Luke’s Gospel those who are fearful are called to joy and newness of life: ‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’” 

I have to say that by Tuesday morning of this last week I could feel my body fill up with fear and feelings of inadequacy and just a little terror, not the terror that my life was in danger, but the terror of the holy. 

At the end of January, I stayed for a few days in Kennewick, WA. I was coming from a preaching conference in Seaside, OR and presided at an installation of our new pastor in Pasco, WA on Friday. Thursday evening, I went with another pastor at a Pasco Middle School for a community event put on by the League of United Latin American Citizens. Several immigration lawyers spoke and answered questions. 

The point when they told parents how to prepare their kids for their, the parents, possible deportation was the most sobering. Earlier that day I had tuned into a Webinar hosted by Global Refuge (formerly Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service) on how churches could help refugees already in the United States.

If you don’t know, Lutherans then had a bit of spotlight in the news last weekend. On Saturday, February 1, 2025, misinformation spread on X (formerly Twitter), falsely accusing Lutheran organizations of financial misconduct. A post from “General Mike Flynn” implied that Lutheran groups like Global Refuge and Lutheran Services in America receive excessive federal funding without transparency. Elon Musk then amplified the claim, suggesting that the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), a new government office under the current administration, was shutting down “illegal payments.” 

These allegations are false and dangerous. Lutheran organizations have faithfully served refugees, immigrants, and vulnerable communities for 85 years, using grant funding responsibly and transparently. These grants support legally admitted refugees and provide essential services, continuing a long-standing commitment to care for the most vulnerable. The organizations are not laundering money.

All of it feels quite clear to me now, a full week later, but I had not slept more than two hours Sunday and Monday nights. I kept reading news and commentary on my phone, which I know better than to do, and then I would lay on my back and start writing to our synod in my head. My head was trying to problem solve, but my heart was breaking, for refugees and immigrants and everyone who receives services from various agencies.

I tried to pray for wisdom earlier in the week, but really all I could muster on Tuesday morning was, “God, help me get through today.” And then I had this clarity that one thing had prepared me for this time. It was not my ordination. It was not my installation to the office of bishop. 

All that prepared me to follow Jesus in February 2025 was my baptism. The words I have said and hear so many times flooded back, “In baptism our gracious heavenly Father frees us from sin and death by joining us to the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. We are born children of a fallen humanity; by water and the Holy Spirit we are reborn children of God and made members of the church, the body of Christ. Living with Christ and in the communion of saints, we grow in faith, love, and obedience to the will of God.” 

Bishop, pastor, daughter, friend, board member. No name is more important than the one given to me so many years ago, “Meggan, child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”

The call is clear. In this state, country, and world, there are so many things trying to be the gospel: the gospel of purity, the gospel of prosperity, the gospel of Christian nationalism. They are stoked with fear and terror, but they are not the gospel we believe and confess. The gospel we trust is one so full of love and grace and mercy that it overwhelms us, maybe even terrifies us because it is so powerful, but it never cripples us. In the end, it sets us free.

A favorite theologian [Wengert] put it this way, “Now, Lutherans are an odd group among Christians. We hold that our relation to God is defined by grace, through faith, on account of Christ alone. That is, we don’t have to do good works to get into or stay in a right relation with God. As a result, we Lutherans have all this time on our hands that other religious folk may not. So, we help our neighbor so that we don’t get bored–or, rather, so that spontaneously, out of the joy and thanksgiving for God’s mercy toward us we turn that love toward others.” Amen!