The Fisherman by Larry Huntsperger

again. My business partners had been gone for weeks and might now be gone forever. And worst of all, I was turning my back on the one person who could help me make sense of it all.
    Andrew was not gone long this time. Two days later he came home announcing Jesus’ return to Capernaum. James and John were also back.
    The visit to Nazareth did not go well. The people there knew Jesus as a child, and now they refused to listen to him as an adult. At one point the people of the city became so hostile to his message, they dragged him to the edge of a cliff and tried to throw him over. He escaped, however, and left town with his disciples soon after.
    With Andrew, James, and John all back home, we agreed to return to our much neglected nets early the next morning. Jesus was planning to remain at the house where he was staying in Capernaum for an extended period of time, so my three partners were willing to split their time between fishing and being with Jesus.

    When I rolled out of bed the following morning, I assumed it was going to be my first somewhat normal day in weeks. The sun was shining, the four of us were returning to our nets together, and Jesus was busy doing what he did somewhere else. I was finally back in control of my world. I had no idea it was a world Jesus would bring to an end forever with just ten words in a matter of hours.
    Andrew and I were on the beach early, fishing that morning from the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Nothing was really resolved in my life, but at least these things—the nets, the water, the fish, the work—these things I understood. James and John discovered their equipment had not been cared for well by the men their father had hired to fill in for them during their absence, so in the end they decided to spend the morning helping their father make some much needed repairs to their nets.
    Less than an hour later I saw him. He was alone, walking toward me along the beach. And that, of course, was the point—he had been walking toward me since the day we met. A part of me wanted to drop my net and run to meet him. Another part of me wanted to grab my net and run away from him down the beach. In the end I just stood there waiting. As soon as Andrew saw him, he came and stood beside me.
    When Jesus reached us no one spoke for a few seconds. Andrew just stood there with a big grin on his face, obviously thrilled to see him. I stood silent in a sort of terrified relief. I knew this was no chance meeting. For more than a month I had been running, hiding from this man, secretly hoping he would not give up his pursuit. I was tired of this horrible game, and no matter what he said to me now, at least I would not have to run anymore.
    I stood silently, staring at his feet, waiting for his words of condemnation, anticipating his demand for an explanation of why I had stayed away from him for so long.
    But the condemnation never came. He spoke just one word—“Peter!” When I looked up, I saw his smile, a smile of understanding and acceptance that instantly disarmed the terror within me. He looked first at me, then at Andrew, then at our nets and our little pile of fish. Then he said, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.”
    He knew I understood what he was asking. He knew the time had come for me to choose. He was not asking me to follow him for the morning, or for the day, or for the week. He was asking me to follow him for the rest of my life. I could not have both his world and mine . I had to choose. I didn’t know what “fishers of men” meant, but I knew it wasn’t something I could do with the net I held in my hands.
    When my decision finally came, it brought with it a sense of freedom and relief unlike anything I had ever known before. Jesus still wanted me, and I wanted him as I had never wanted anything else in my life. I wanted to be a part of whatever this man was doing. I wanted to be identified with him. I wanted to be on his