I am a born and raised Lutheran. My mother’s grandmother, Huldah Johannsen, was a Lutheran from Sweden, raised in a pietistic branch of Lutheranism. My great grandmothers faith led her to not allow my mom or her brothers out of the house until they were baptized
– my grandmother had to call the pastor over to baptize them so they could go to church.
My grandmother walked to church 3-5 days a week – for Bible study, women’s circle, Sunday school meetings, worship, and I don’t know what else. My mom and her brothers went to church every Sunday, and as I grew up, we went as a family, every Sunday (though we would leave after the anthem when there were Browns home games, my dad had priorities). My mom and I even went to the same Lutheran summer camp. I was youth group president, and declared the summer between 8th and 9th grade I wanted to be a pastor.
We never talked about faith.
I know my parents taught me now I lay me down to sleep and the Lord’s prayer at bedtime because I found it written on notecards in a baby book. It wasn’t until I became an adult I learned my father went to church because he promised God that if they got a baby, he would commit himself to God. So, when they adopted me, he was all in in his own way – Sunday service, joined the choir, served on church council.
I learned at some point my mother declares herself proudly religious but not spiritual. The few times we have talked about faith, she has told me she’s not sure about God, but she thinks people should go to church.
We never talked about faith.
For many Lutherans with European Lutheran ancestry, this not talking about faith is ancestral. Lutheranism was largely brought to the United States by Germans, Swedes, Nords, Finns. Not people known for their… effusiveness.
When European Lutherans came to the United States, as is true of many immigrants, they stayed in their ethnic enclaves, having church in their languages. Church for my grandmother and her mother and their contemporaries was as much, if not more, about remaining connected to their homeland as it was about any connection to God. This made for a great way to maintain community that was safe, that was comfortable, that *felt* welcoming to those *inside* the congregation. It was decidedly not a great mission strategy.
Lutherans, historically, are terrible at mission and evangelism. Like many other people of European ancestry, we often expect people who come into our spaces to assimilate. We tell inside jokes and use insider language like narthex, we know what all of the parts of worship mean and can be really bad at helping others understand.
Now, I have noted that Lutheranism in the southeast is not the European ethnic Lutheranism of the north. I’d be surprised if any of you knew what a Sven and Ollie joke was, there are no polka or lefse making parties after church. A lot more people who find a Lutheran church down here just happen to be at a Lutheran church because they liked that particular church, they aren’t seeking out a Lutheran church. I frequently have to explain what a Lutheran even is, or that I am not *that* branch of Lutheranism.
However, one thing I have seen from Cleveland, to Chicago, to the Pacific Northwest, to Appalachia is that many Lutherans are not good at talking about their faith - often not with each other in community, much less going out into the world and telling people that the reason we do what we do, the reason we love, the reason we give grace, the reason we are who we are is because of Jesus Christ.
There is reason for this hesitancy, and I get it. There are a whole lot of people in the world who are terribly obnoxious when it comes to talking about their faith, there are people who do real harm the way they talk about their faith, and the last thing most of us want to do is have people turn away from us – or God forbid, cause harm, by talking about our faith out there in the world and then inviting people to come and see.
That is one of the great challenges in this reading today.
This reading has Jesus tell these people that they are going to go fish for people, which, in turn, is instructive to us in how we grow our communities, and, in turn, the body of Christ. Our mission field, of course, is different. First, the obvious, the disciples had Jesus with them, and it’s a whole lot easier to bring people along the path of Jesus when Jesus is *right there with you* teaching, doing miracles and healing. These people may have no idea who Jesus is, but they have the opportunity to learn pretty quickly, from *them* all about it.
While we might encounter people who have never heard about Jesus, we are more likely to encounter indifference or even hostility to Christianity. And unfortunately, that’s not unreasonable. Which is why our actions come first, our actions of love, our giving, our kindness, our work to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. But, at some point, hopefully, people will be so taken with how we live out God’s love in the world, they might want to know where it comes from, then we can ask, then we can invite. Sometimes we don’t need to wait, we see someone in need of community, of care, of love, and we can just say hey, you wanna come to church with me?
As disciples of Jesus, we are called to become fishers of people. To cast a wide net of radical compassion and draw people in.
Now, I said this was one of the big challenges in today’s gospel reading. The other is, at least for me, far more challenging. These men had just gone a whole day without fishing, cast their nets one last time, and brought in so much fish their nets were breaking. This was a once-in-a-lifetime catch. Who knows what this could lead to. More business, maybe another boat? The word of mouth alone would be amazing! They are, suddenly, thanks to Jesus, at the top of their game, men of prosperity they had never before seen.
And they walk away.
They just had a dream of material wealth – or at least stability – fulfilled, and they walk away from it to follow Jesus.
Much modern American theology (incorrectly) teaches that power and wealth are a blessing from God as a reward for strong faith, for praying the right prayers, for doing the right things, and that Christians should keep accumulating things to show others the riches with which God rewards faith.
And yet here, these fishermen walk away.
There is a cost to following Jesus. Give up our cloak, give up our shirt, turn the other cheek, give up all the fish you just caught, give up what you have and follow me, even and up to giving our very lives. There is a cost to grace, to expansive, radical love. There is a cost to recognizing the face of Christ in everyone, to working for justice and mercy. And the reward is not a big house, or a private jet. And this does not sound like the best pitch to give when we are out in the world.
The reward is learning that we are loved, that we, like Isaiah and Simon Peter are redeemed and deemed worthy, the reward is community that loves as radically as we do, the reward is walking with Jesus. The reward is learning how to not be afraid because God is with us, it is being in a relationship with one who loves us endlessly, and walks with us as we journey through the world.
What an incredible reward it is. It is worth the cost.
