What if there is life after love?

 

Epiphany V - February 6, 2022

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Georgetown, DE

Live-broadcast on Facebook Sirach 26:10

A few decades ago . . . . (I guess I’m old enough now that I can admit it’s been THAT many years) . . . I was on retreat and quite distraught. I felt stuck. Cornered. I really needed to move from where I was and what I was doing but for whatever reason, I felt I couldn’t.

 

My retreat director asked me what it was that I wanted to do – where I wanted to go. She asked me, “What is your heart’s desire?” So, I told her. I put into words what I’d dare not say aloud, even to myself. I poured it all out honestly along with my tears. I ended by sniffling, “But, that can’t possibly be. It’s not about what I want. It’s all about what God wants. Right?”

 

I’ll never forget the kind look in her sparkling, steel blue eyes as she stared into and then past my own eyes and asked, “What if your heart’s desire is exactly what God wants for you?”

 

What if? What if our wildest dream is not so wild? I thought of something my grandmother used to say, “The best things in life are sitting on the other side of your fear.”

 

So, knowing that, it won’t come as too much of a surprise to you to hear me say that I understand Peter’s position in this morning’s gospel from St. Luke.

 

For the Gospel nerds in church this morning, I want to point out that St. John also tells this story but places it in a different context. Luke places the story early in Christ’s ministry. John tells it as part of the resurrection stories. No matter, really. It’s Peter that catches my attention.

 

Peter wants fish. He needs the fish. Catching fish is how he makes a living, how he puts pita bread and humus and wine on the table and cares for his wife and family. But, he’s tired. Exhausted, really. He wants nothing more than to get a large net of fish to bring to market. He’s a professional fisherman and he’s done everything he knows to catch some fish, to no avail.

 

But, Jesus – the master craftsman but not a professional fisherman – says to put out into deep water. Okay, boss, says Peter – wanting the fish, of course, but afraid there would be none.

 

And then . . . and THEN . . . no sooner had they let down their nets but the net was so full of fish it was breaking. There were so many fish, one boat was not enough to contain them so they called for another boat.

 

Simon Peter –  that thoroughly relatable, flawed and faulted human being – is instantly ashamed for doubting Jesus. He fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

 

Silly Peter. He doesn’t know in this story from Luke what he does know in the story from John. Peter doesn’t yet know about the resurrection of Easter. But, you know, even in John’s version of the story, Peter doesn’t recognize the resurrected Jesus even when he’s standing right in front of him. 

 

What if . . . .  What if your heart’s desire is exactly what God wants for you?

 

Now that I’m able to talk about my decades in the church, I’ve gotten bolder about saying things out loud and from the pulpit that I only used to whisper to one or two of my trusted colleagues.

 

When I was a brand-new priest, I was called to help out at a little inner-city church in Newark, NJ and be the executive director of the AIDS resource center which operated out of the Parish Hall. The bishop told me that I would probably close the church but he had every confidence that I could write a grant to keep the AIDS center going.

 

I wasn’t entirely sure I was up to either task. I mean, the folks over at the church were small in number but strong in Spirit. And, our little AIDS resource center was in direct competition for government funding with the Health Department of the City of Newark.

 

Well, very long story made very short, I felt empowered by this gospel story and, like Peter, I let down my nets anyway. I wrote a grant for $500,000 and, to my total amazement, was awarded the money. Shortly after, during the first Easter Vigil that little inner-city church had ever celebrated, I baptized 12 souls to God and marked and sealed them as Christ’s own forever.

 

By the grace of God, the church began to rediscover its mission and began to thrive. Now, some of my colleagues were completely amazed. So much so that they found it hard to believe.

 

Some dismissed it as the new-priest version of “beginner’s luck”. Others said that it wouldn’t last – nothing ever does, I remember one brother saying that I looked at the church through rose-colored glasses – implying my naivete. One even implied that there may have been something between me and the city officials to “grease a few palms” (As if I had that kind of money!) or otherwise play a political game.

 

I remember talking to my spiritual director about it and she laughed. “That’s a very typical reaction from clergy,” she said. “They are always amazed when God wins.” And then she added something I’ve never forgotten. She said, “In my experience, many Christians – but notably some clergy – are scared to death that Easter just might, after all, be true.”

 

Stanley Hauerwas says that our culture is built on the fear of death. He thinks this explains our health care system, our economy, our government, Gold’s Gym and all the rest. I am now fond of saying that this culture is built on an even greater fear than death. We are scared to death by the threat of being raised from the dead. Resurrection scares us to death.

 

What if . . . what if your heart’s desire is exactly what God wants for you?

 

What if, as Cher once sang, there is life after love? Do you believe in life after love? Do you remember the words to that song? I keep hearing the refrain, “I can hear something inside me say, ‘I really don’t think you’re strong enough’. No! Do you believe in life after love?”

It’s hard to risk. It’s hard not to hear the voices inside telling you that you’ll fail, and then what? It’s especially hard after you fear that you are losing something you love. Or, you won’t get to do what you love. “Put out in deep water and let down your nets,” says Jesus, not a professional fisherman, to professional fishermen. What does he know?

 

I don’t know if you’ve ever had an experience like that but I can tell you, it’s disturbing. It’s disturbing because we all get comfortable with what is – with the status quo. At least with a routine, we’re safe. At least, we know what to expect. And, in that, we discover that the lower the expectation, the less difficult the work. Indeed, the less we have to work.

 

Failure, if you hang around it long enough, can actually become comfortable. Some kids in our schools have figured this out. Some teachers know who they are. And some teachers – the good ones – disturb themselves and work a little harder to disturb the kids by creating challenges for them – ones they know they can achieve – so they can taste the sweetness of success and be inspired to move out of complacency and move into achievement.  

 

What if . . .  What if there is life after love? What if your heart’s desire is exactly what God wants for you? Would you be willing to let down your nets? Would you be willing to raise your expectations? Would you be willing to be disturbed out of your complacency in order to dream the dream which God has for you?

 

I want to close with this prayer, attributed to Sir Frances Drake (believe it or not) in 1577

 

Disturb us, Lord, when
     we are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
     because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
     because we sailed too close to the shore.

 

Disturb us, Lord, when
     with the abundance of things we possess
          we have lost our thirst

          for the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
     we have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
     we have allowed our vision
     of the new Heaven to dim.

 

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
     to venture on wider seas
     where storms will show your mastery;
          where, losing sight of land,
          we shall find the stars.

 

We ask You to push back
     the horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
     in strength, courage, hope, and love.  Amen.

 

As my grandmother said, “The best things in life are sitting on the other side of your fear.”

 

Do you believe in life after love?

 

What if . . . your heart’s desire is exactly what God wants for you?

 

Amen.