Based on sermon delivered by Rev. Joyce Rodgers
February 22, 2026
Gordonsville UMC / Barboursville UMC (online)
Luke 5:1–11
Last week we entered the season of Lent—a season of preparation. Lent is not primarily about giving things up for the sake of spiritual toughness. It is about dying to self so that we might rise more fully into Christ. It is a journey. And like every meaningful journey, it changes us.
This year, our Lenten series follows the life of Peter. If ever there were a disciple with a wandering heart, it was Peter. Bold and fearful. Faithful and impulsive. Courageous and inconsistent. Peter’s story is not polished. It is human. And that is precisely why it is hopeful.
We begin in Luke 5 with Peter doing something ordinary—working.
He has fished all night and caught nothing. The nets are empty. The exhaustion is real. The disappointment is familiar. Anyone who has worked hard and seen no results understands that moment. He is not seeking a spiritual awakening. He is cleaning his nets and heading home.
And then Jesus gets in the boat.
Peter does not go looking for Jesus that morning. Jesus comes looking for Peter. This is the quiet theological heartbeat of the story: grace initiates. Before Peter confesses, before he follows, before he understands—Jesus seeks him.
After teaching from the boat, Jesus tells Peter to go back out into the deep water and let down the nets again. It makes no professional sense. Peter knows fishing. Jesus is a carpenter-turned-preacher. Yet Peter goes.
And the nets fill.
They fill beyond reason. Beyond expectation. Beyond capacity. The boats nearly sink under the weight of abundance.
But here is the surprise: Peter does not celebrate first. He does not shout with joy about the profit margin. Instead, he falls at Jesus’ knees and says, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”
Why?
Because the miracle reveals more than fish. It reveals holiness.
In that moment, Peter realizes he is not simply in the presence of a skilled teacher. He is in the presence of the Holy One. Like Isaiah in the temple crying, “Woe is me,” Peter becomes acutely aware of his own insufficiency.
Abundance exposes emptiness.
And yet—Jesus does not step away.
Jesus does not confirm Peter’s fear. He does not say, “You’re right, you’re not worthy.” Instead, he says, “Do not be afraid.”
Grace interrupts shame.
Then comes the invitation: “From now on, you will be catching people.”
Peter leaves the nets. He leaves the boat. He leaves the fish—the very abundance he likely longed for hours earlier. Why? Because he has encountered something greater than provision. He has encountered Presence.
This is the turning point of discipleship. The story is not about fish. It is about participation. Jesus could have filled the boat without Peter. But discipleship is not passive. It is being drawn into the work of God.
Lent invites us into that same movement.
Most of us are not standing on a shoreline waiting for a call. We are at work. In meetings. In kitchens. In carpools. In ordinary routines. And that is precisely where Jesus shows up.
Peter did not meet Jesus in the temple that morning. He met him in his workplace. In his exhaustion. In his failure.
Jesus is not confined to sanctuaries. He steps into boats.
The hymn “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” includes the line, “Jesus sought me.” That is not poetic exaggeration—it is biblical truth. From the garden where Adam and Eve hid, to the shoreline in Galilee, Scripture tells the story of a God who seeks.
Even when we are not listening.
Even when we are distracted.
Even when our nets are empty.
Peter’s wandering heart was sought before it was surrendered.
And when surrender came, it reordered everything.
This does not necessarily mean abandoning careers or families. But it may mean surrendering control. It may mean recognizing that the things we thought were ultimate are not. It may mean stepping into deeper water when it feels inefficient or uncomfortable.
The same voice that said to Peter, “Do not be afraid,” still speaks.
Lent is our invitation to listen.
To notice where Jesus has stepped into our boat.
To allow holiness to expose what is empty in us.
And to trust that the One who seeks us is also the One who sustains us.
The nets may be empty. Or they may be overflowing.
Either way, Jesus is there.
And he is still seeking.
