Thought for the week - 4 May 2025

The setting is familiar, the Sea of Galilee, a place that echoes with memories of the disciples’ first call. Yet now, they are in a very different situation. The risen Christ has appeared to them, and still, they seem unsure of their next steps. Peter, perhaps reflecting on his denial of Jesus, returns to what he knows best, fishing. The others join him, but their efforts yield nothing. It’s in this moment of fruitless labour, when the night seems longest and the nets are still empty, then at that moment, that the risen Lord appears on the shore.

And isn’t that often the way with us too? It’s often when we most feel like giving up, when work is getting us nowhere, when relationships are strained or faltering, when health is failing or finances feel stretched to breaking, it’s in those quiet, weary spaces that Christ draws near. Not in the glare of certainty or strength, but in the soft light of dawn, on the shoreline of our lives, when we are most aware of our need.

Reading this Gospel takes me back to my first year of ordination as a Deacon. My theological college, St Stephen’s House had arranged a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and one morning, we too set out on a replica fishing boat to sail the waters of Galilee. It was an unforgettable experience… the waves lapping gently at the shore, the silhouettes of the hills that have stood unchanged for centuries, and the sense of, in this case, sailing, where the disciples once had.

At the end of our time on the water, we gathered on the shore for a fish breakfast. Sitting there, we read this very scene from John’s Gospel. What struck me was the timelessness of it all. The landscape remains largely untouched, and those same hills would have witnessed Peter and the others hauling in their miraculous catch… a moment when exhaustion gave way to abundance, and failure turned to fulfilment.

Our New Testament tutor reflected on the words of a theologian called Albert Schweitzer and his well-known phrase: “He comes to us as one unknown.” Words inspired by our Gospel, and are taken from the closing lines of his seminal work ‘The Quest of the Historical Jesus’. His phrase reminds us that just as the disciples on the shore of Galilee initially failed to recognise the risen Lord, so too are we often slow to recognise Christ’s presence in our own lives. Yet, like the disciples, we are invited to discover Him afresh, not as a distant figure of history, but as the living Lord who meets us in the ordinary, everyday moments and calls us to deeper relationship.

And so the call to follow is not a one-time event, it is a continual process of renewal, of returning to Christ, especially when we feel lost or uncertain. Discipleship is not about having all the answers, but about remaining faithful to the Lord who calls us. Like Peter, we may falter, but Christ’s grace restores and renews us, equipping us to begin afresh.

For me, this Gospel is a story of fresh starts, something we all need from time to time. For Peter, this moment was deeply personal. After his threefold denial, he is given the opportunity for a threefold affirmation of love. ‘Do you love me?’ Jesus asks, not to condemn, but to restore. This speaks of a moment of healing, where the risen Christ reaches into Peter’s heart, not to dwell on failure but to renew his sense of purpose... ‘Feed my sheep.’

For us, too, Christ offers fresh starts. There are times in life when we feel like the disciples, returning to old routines, uncertain of the way forward. Perhaps it’s the weariness of daily struggles, anxiety, the slow mending of a fractured relationship, or the quiet ache of feeling adrift. But Christ comes to meet us in those moments… not only offering forgiveness, but the grace to keep going, to begin again.

Think of the times in our own lives when we’ve needed a fresh start: the first day in a new job after the old one ended in disappointment, the patient, the hope-filled act of trying again after failure, the long, slow work of rebuilding trust after words were spoken in haste. These moments mirror Peter’s encounter with Christ… reminding us that we are never beyond the reach of God’s renewing love.

For the early Church, this Gospel would have resonated deeply. In Acts, we see the apostles boldly proclaiming the risen Christ, even in the face of persecution. Their courage and conviction is rooted not in their own strength, but in their encounter with the Risen Lord… the same Christ who had met them, in their weakness, by the lakeside, and commissioned them to continue His work. For the early Church, this was a genuine, living source of hope, assuring them that their efforts, however small or humble, were part of a much larger plan.

Today’s Gospel invites us to recognise Christ’s presence in the ordinary. Just as He met the disciples on the shore, He meets us in the familiar rhythms of life… in the beauty of creation, in the kindness of a friend, or the quiet strength of a whispered prayer. The resurrection is not just an event to remember, but a reality to live. The Risen Christ continues to come to us, often in ways we least expect.

Here at St. Stephen’s, the Eucharist is our ‘shoreline’… the meeting place where human need and God’s grace touch. Here, at the altar, Christ feeds us with His very self, and sends us out, once again, to be His witnesses in the world. And just as those hills around Galilee remain unchanged, so too does Christ’s love endure, offering us the ability to begin again, again and again.

As we reflect on this Gospel in the days ahead, let’s hear Christ’s invitation to cast our nets once more… even if the night has been long, even if the nets feel empty. Let’s embrace the fresh starts He offers, and follow Him with renewed hearts and minds. Amen.