Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Gone Fishing

We sit inside this leaky boat, our feet, a soggy mess.

And think "Just where the fish have gone, is any body's guess".

The entire night, a waste of time, not one fish to our name.

Our stomachs growl from emptiness, our purses are the same.

What will we do for daily bread? the Master, He would know.

No need to sit out here and sink, toward the shore we'll go.

In the distance, an eerie glow, a campfire on the shore.

We wondered who had built it...someone whom we owe more?

The sky, it lightens with the dawn, and on the shore, a man.

He beckons for us to draw near shore, and meet Him if we can.

He looks a bit familiar...but wait...it cannot be.

He's dead and gone, laid in a tomb...what is wrong with me?

As we near shore, He speaks aloud, "Children; have ye any meat?"

I answered "NO!" in disgust, slowly rising from my seat.

He says to cast our nets again; this time on the right.

What's one more cast to desperate men, who failed the entire night?

The net was in the water, weary arms began the draught.

It wasn't even sensible, goes against all we've been taught.

The weight of fish tore at our net...wonder filled our eyes.

Never was a catch so great, for multitude or size.

The boat sank lower with each pull, our spirits soared on wings.

Was this man more than He seemed?..How could He know such things?

John exclaimed, "It is the Lord!" confusion ruled his mind.

Franticly, I searched the boat, no garment could I find.

The shame of nakedness held me back, until my garb I found.

Putting it on, and over the side, shoreward was I bound.

The others brought the boat to ground, hauling the net behind.

Just in time to hear Him say, "Children; come and dine."

No one spoke in recognition, Jesus then broke bread.

And after the meal was finished, came the moment which I dread.

Guilt was plainly on my face, remorse my heart did seize.

Then Jesus asked me "Peter; do you love me more than these?"

"YEA, my Lord! I love thee, more than any man."

Jesus looked deeply into my eyes; "Peter, feed my Lamb."

Thrice in all the question came; thrice I answered "YEA!"

Once for each denial, then the guilt just vanished away.

"Feed my sheep!...Feed my sheep!...His instructions seemed unclear.

But time would reveal a disciple's fate, as destiny drew me near.

At a fire of comfort I had denied Him and swore into its flame.

Today His fire feeds your soul and brands you with His name.

His Spirit's fire purifies your hearts and warms a growing need.

Forgiven Shepherd that I am, His flock, I gladly feed.

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