A Guest Post from Our Friend, Danette Thrush:
I do not like the cycling and spiraling adrenaline rush and crash of shock, trauma and grief.
Peter is experiencing all these when he goes fishing in John 21. Total trauma. From others. From himself.
Peter's buddies, experiencing the same, tag along.
Muscle memory takes care of the fishing tasks, but can't shut off Peter's mind. He's hyper-processing an arrest he couldn't prevent, accusations he vehemently denied, crucifixion horrors he witnessed with all five senses, the debilitating grief of separation from Jesus for a dark-dead weekend, then the shock of seeing him alive again, but not knowing where he went, what this means, what to do, or where to go.
Peter hits the open water with his fishing gear and a tormented mind that keeps reliving the events of the past two weeks, traumatizing him again. All night long.
"Early in the morning (after their fruitless night of fishing,) Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus." John 21:4
Jesus shows up.
"He called out to them, 'Friends, haven't you any fish?'" John 21:5
"'No,' they answered."
Jesus invites conversation with his question, one that has the disciples openly admitting the fruitlessness of all their efforts.
"He said, 'Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.'" John 21:6
When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.
Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, 'It is the Lord!'"
Jesus blesses in a way that reveals to Peter and the others who He really is.
"As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, 'It is the Lord,' he... jumped into the water." John 21:7
Jesus means more to Peter than the haul in his nets.
"When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread. Jesus said to them, 'Bring some of the fish you have just caught... Come and have breakfast.'" John 21:9,12
The whole encounter is an invitation drawing them near to be with Him again, to talk with Him again, and to follow Him still.
Jesus, you show up in our trauma places, inviting conversation with your questions to our souls.
You bless again, after long seasons of our own fruitless effort, revealing to us who you really are.
You turn all of it into holy invitations to whole new encounters with you, drawing us near.
You mean more to us than the blessings you give, and you let us realize this right in the middle of the net-full-of-splashy-fish moments as they unfold.
You gift us places to let go, jump in, choose you, and express how much you mean to us, so that we will know it too.
You invite us to follow you. Again. Still. Always. Forever.
Oh, Jesus. We do.