ANDREW

John 21: 1-14 

I'm chilled to the bone, tired, starving, my back aches, my legs ache, my arms ache, in fact every muscle in my body aches and for what?

 

It's been the worst of nights, there's not been a sniff of a fish. All that effort and we've not caught one lousy fish, not one, even though we've fished right through until dawn. When Peter suggested hitting the boats again I was all for it. I was ready to do something familiar, something I could understand. I wish I hadn't bothered.

 

And now, as if it isn't bad enough, some joker on the shore, who thinks he knows how to fish - even though he's probably never been in a boat in his life - is shouting that we should lower the net on the other side of the boat. As if we've not done that already.

 

I'm all set to shout back something unrepeatable when I realise that the others have taken him at his word and are heaving the net back into the water. Well either they're mad or I am and I don't think it's me.

 

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that it's not until Peter shouts, “Come on Andrew, give us a hand with the net, we're struggling here,” that I glance round and see the shining, writhing mass of fish. It looks like the best catch we've had in years, and my mouth drops so far open that I could be mistaken for a fish myself. 

 

But I still don't catch on. It's not until John says, “It is the Lord,” that I finally get it. That 'joker on the shore who's never been in a boat in his life' is Jesus. I do feel a fool. I hope he didn't know what I was thinking.