
Have you ever had a moment that didn’t just encourage you, it interrupted you?
Not the kind of moment you feel for a few minutes and forget by lunchtime. I mean the kind that stops you mid-sentence, mid-plan, mid-routine, and quietly announces, “This is a turning point.” The kind where God steps into your ordinary schedule, your tired body, your complicated history and you realize you’ve been living one way, but you were made for something more.
That’s Peter in Luke 5.
He isn’t on a stage. He isn’t in a sanctuary. He’s at work. He’s doing what he knows. And he’s having the kind of night that wears you down to the bone.
He’s been fishing all night. Cold air. Wet ropes. Heavy nets. Shoulders burning. Hands raw. And worst of all, empty results. Not because he was lazy. Not because he didn’t try. But because sometimes you can do everything right and still come up empty.
Empty nets do more than stress your finances.
They stress your identity.
They mess with your confidence. They start whispering lies that sound like “wisdom”:
Maybe I’m not as good as I thought.
Maybe this is all I’ll ever be.
Maybe I’m just… stuck.
And then Jesus shows up.
Not with a lecture. Not with shame. Not with a reminder of all Peter’s rough edges. Jesus steps right into Peter’s exhaustion and asks for something simple:
“Let Me use your boat.”
Peter’s boat isn’t a cathedral. It’s a workplace. It’s a tool. It’s the space where he feels most normal, and maybe most frustrated. But Jesus doesn’t wait for Peter to get cleaned up and composed. He starts where Peter already is.
Jesus teaches from the boat, and then He says something that feels almost insulting to a professional fisherman who’s already tried everything:
“Put out into deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.”
In other words: Try again.
One more push. One more obey. One more cast. One more time trusting God when your feelings are tired.
Peter protests, because he’s human:
“Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything…”
But then comes the sentence that changes everything:
“…But because You say so, I will let down the nets.”
That’s not hype. That’s surrender.
That’s faith in work boots.
The Miracle That Exposes the Heart
When Peter obeys, the water erupts with provision. Fish surge into the net so thick and heavy it starts to tear. Partners rush over. Boats start to sink under the weight of abundance. It’s a net-breaking kind of blessing, more than he can explain, more than he can manage, more than he can take credit for.
But what happens next is the real miracle.
Peter doesn’t shout, “Look what I did!”
He doesn’t turn it into a victory speech.
He doesn’t bargain with Jesus.
He falls at Jesus’ knees and says, in essence, “Please leave… I’m not worthy.”
That’s what holiness does. It doesn’t just amaze you, it reveals you.
In the presence of Jesus, Peter becomes painfully aware of the gap between who he is and who Jesus is. The miracle doesn’t inflate his ego, it unmasks his insecurity. He sees his sin. His impulsiveness. His rough edges. His regrets. And like so many of us, he assumes the same thing:
“God can bless me… but God can’t use me.”
And Jesus answers with tenderness and authority:
“Don’t be afraid. From now on you will fish for people.” (Luke 5:10)
Then the line that still stuns me:
“So, they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed Him.” (Luke 5:11)
Jesus Doesn’t Call the Clean, He Calls the Willing
Peter’s confession is relatable because it’s honest. Many of us have said the same thing without saying it out loud:
“God, You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“God, You don’t know what I still struggle with.”
“God, I’m not consistent.”
“God, I’m not qualified.”
“God, I’ll follow You when I get it together.”
But grace doesn’t work like a job application.
Jesus didn’t come to recruit impressive candidates. He came to redeem people who know they need mercy. Peter wasn’t chosen because he was polished. He was chosen because Jesus saw what Peter couldn’t see yet: a future shaped by grace, courage, and purpose.
When Peter looked at Peter, he saw a sinner.
When Jesus looked at Peter, He saw a disciple.
A shepherd.
A leader.
A history-maker.
And that same grace is reaching for you.
God’s calling isn’t anchored to your past. It’s anchored to His promise.
Your failures may be facts, but they are not your future.
“Don’t Be Afraid” Is Not Just Comfort, It’s a Doorway
Jesus says, “Don’t be afraid,” not because Peter has no reason to fear, but because fear is the first thief that tries to steal your calling.
Fear says:
Stay in the boat.
Play it safe.
Don’t risk looking foolish.
Don’t start again, what if you fail again?
Don’t step forward, people will remember who you used to be.
But Jesus doesn’t only remove fear, He replaces it with assignment:
“From now on…”
That phrase is loaded. Jesus isn’t just speaking to Peter’s present. He’s speaking into Peter’s future. He’s drawing a line in the sand:
Your life has a new direction now.
There are seasons where God blesses you to provide for you.
And there are moments where God blesses you to call you.
Sometimes the net-breaking catch isn’t just provision, it’s an invitation:
Come closer. Follow Me. Let Me redefine you.
Leaving Everything Doesn’t Always Mean Leaving Your Job
Peter “left everything,” and yes, sometimes following Jesus involves dramatic change. But for many of us, “leaving everything” looks like leaving what has been ruling us.
Peter didn’t just leave a boat. He left an identity.
That’s what Jesus still asks us to lay down:
Leave the version of you controlled by insecurity.
Leave the need to be approved by everyone.
Leave the excuses that keep you stuck.
Leave the shame that keeps you small.
Leave the bitterness you’ve been dragging like an anchor.
Leave the comfort that’s costing you growth.
Because when Jesus calls you forward, He isn’t trying to take your life. He’s trying to give you one.
Ask yourself honestly: What is Jesus asking me to step away from so I can step into what He prepared?
For some, it’s a toxic relationship.
For others, it’s a secret habit.
For others, it’s a mindset that says, “This is as good as it gets.”
For many, it’s fear dressed up as “wisdom.”
But here’s the promise: surrender doesn’t shrink your life. It opens it.
You Are Called, Too
It’s easy to read Peter’s story and assume it belongs to “Bible people,” the super spiritual ones. But Jesus’ words to Peter remind us that calling isn’t reserved for a select few.
Every believer is called.
You may never preach behind a pulpit, but you will preach with your life.
Your patience is a sermon.
Your forgiveness is a sermon.
Your integrity is a sermon.
Your kindness is a sermon.
Your refusal to quit is a sermon.
Some of the most powerful “fishing for people” happens in everyday places: workplaces, living rooms, hospital waiting rooms, break rooms, classrooms, prison units, recovery meetings, and quiet conversations where hope is handed to someone who was ready to give up.
And just like Peter, you don’t have to be perfect to be purposeful.
You just have to be willing to follow.
A Net-Breaking Invitation
Maybe today you feel like Peter before the miracle: tired, disappointed, wondering why your effort hasn’t produced fruit.
Or maybe you feel like Peter after the miracle: overwhelmed, exposed, aware of your flaws, tempted to pull away from Jesus because you don’t feel worthy.
If that’s you, hear Jesus’ words again, not as a slogan, but as a personal invitation:
“Don’t be afraid.”
Not because you’re strong.
But because He is.
Not because you’ve never failed.
But because grace has already made room for your restoration.
And then hear the next part:
“From now on…”
God can write a new chapter from this point forward.
He can redeem what you thought disqualified you.
He can turn your story into a net that catches hope for other people.
The only question is the one Peter answered with his feet:
Will you follow?
Prayer:
Father, thank You for meeting me in ordinary places, when I’m tired, when I’m discouraged, when my nets feel empty. Thank You for being the God who steps into my boat and speaks purpose over my life.
When shame tells me to back away, remind me that Jesus draws close. When fear tells me to stay where it’s safe, give me courage to obey Your voice. I surrender what I’ve been clinging to, my insecurities, my regrets, my need for control, and every false belief that says I’m disqualified.
I receive Your grace again today. Teach me to follow You with a willing heart. Use my life to bring hope to others. Let my “from now on” be marked by faith, obedience, and joy.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

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