I'll never forget the first time I heard this hymn. It was two and a half years ago standing on the shore of the Sea of Galilee with the forty of us from Westminster and San Anselmo Presbyterian Churches. We could see the fishing boats dotting the large lake. Later in the day we actually went out in one of the boats watching two men casting out nets and pulling them in so we might understand the work and the strength required to fish during the time of Jesus. Without my realizing it at first, the rhythm of this wonderful contemporary hymn made me feel the movement of the water, gently rolling in and out from the shore, the swells of the lake gradually lifting and lowering the boat. It reminds me of my childhood and many days floating on a rubber raft or just watching the ocean along the Santa Monica beaches. For me, it's a calming, peaceful feeling that claimed me, overcame me much before I began listening to the words my fellow travelers were singing.

As we walked down toward the lake from the location now called the Mount of the Beatitudes, we could imagine the crowds closing in on Jesus as they longed for the healing that he had given to others. One story the people heard was that when he taught in the synagogue in Capernaum, he was interrupted by the shouts of a man filled with a strange spirit, maybe a demon. On Jesus' command, the spirit left the man, calming and quieting him to the surprise of everyone around. Another time, Simon's mother had been sick with a high fever but, on a word from Jesus, the illness left her and she was able to get up out of bed. Many other people who were suffering from various diseases were brought by their friends to him and healed. So, we might sympathize with him when he awoke very early one morning and headed for a quiet place to pray, alone. Unfortunately, in no time, the crowds of people started to press around him. He looked for a quick get-away and noticed the fishermen cleaning their nets where Simon's empty boat was pulled up on the shore. With Simon's help, Jesus was able to get into the boat and go out a little way into the water creating some distance from the crowd so they could all see and hear him as he spoke to them about life lived faithfully with God.

It is at this point in the story that Luke tells of a personal relationship beginning between Jesus and Simon Peter. It is the first time we are actually told of a conversation and it fills the remaining eight verses of the passage. Peter is the everyman or woman of the Bible. He endears himself to us because he often reacts to situations in a way that seems familiar to us, a way that we might also act. He could watch from the sidelines while Jesus healed his mother-in-law. He could easily give Jesus a short ride in his boat to help him out. But, when asked to go out into deep water and try again to fish after working all night long and catching nothing, Peter must have felt like Jesus was playing games with him. "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet, if you say so, I will let down the nets." Could Simon Peter really have been thinking, "Are you crazy, Jesus? You are the son of a carpenter. We are the fishermen and have spent our lives here. Do you really think there is something you know that we do not know about the fish of this lake? I'm tired and want to go home and collapse, but for you, the man who helped my mother-in-law, I will try one more time." And you know how the story goes. As Jesus watched this time, the fishermen let down their nets and pulled in so many fish, much more than they needed, two boats were filled so full that they began to sink. An epiphany moment for Simon Peter, he suddenly realized that this man was much more than a simple medicine man with magical herbs and spices or a charismatic man with a the gift of speech but truly someone who could do the impossible, who could affect his life personally, who might be God's promised Savior. In this realization, Simon was afraid to look at Jesus in the face, this man who now was not only Master, but also Lord to him. He felt foolish for not understanding this before — called himself "sinful" since he had not fully accepted who Jesus was until he had this direct experience of him. But Jesus told him, "Do not be afraid. You will leave your work, the life you have known because I have an even more important job for you." Without questioning or grieving or moaning, Simon left everything and followed Him.

This story and his experience of being at the lake himself inspired the Spanish priest Cesareo Gabarain to compose the words and music of this hymn in 1979. He was the monsignor in Madrid and the Spanish chaplain to Pope Paul VI claiming that this hymn was one of the Pope's favorites. Gabarain saw in Luke's story a longing in Simon, maybe in all people, to be loved and accepted and needed by God. He was able beautifully to craft the words and music to communicate God's desire for an intimate relationship with every human being, a willingness to meet us where we are and a sincere invitation for us to follow.

How many times have people looked through you or past you? We have come to expect it in strangers, finding it an unusually pleasant surprise when someone nods "hello" on the ferry to work or passing in the aisle at the supermarket. Sometimes even those closest to us; our family, our co-workers, our lovers look though us when we want to be, truly need to be listened to, responded to, acknowledged. The chorus of the hymn begins, "Oh Lord, with Your eyes You have searched me, And, while smiling, have called out my name." The hymn reminds us of the beautiful picture of God in the psalmist's prayer, "Lord, you examine me and know me, you know when I sit, when I rise, you understand my thoughts from afar." (Psalm 139:1) How many times have we wished that someone, just one someone, would understand us, would smile looking into our eyes and speak our name in a way that made us feel truly accepted for just the person we are. Jesus looked in the eyes of Simon in his empty boat. What did he see as Simon rowed him out into the lake to speak to the crowd on the beach? Was it a tired man who felt a failure, who may have wondered what he would tell his wife and mother-in-law when he had nothing to show, again, for a long night's work?

It is so hard for most of us to avoid basing our identity on our number of fish, our work or our income, our possessions or our titles. I know many people, mostly women but also some men, who, after ten or more years cultivating a career, chose to take a short or long-term break from it to be home with their children. Even when it is a conscious choice, it affects how we understand ourselves, how we define who we are and how we react to other people. It is a difficult transition and even harder for any adult who is out of work due to conditions beyond one's own choice or control. Yet, the hymn writer understands from Luke's passage that Jesus is "looking for neither the wise nor the wealthy…nor one who gains power from money or weapons." He asks only that we follow him with just the things we have, now. Simon responded to Jesus that he wasn't good enough but Jesus just said, "Do not be afraid. Just come and follow. We have work to do and I need you." Whether working for a high salary 60-80 hours per week, or unemployed, holding down the fort at home, or retired and enjoying grandchildren, we each have a calling, a personal invitation. Turn and respond to the one who is looking into your eyes, smiling and calling your name. We are loved and needed. All necessary tools, skills and supplies will be provided. Don't be afraid.

Can you imagine what Simon's hands must have looked like, smelled like? Men who fish with nets are big, strong men, dirty, sweaty, tired. The work is hard. It means hauling the nets, catching the fish, treating them with salt to preserve them, then selling them. The nets and sails must be mended and the boats kept in good repair. Hands are callused and rough and tired. But those hands, too, are needed. Our hymn expresses it in verse three, "You need the caring of my hands. Through my tiredness, may others find resting. You need a love that just goes on loving." Our hands are such a critically important way that we express our loving, even when they are rough and tired. Almost everything we do for others involves use of our hands, cooking building, creating, writing, operating, and especially when we touch in loving care and concern. I invite you to take a look at your own hands now. You know those hands better than anyone else. Think of the many ways that you used your hands just yesterday or even this morning. Remember the times when your tired hands expressed caring and love.

Our final verse reads, "You who have fished other oceans, Ever longed for by souls who are waiting, My dear and good friend, as thus You call me." We are lucky to be able to look out from worship at the shore of Richardson Bay that flows into San Francisco Bay which flows into the Pacific Ocean which touches Canada, Mexico, Chili, China and Japan. God knows no boundaries or differences between us. I often ride my bike or walk from Strawberry to Tiburon, then sit on the bench by the ferry and just watch and listen. All year around but especially in the summer I hear voices from countries that touch many other oceans: Atlantic, Indian, and Mediterranean Sea. The faces are so wonderful to watch smiling, pensive, peaceful, sad, human faces from all over the world. I often wonder where and to what we are called. To leave our boats on the shore might mean changing careers, moving away. However, it also can mean staying here physically but changing our priorities, our focus and remembering whose we are; who is calling our names, who is our Lord. Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Do not be afraid." As we think of what that means for our own lives, let us again sing fearlessly, the chorus of our hymn, "Lord, You Have Come to the Lakeshore."