A Devotion for the Familiar
It must have been dark that night as Peter and the others gathered on the shore of the lake. Confusion was probably the common feeling among the disciples; they had just watched their friend and rabbi be crucified. Three days later they watched as their friend walked among them again, alive. Darkness and confusion and resurrection, a new reality altogether.
I can understand why Peter would want to return to the familiar during such a time. To push the heavy boat into the lapping water, climb aboard, and stretch the sun-bleached nets out for a catch of fish. When confusion reigns, our routines tie us to something stable. To fish would be the simplest thing for Peter and the others, letting muscle memory take over, their hands working as their minds turned over the events of the previous few days.
When things are dark and uncertain, returning to something familiar can be what grounds us.
I think of the survivors after a storm, gathering in a church kitchen to cook. Doing the familiar to provide not only sustenance, but normalcy. The teacher setting up a classroom in an empty storefront. The church members worshipping wherever they can gather and sing and pray.
Jesus finds his friends on the beach, doing the familiar, grasping for normal.
And in the normal, in the repetitive familiar routine, the disciples find abundance. 153 fish to be exact.
Surely, Jesus could have shown up without that many fish, right? His presence with his friends would have been adequate.
But what good is the incarnation, what power does the resurrection have if it doesn’t bring with it abundance? What good is grace if it doesn’t bring with it abundant life – nets of fish, barrels of wine, death overturned, and life eternal?
What good is the resurrection if we can’t hear or see or smell or taste it?
Jesus’ disciples, in the midst of the familiar, lift their eyes to the shore, and are met with abundance of the resurrection: the living Christ, ready to nourish their weary hearts and bodies.
May it be for us, and for any who find themselves going through the motions of the familiar in the midst of heavy darkness. May we lift our eyes and find the living Christ, ready to eat with us, to come and see what’s next.
In Easter joy,
Chaplain Amy
When things are dark and uncertain, returning to something familiar can be what grounds us.
I think of the survivors after a storm, gathering in a church kitchen to cook. Doing the familiar to provide not only sustenance, but normalcy. The teacher setting up a classroom in an empty storefront. The church members worshipping wherever they can gather and sing and pray.
Jesus finds his friends on the beach, doing the familiar, grasping for normal.
And in the normal, in the repetitive familiar routine, the disciples find abundance. 153 fish to be exact.
Surely, Jesus could have shown up without that many fish, right? His presence with his friends would have been adequate.
But what good is the incarnation, what power does the resurrection have if it doesn’t bring with it abundance? What good is grace if it doesn’t bring with it abundant life – nets of fish, barrels of wine, death overturned, and life eternal?
What good is the resurrection if we can’t hear or see or smell or taste it?
Jesus’ disciples, in the midst of the familiar, lift their eyes to the shore, and are met with abundance of the resurrection: the living Christ, ready to nourish their weary hearts and bodies.
May it be for us, and for any who find themselves going through the motions of the familiar in the midst of heavy darkness. May we lift our eyes and find the living Christ, ready to eat with us, to come and see what’s next.
In Easter joy,
Chaplain Amy
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