Cast the Net Again
In the wake of awe-filled moments when God feels near, we often return to ordinary routines wondering what comes next. This sermon explores the disciples’ post-resurrection confusion and Jesus’ quiet recommissioning—an invitation to live out faith not just in the extraordinary, but in daily acts of love and service. Discipleship, we discover, means casting the net again and again, trusting that Christ meets us there.
The Glimpses of Grace podcast is a ministry of Grace Episcopal Church in Gainesville, Georgia. We are passionate about supporting the spiritual growth of souls, and we hope these sermons and conversations meet you where you are and enrich your soul as we all continue to make meaning in the world today.
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Transcript
Can you recall an intense spiritual experience?
Maybe it was in a quiet moment—when the breeze was just right… you caught the scent of fall foliage,
and something deep within you paused.
A moment, overcome with wonder, and you knew: God. Is. Here. Maybe it was a dream or a vision,
a nudge of insight that seemed to come from beyond yourself— a moment when clarity found you.
Sometimes it’s a piece of music that touches the soul,
movement, a dance that stirs something,
sitting in an audience or performing on a stage…
when suddenly the veil between heaven and earth feels thin.
…those thin places.
Maybe it was more grounded:
Sitting with a loved one as they took their final breath,
witnessing two people be joined as one
…perhaps it was your own wedding…
or that moment in church when the whole congregation answered “we will” —boldly promising to support those being baptized into a new life. Perhaps it was a long conversation with a trusted friend,
or even a surprising encounter with a stranger.
Moments that shimmer and give meaning.
Moments when God’s presence is undeniable.
But as often as those moments may come, they also pass…
Clarity fades. The world returns to its ordinary rhythms.
Laundry piles up. The dog needs to be fed. The ache in your back returns. And you’re left wondering:
Was that God? Did that really happen? What do I do now?
That is the very place we find the disciples in today’s gospel.
They had experienced Jesus with their whole beings.
They had seen Jesus heal and heard him teach.
They had shared meals and been pulled into the heart of God’s kingdom.
They saw him crucified.
Brutally executed. And they were lost in grief, when…
They found the tomb empty.
Jesus appeared to them.
He spoke of peace. He breathed the Spirit.
What now?
The women had seen the empty tomb.
Thomas had seen and touched visible wounds.
But what was the community to do now?
So they returned to what they knew:
“I’m going fishing.” “We’ll go too.”
Simon Peter. Thomas. Nathanael. James. John.
They went back to their boats, back to the nets, back to what was familiar. Not because they didn’t believe—
but because they didn’t know how to live into what came next. (Maybe you know that feeling too.)
Now, scholars tell us this final chapter of John may have been a later addition— an epilogue to a gospel that otherwise ended quite neatly.
You may remember…last week we heard what sounded like a conclusion: “These things are written so that you may come to believe…”
But this week—wait!—Jesus shows up again!
It’s as though someone recognized that belief alone isn’t enough. Faith must be lived.
It seems this story gets added—not to prove the resurrection, but to answer the lingering question:
What now? What does discipleship look like in the days after Easter?
And so we find the disciples out on the sea.
All night they’ve been fishing. And they’ve caught nothing.
Until a stranger on the shore calls out,
“Cast your net on the right side of the boat.”
And when they do—their nets are full:
Exactly one hundred fifty-three fish.
However you interpret the number
—whether as a symbol of the world or a sign of divine generosity— What matters most is:
When they follow the stranger’s word, they encounter abundance. And in that abundance—they recognize Jesus.
Just like that first moment, years ago, when Jesus had called them. This is not a brand new call,
but a reawakening of the call they had already received.
The disciples are reminded of who they are.
Fishers of people. Bearers of good news.
Builders of beloved community.
Jesus does something simple and profound.
He invites them to breakfast.
He feeds them.
Just as he had done in the upper room.
Just as he had done on the hillside with the loaves and fish.
Just as he still does at this table.
And then it gets personal.
Jesus turns to Peter.
Not to scold. Not to punish him for denying him three times.
But to restore him.
“Peter, do you love me?”
“Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”
“Feed my lambs.”
Three times Jesus asks. Three times Peter affirms.
Three chances to say yes, for every time he once said no.
A personal reconciliation and a recommissioning.
Jesus is entrusting Peter—and his disciples—with the care of God’s people. The work of the Good Shepherd.
Loving. Leading. Feeding. Tending.
This is what discipleship looks like.
It’s not just those isolated spiritual experiences.
It’s not just moments of awe.
It’s waking up and deciding to cast the net again.
It’s cooking breakfast.
Feeding sheep.
Tending relationships.
Showing up.
Again and again.
But it’s hard.
And Jesus doesn’t sugarcoat it:
this kind of love—the love of the Good Shepherd—is costly.
It’s self-emptying. It’s sacrificial.
But it’s also abundant.
Because every time we faithfully cast the net,
Jesus meets us there.
So this Eastertide, I invite you to listen for that invitation again. Maybe your nets have come up empty lately.
Maybe your faith feels stale.
Maybe you’re weary, unsure of what’s next.
You are not alone. The disciples were there too.
So I wonder—what might it look like for you to cast the net again? Not to recapture the past,
but to open yourself to what God is doing now.
How might you string together the moments of awe
with the days of quiet work?
What small act of discipleship could you return to with fresh eyes? Could you offer kindness in a hard conversation?
Return to prayer or another life-giving practice?
Could you check in on someone you’ve been meaning to call? Could you say “yes” again to love? Forgive when it seems impossible?
Jesus asks, “Do you love me?…Feed my sheep.”
That is our work.
It is hard. It is holy. It’s work we’ve been called to do.
This morning, like the disciples, we will gather at the table.
We will break bread together.
And then—we will be sent.
Sent to love and serve.
String those spiritual experiences together
with the hard, abundant work of discipleship:
Cast the net—even if the sea seems empty—
Again. And again. And again.
This is our call. This is our Easter life.
Amen.