See with what confidence I write!
Hand over hand,
I was made for this work—
Like setting sails.
I am a fisher of men!
I gave a blind man sight today,
And he was not the first.
Andrew and I are hauling nets
At the same rate
Moving light and fast.
We are saving souls from the depths
And sending demons down
Bound with anchors.
I am alive at last.
Much of what Jesus told us
I cannot fathom—
Talk of sheep, and of harvests.
But mother!
Our nets verge on breaking!
There is no limit
To what we can do.
You say, Wait!
There must be a catch.
Yes, there must be—
And it is up to us now!
We have authority to cast nets
As we see fit into the sea
Called Israel.
Lost fish throw themselves
Into our nets
At the sound of our voices.
Yes, Jesus warned
That opposition would come.
The unworthy who reject us,
Those who do not repent and follow
Will get what they deserve.
We will outfox the wolves.
I am not the least bit surprised
At what my hand finds to do.
Peter is perhaps over-invigorated by the results of the disciples’ deputation. See Matthew 10.
Kind of makes me think about the discouragement I have felt about the lack of “results” from personal “witnessing” and “evangelism.” Perhaps such failure is good for us. I’m not sure what inflated idea of my own importance I would have if I went around casting out demons. I’d probably have my own TV show and ferry myself about in a chopper.