After these things Jesus shewed himself again to the disciples at the sea of Tiberias; and on this wise shewed he himself. 2There were together Simon Peter, and Thomas called Didymus, and Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, and the sons of Zebedee, and two other of his disciples. 3Simon Peter saith unto them, I go a fishing. They say unto him, We also go with thee. They went forth, and entered into a ship immediately; and that night they caught nothing. 4But when the morning was now come, Jesus stood on the shore: but the disciples knew not that it was Jesus. 5Then Jesus saith unto them, Children, have ye any meat? They answered him, No. 6And he said unto them, Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find. They cast therefore, and now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes. 7Therefore that disciple whom Jesus loved saith unto Peter, It is the Lord. Now when Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he girt his fisher’s coat unto him, (for he was naked,) and did cast himself into the sea. 8And the other disciples came in a little ship; (for they were not far from land, but as it were two hundred cubits,) dragging the net with fishes. 9As soon then as they were come to land, they saw a fire of coals there, and fish laid thereon, and bread. 10Jesus saith unto them, Bring of the fish which ye have now caught. 11Simon Peter went up, and drew the net to land full of great fishes, an hundred and fifty and three: and for all there were so many, yet was not the net broken. 12Jesus saith unto them, Come and dine. And none of the disciples durst ask him, Who art thou? knowing that it was the Lord. 13Jesus then cometh, and taketh bread, and giveth them, and fish likewise. 14This is now the third time that Jesus shewed himself to his disciples, after that he was risen from the dead.15So when they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these? He saith unto him, Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him, Feed my lambs. 16He saith to him again the second time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? He saith unto him, Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him, Feed my sheep. 17He saith unto him the third time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? Peter was grieved because he said unto him the third time, Lovest thou me? And he said unto him, Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee. Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep. 18Verily, verily, I say unto thee, When thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not. 19This spake he, signifying by what death he should glorify God. And when he had spoken this, he saith unto him, Follow me. 20Then Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom Jesus loved following; which also leaned on his breast at supper, and said, Lord, which is he that betrayeth thee? 21Peter seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do? 22Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me. 23Then went this saying abroad among the brethren, that that disciple should not die: yet Jesus said not unto him, He shall not die; but, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? 24This is the disciple which testifieth of these things, and wrote these things: and we know that his testimony is true. 25And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written. Amen.
—John 21
The soul that possesses Christ carries within itself the Divine panacea for every evil. Where there is not a firm fixture on this foundation, the heart of man must ever be subject to fluctuation, and carry within itself a tendency to doubt and despair. To know Christ experimentally as our Saviour and our God; to know Him as having followed us when “afar off,” found us and brought us home to His fold; to know Him as having forgiven all our sins, this is peace, this is joy, this is the soul’s secret strength, light in the midst of its darkness. It is an anchor that holds the soul fast amid all the tumultuous heavings of life’s troubled sea; the hope entering within the veil, laying hold of the great Forerunner, the Lord Jesus Christ.
The chapter we have selected for consideration brings this before us in its opening words. Let us mark them carefully. May we learn again what we have so often learned before, and cannot learn too deeply, the Spirit’s lesson taught us in this portion of the Word?the all sufficiency of Christ for every state of man’s heart.
“After these things Jesus showed Himself again to the disciples at the Sea of Tiberias; and on this wise showed he himself.” The word “again” calls our attention to the previous manifestations of Christ after His resurrection, and recorded in the preceding chapter. The first was to Mary at the sepulcher, the second to the disciples in the upper room, the third to Thomas, and the fourth to the entire band on the shore of Tiberias. These four parties to whom the Saviour presented Himself are the representatives of four great classes of people in the world. And in connection with this view of the subject we press upon the reader the significance of the expression in the opening words of this chapter, “Jesus shewed himself.” Mark how the showing of “himself,” on each of these occasions, was all that was required to give peace, joy, gladness, and perfect satisfaction to the heart.
In Mary at the sepulcher we have the type of the mourner-the suffering, sorrowing, brokenhearted one. The Saviour simply revealed “himself” to her through the sound of her own name, and every tear was dry, and the heart glad and happy.
In the disciples in the upper room, waiting for Christ, with the doors shut about them for fear of persecution, we have a type of the waiting ones, the tried, tempted, persecuted, rejected ones; those who are struggling between hope and fear, hoping in spite of hope, impeded in the path by foes from without and fears from within, yet pressing on to God. To these the Saviour simply showed “himself,” through the medium of the wounded hands and the bruised side, and all was joy and gladness. “Then were the disciples glad, when they saw the Lord.”
In Thomas, we have the type of another class-the doubting, fearing, unbelieving one; the wandering, backsliding one; the one who cannot believe unless all is plain, demonstrative, tangible. To him the Saviour simply showed “himself,” and we are told that Thomas exclaimed, in the fullness of his joy, “My Lord and my God.”
In the entire band of disciples, just returned from their fruitless night of toil on the lake, we have the type of another class—the toiling, the weary, the disappointed ones; the hungry, needy, helpless ones; the toilers throughout the long, dark night, with empty vessels, disappointed hopes, and fainting hearts. To these the Saviour simply shows “himself,” and all is fullness of joy-the satisfaction of every need, and the reaping of an abundant harvest.
Oh how true it is that the heart of man needs only to see Jesus! Whatever its state may be, whether that of Mary mourning for some loved one who has left our hearth and homestead never to be seen again till the morning of resurrection or that of the waiting disciples; in doubt, fear and dread, still hoping on and pressing through the foes by which we are surrounded or whether like Thomas; unbelieving, backsliding, sinful; or the disciples on the shore toiling year after year with no fruit to their labors; all the poor heart needs to see is Jesus. Yes, only Jesus is the Church’s cry. Let Him present Himself to the heart and all will be well. Then will it be filled with joy and gladness and repose on His bosom with perfect rest. In this last manifestation of Christ we have a prophetic lesson brought before us. It is a type of what is yet before the Church and has its spiritual fulfillment now in the history of each believer. It shall have its literal fulfillment in the morning of the resurrection. The mourning, the waiting, the unbelieving ones are to be satisfied with Christ now. The toilers through the dark night; the hungry, weary, and disappointed ones, are also to be satisfied with Jesus now. But in the morning of resurrection there shall be a full supply, an abundant harvest, an overflowing reward, that shall richly repay all the toil and labor of this dark night through which we are passing. We shall reach the long wished for “shore,” and there meet Him whom we have known of old. He shall then open to His toiling ones all the treasures of His love, and grace, and mercy. Every mouth shall be filled. Every heart shall be satisfied. Every song shall resound to the riches of His grace.
But mark another truth in this verse: “Jesus shewed himself.” Man can never see the Saviour till the Spirit of God reveals that Saviour to him. Jesus must show Himself or we shall see no beauty in Him that we should admire Him. How strikingly this truth is confirmed in the four cases we have referred to. Mark it well, dear reader, and may God write it on your heart. Mary stood at the Saviour’s very side, but she knew Him not. Not till He “shewed himself” in the word “Mary” did she see Him. The Saviour stood in the midst of the disciples in the upper room; but they knew Him not. St. Luke tells us “they were terrified and affrighted, and supposed that they had seen a spirit.”1 Not till the Saviour “showed Himself,” through His wounded hands and bruised side, did they see Him. “Then” but not till then, “were the disciples glad, when they saw the Lord.” So it was also with Thomas. The Saviour was at his side, but he knew Him not. Not till the Lord “shewed himself,” in the words, “Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side:” did Thomas exclaim, out of the fullness of his heart, “My Lord and my God.” And, so also with the disciples on the shore of Tiberias. The Lord stood in their midst, yet not one of them knew Him. This is expressly stated. “But when the morning was now come, Jesus stood on the shore: but the disciples knew not that it was Jesus.” Not till the Saviour “shewed himself,” in the draught of fishes, did one of them exclaim, “It is the Lord” Oh, when will men learn this solemn truth so clearly brought before us in these cases, that the heart of man cannot see Christ till Christ reveals Himself to it! “But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: (and the seeing Christ as his Saviour is one of them) for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.”
Reader, with all your profession of religion, if the Spirit of God has not shown you the Saviour, you are still in ignorance, in darkness, in death. You cannot of yourself see Jesus. You cannot of yourself see your true state before God as a sinner. You cannot of yourself see the blackness, the vileness, the awful depravity of that heart of yours. You may readily acknowledge it, but have you felt it? Has the mountain weight of sin on your secret heart forced from your lips the agonizing cry, “O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” If not, your general acknowledgment of sin is only a mockery—a solemn mockery of God. Your knowledge is of the head, not of the heart. Your religion is a subterfuge, a mask, a superficial covering that can never bear the searching eye of a holy God. And this must continue till God, the Spirit, “show” Jesus to you.
But how to “shew” Him? Show Him so that you can no longer look upon yourself with complacency, but with deep self-abhorrence. “Shew” Him so that the whole heart be bowed down before God and the soul cling to the Saviour as its life, its all. “Shew” Him, so that the conscience smitten under a sense of sin will cling with delight and joy to the blood of Jesus for pardon and peace. “Shew” Him, so that in the flesh shall be seen no good thing, but Jesus only—“the chiefest among ten thousand;” the “altogether lovely.”
Reader, solemnly, in the sight of God, I put a question to you. Permit me, as a dying man, speaking to a dying fellow sinner, to lay my hand upon you and ask, has the Spirit of God thus shown Jesus to you? If not, of what real value is all your knowledge of Jesus? Would it not be far more honest of you to have done with the lie you are carrying in your right hand—the hollow, worthless profession of religion you are so tenaciously grasping? It may serve you for a little while. But oh, dear friend, remember the solemn meeting at the bar of God towards which you are daily hastening. There will be no masks there! No religious subterfuges there! None! The holy eye of God shall scatter them all like chaff before the wind and the soul shall stand in all its deformity before Him! O, fling away these flimsy coverings and bow at the feet of Jesus! You like reality, honesty, before men, oh, be honest yourself before God! Wear no hypocritical religious garb. Carry no lie in your right hand. Ask the Lord to show you your state as a sinner before Him! Ask Him to show you Jesus putting away sin by His finished work on Calvary. Thus will you be a true man. Thus will you be a Christian, not in name, but in reality. Thus will your eyes be open to see Jesus and to see Jesus is everlasting life.
Child of God, remember this every step of your way to heaven, you cannot see Jesus till He shows Himself to you. You sometimes open the Word and you read passage after passage, without profit, without comfort, without any blessing. Ah! He is teaching you the deeply needed lesson that you cannot see Him of yourself. God is always teaching us this in one way or another. We are not willing to learn it as deeply as He would have us. Therefore He makes us feel it. Then how does the conviction of our ignorance force itself upon us! How is our dullness, blindness and earthliness of spirit disclosed to our astonished view! Be not discouraged, dear reader, at this. The Lord is teaching you. It is the Lord’s lesson you are learning in this painful way. Be not cast down, but go in humility to his feet, and say, Lord, teach Thou me! “Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law.” Show me Jesus, and I shall be satisfied. Oh remember it always; the Lord must show Himself or you can never see Him. Wait on Him then. Wait patiently, but wait continually. It is only as He shows Himself your soul can learn. It is only as He shows Himself you can grow in grace. It is only as He shows Himself you can become like Him. And you will become like Him then, for you will see Him.
But now let us proceed to the remaining portion of this beautiful chapter. “There were together Simon Peter, and Thomas called Didymus, and, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, and the sons of Zebedee, and two other of his disciples. Simon Peter saith unto them, I go a fishing. They say unto him, We also go with thee. They went forth, and entered into a ship immediately.” What a solemn warning are we presented with in the words of this verse! The disciples went back again to their old calling. The Lord had drawn them from it, when He said, “Come ye after me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.” But no sooner is the Lord crucified, and laid in the grave, than all hope seems to have fled. Acting under the influence of the ardent and impetuous Peter, they go back again to the very scenes and circumstances from which the Saviour had called them. For this rash step there was no excuse. The Lord had plainly declared to them, “after I am risen again, I will go before you into Galilee.” Their attitude should have been one of faith and patient expectation, but no, faith has fled, hope has died out. By a remarkable rebound they go to their old calling. Not one suggests a pause. Not one word is thought of consulting God. They took a step, leaving God out of the question altogether. Their own inclination, their own resolve, their own step, nothing else was thought of. And mark the judgment—“that night they caught nothing.”
Reader, take heed to the warning! Learn well the solemn lesson! If you take a step without consulting God remember what will be the consequence. It matters nothing what is the nature of that step. If you take it from choice or inclination or because it seems a right step and do not consult God, you will Surely, either directly or indirectly, have the judgment of God resting upon it. Yours will be the painful experience, “that night they caught nothing.” Do not plead as an excuse that it is duty or that it seems right. The sin of this act of the disciples did not consist so much in there being something wrong in it. It was their worldly duty, their earthly calling. So they might have pleaded. The sin is not so much the wrong in the act as the taking the step without reference to God’s will. Yours may be a right step; but if you take it without reference to His glory, without having first consulted Him, depend upon it yours will be the same result. Time will display to your view the handwriting on the wall, written by the finger of God over that step of yours—“that night they caught nothing.”
Throughout life we are bent on carrying out our own will. Man loves to be independent. He glories in it. He says: Cannot I do as I like? Who shall lord it over me? This independence, this carrying out of our own will, is essentially rebellion against God. So inveterate is this propensity that even when we are brought to know Christ we act in the common concerns of life, in the minutia of each day’s duties, just as if it were a matter of course that we should do as we pleased! And we are prepared to resent, as an affront, any one who would step in and tell us that we are not to do as we please! This unconscious, yet deeply rooted, principle is a part of our very being and our Christianity is powerless to shake it off. We carry it into the things of God, yea, into the very presence of God. We forget that we are bought and that now we are no longer our own; but that body, soul, and spirit, are the Lord’s, the purchase of His precious blood. We forget that not only are we ourselves bought, but that our moments of time are bought, our influence is bought, our talents are bought, our money is bought, our very words and thoughts, and deeds are bought. Yes, all are bought-blood bought.
We forget that we have no right to take a walk, except it may please God. We forget that we have no right to go to an evening party, except it may please God. We forget that anything we may do, as a matter of right, as the carrying out our own will and pleasure, is a robbery of God. It is the rebellion of a servant against his master, the revolt of a slave from the one who has purchased him. Yet how will this be resented by some! How shall we meet the cavil, the objection, the taunt, the sneer, perhaps, at such a statement as this! How do Christians habitually forget it, yea willfully act against it? But this must not be in God’s child. He will not let it be. The characteristic of the Master was, “I came down from heaven, not to do mine own will, but the will of him that sent me.” The one great feature of His life was, He “pleased not himself.” As the Master was, so must the servant be. It is a hard lesson, often a life-long lesson, but we must learn it. God steps in and says: It may be so with the natural man, but it shall not be so with you. God says-You shall not be independent, you shall not carry out your own will. You must be a dependent creature every step of your journey. You must give up your will and carryout mine. You must depend upon me every hour of the day and be ready to do my will in every act of life—hence the constant crossings in our daily lot, the repeated thwarting of our preconceived plans, the mournful and yet constantly repeated complaint, “Everything seems to go across with me!” Yes, because your own will, your own way, your own choice, are what you are bent on carrying out, and God will not have it. You must become like the Master. Your will must be broken and bent to God’s. Your time, plans, pleasures and engagements, must have constant reference to His glory. You are not prepared for this. But God must, God will see it in you, though you have to pass through the furnace to reach it.
Reader, think of this! Remember this rash step of the disciples. Remember the fatal little word “immediately,” in this verse. Mark its contrast to another passage; the first chapter of St. Paul to the Galatians, and sixteenth verse. See that every step of yours has the same reference to God’s g1ory. Then will the experience of your soul not be, “that night they caught, nothing.” but that of the beloved apostle in this chapter, “they glorified God in me.”
But how comforting is the truth we are taught in connection with this! “But when the morning was now come, Jesus stood on the shore: but the disciples knew not that it was Jesus.” Though the disciples had gone wrong, had forgotten the Lord, had followed their own ways and had brought upon themselves disappointment, perplexity and distress, yet the Lord has not forsaken them. They have deserved it, it is true; but God is not like man. He knows the wanderings of His sheep and has compassion upon their infirmities. They have returned from their night of toil. Their nets are empty. They are weary, hungry and perplexed; but Jesus is on the shore. It is the hour of nature’s extremity, but God is there. They have sown and reaped the bitter fruits of their own ways, but the Lord is there; they have forgotten Him, but He has not forgotten them. They have forsaken Him, but He has not forsaken them. The shore is reached. The nets are thrown aside. Despair is depicted on each countenance. Then Jesus speaks, “Children, have ye any meat?”
Blessed be God for this precious truth. We are like this poor band of fishermen. We are continually bent on carrying out our own wills. We are continually doing things without consulting God. We are daily making mistakes, daily turning our backs on our best friend. Our life is simply a history of mistakes, wanderings and sins. Oh, who among God’s people does not feel this! Yet, blessed be His holy name, He is not long away from our side; only so long as to make us feel our sins and follies, that we may trust ourselves less and Him more. Our history in all these things is sad enough, but it has the silver lining—“when the morning was now come, Jesus stood on the shore” What a picture of daily provocations is ours! What daily sins, crookedness, and shortcomings! What a course of wandering from God; “If thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shell stand?” But blessed be Thy holy name forever, after each dark night of mistake, wandering and sin, we come back and find Jesus on the shore. His love and faithfulness have brought Him there in the hour of our extremity, despite it all. Each night of toil on the dark waters of mistake and sin has a shore on which Jesus stands; ever ready to help and to save. What a Saviour is ours! What marvelous love! What tender pity! What deep compassion! What never failing faithfulness! Oh, who would not trust Him! Lord, give us hearts to lean on Thee, to rest on thy bosom, to dwell in Thy love!
“But the disciples knew not that it was Jesus.” This is our history on earth. God comes at the end of all our sins and mistakes with a blessing, but He hides Himself. We see Him not. He makes Himself known through His actings. We neither see Him nor expect Him at this point in our history. Conscience accuses. We have wandered and sinned. We dare not expect Him now. If we had not so wandered, we might have expected Him to draw near and bless us; but now we cannot, we dare not. The thought never enters our minds. Never did the disciples expect the Saviour less than at this moment. So it is with us. But Jesus was there. What brought Him? Not their faith, but their sins. What brought Him? Not their consistency of conduct, but their deep needs. What brought Him there? His own love! His own marvelous compassion and grace, and nothing else!
But they did not know Him. There was a cloud about their souls brought on them by their own wandering. God hides Himself but with a hand full of blessing and grace. Just now the cloud will pass and they shall see their God through the blessing He leaves behind Him. At present, though He is at their side, they see Him not. He is the last One in the world they expect. When Jesus stood at Mary’s side, she thought it was the gardener; the one who had taken Him away. Her sorrow was at its height. But it was her own dear Saviour! When the disciples were in the upper room, and the Saviour appeared, they thought it was a spirit, and were “terrified.” But it was Jesus! When the disciples were overtaken by the storm, and He drew nigh, they thought all was over and that a messenger had come from the spirit-world to swallow them up! But it was Jesus. So it is with us. Our failings and infirmities, our mistakes and sins bring a cloud with them that hides us from God. We come to some point of extremity in our life. Darkness, thick darkness, is around us. The critical moment approaches—the climax—and we give up all hope. But Jesus is in the cloud. Not a spirit, but a loving, gracious Saviour. We know not that it is Jesus. Let us wait a little. We shall know Him when the cloud passes. We shall see our God by the blessing He has left behind Him. Yes, we can see Him now. We can look back on our earthly path and trace one event after another and see his hand in them. We can raise our Ebenezers on some of the darkest spots in our earthly pilgrimage. We can bless Him now most of all for what at the time we thought was a spirit come to swallow us up. Now we see it was Jesus. We know Him, just as the disciples knew Him here, by the blessing He has left behind Him-by the great draught of fishes they took. Let us trust Him! He is always the same.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace
; Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face!
“The disciples knew not that it was Jesus.” Nor was it necessary. He knew them, and there lay their safety, their blessing. He knew them; their sins, their needs, their disappointment, their fruitless night of toil. He knew all and He was there. Yes, He was there-their loving, gracious, all sufficient Saviour. He was there—was not that enough? Surely it was. His presence was the sure and certain pledge of every blessing. In His presence is fullness of joy. In His presence the disciple shall not be weary, nor hungry, disappointed, nor cast down. Precious Saviour! Blessed be Thy holy name forever, for Thy love, Thy mercy, Thy continued faithfulness, to poor, needy sinners such as we are!
“Then Jesus saith unto them, Children, have ye any meat? They answered Him, No.” We may notice another truth taught us here. God speaks to man’s soul through his wants. It is our daily needs that bring us into contact with Him. These are the points of vital contact between the soul and God. Through these He meets the soul with the riches of His redeeming grace, and thus brings us to see and feel that He is “the God of all grace.” Not only is the soul’s conscious need the first point of vital contact with God. These needs are the meeting places between the soul and God, through which He is daily speaking to us, daily opening up the riches of His grace and love, His tenderness and wisdom. Oh, what precious points of contact with the Lord Jesus are these needs! How we come, through them to realize the fullness, the all sufficiency, of Christ! How they make us know him! This is the truth brought before us in these words of the Lord Jesus, “Children, have ye any meat?” This was what they had been toiling all the night for. They had returned home empty and hungry. “Meat” was their need and through it the Saviour speaks to their hearts. Through it He reveals to them His fullness and all sufficiency.
“Children, have ye any meat?” brought from their hearts what it ever brings from the heart of God’s child—the confession of emptiness and poverty. “They answered him, No.” He knew their poverty. He knew their need. The question was not put that He might know it, but that through it He might draw their attention to Him as the all sufficient one. This is what God is always doing. We are all, sinners and saints, needy creatures. These needs of man are not accidents; they come not from second causes, they are not the result of capricious nature. No! They come to us as everything does, through the chain of second causes, apparently by accident, by circumstances over which we have no control and so we allow them to pass over, supposing they are unguided results. They are second causes only, as the hunger of these disciples was after their night of fruitless toil. But these second causes create needs in man’s heart. God sends them for this very purpose and through these needs He may approach the soul and reveal Himself to it as the great supplier. It is in this way God is speaking to every man living in every event of life. The lover of pleasure and sin, at some moment unexpected, when the flush and excitement of the draught are over, comes to reflect. He feels for a moment that the cup does not, satisfy him. For the time it was sweet, but now he feels it was not enough. He wants something of a more permanently satisfying nature. There is the need. It has been created by a chain of second causes. But it is no chance creation. An unerring Guide has been directing these second causes, in order to create this very want, that through it He may approach the soul. He speaks, Child, hast thou any meat? He speaks, but man hears not His voice. So strongly are second causes twined round his soul, so strongly is practical infidelity the element in which he lives that he is deaf to God’s voice. And though God follows him hour after hour, in amazing mercy, creating fresh needs, and again approaching his soul through them, and whispering, Child, hast thou any meat? He hears not God’s voice. Still God follows him in wondrous mercy, sending deeper needs, needs that inflict wounds in his soul and bring forth hot scalding tears from his eyes, and in a louder clearer tone whispers, Child, hast thou any meat? And yet, he hears not. Thus man lives on. Thus he dies, the life, long subject of a discipline from the hand of God to which he has been blind. Thus he dies, with a long, dark shadow behind him, stretching through years of mercies and judgments, creating deep needs in his soul, and all lost, all guiltily trodden under foot. These are his witnesses, which he himself, in his lifetime, has called forth to the bar of God to condemn him. And that condemnation must be a righteous, holy and a just one.
The Lord now proceeds to manifest Himself. “And he said unto them, Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find” The Lord was about to pour out a blessing; but before doing so He tries their faith. The trial of faith is generally the forerunner of blessing. But what a command this was! Nature would have said: What difference is there between the right side of the ship and the left? What a foolish command! Here we are, weary, disappointed, hungry; we have toiled all the night and He says to us, “Cast the net on the right side of the ship.” So they might not unreasonably have argued. God tries our faith by something the natural mind would consider foolish. Ah! The wisdom of God is foolishness with men. Will the disciples reason or obey? Will they, like Naaman of old, say, “Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel?” or will they obey the word of the Lord? This was the turning point in their history. Blessing or no blessing hung upon it. Another historian tells us what they did on a similar occasion. Peter said unto Him, “Master, we have toiled all the night, and have taken nothing: nevertheless at thy word I will let down the net.” What a precious resolve, “nevertheless at thy word.” Everything is against us, “nevertheless at thy word I will.” It seems a foolish command, “nevertheless at thy word I will.” It seems to be mocking us in this hour of trial and hunger, “nevertheless at thy word I will.” Here is faith, in spite of all appearances, casting itself upon God. Here is faith, with everything against it, resolving to act in obedience to the Lord’s word. Precious faith! How God is glorified in it!
“They cast therefore, and now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes.” Obedience is always the forerunner of blessing. To every step God increases faith strength and power. And the more the soul acts on His simple word, in the face of improbabilities and impossibilities, the more He is glorified.
“They cast therefore, and now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes.” The disciples might have thought that, somehow or other, the Saviour would provide for them. They might have calculated on His uniform love to meet their necessities in this hour of trial. But could they have expected so large a blessing? Could they have thought for a moment that such an overflowing supply was at hand? Could they have conceived the blessing that hung upon obedience to that word, “Cast the net on the right side of the ship.” Never! Ah! When God gives us a blessing, it is a blessing worthy of Himself, a Godlike blessing. See what awaits the faith that trusts in spite of all improbabilities! See what a blessing follows simple obedience to God and His Word! “Now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes.” O child of God, trust Him! See what He would have you do and do it, though everything is against you. Faith shall gain the victory. Obedience shall gain the blessing. Taking this verse in connection with the eleventh we see how God rewards those who trust His word and obey it. “Simon Peter went up, and drew the net to land full of great fishes, an hundred and fifty and three.”
One particular word in this verse must not be passed over. It shines like the bow in the dark cloud. “Cast the net on the right side of the ship.” It seemed useless. Disappointment was depicted on the countenance and a command of such a kind was tantalizing. Everything was very dark. But there was one precious word on which faith could lean, even at this trying moment. “Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find;”—“ye shall” what an assurance! It was the word of Him who cannot lie. It was the assurance of One who has said, “Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.” Could they trust it? Could they venture on it? Yes, they did. “Master, we have toiled all the night, and have taken nothing: nevertheless at thy word I will let down the net.” In the midst of the darkest paths, God gives the soul a promise-“ye shall find” This is the silver lining to the dark cloud. There is no dark cloud without it. Reader, if God calls you to walk in darkness, He gives you a “shall,” a sure and certain promise for your soul to lean upon. May you lean upon it unreservedly, then you will experience its comfort and soon, also, its faithfulness, in a glorious fulfillment. “He is faithful that promised.”
“Therefore that disciple whom Jesus loved saith unto Peter, It is the Lord.” We have, in this verse, two distinct types of Christians. Here is John-the one whose heart is full of Christ’s love—calm, reflective and meditative; the one who most quickly recognizes the Saviour by sitting, like Mary, at His feet. There is Peter also, a true believer, but full of zeal and impetuosity and ready to plunge into the deep to do honor to his Lord. Both are doing the Lord’s work. Both shall receive His reward. But, dear reader, in this day of excitement and impetuosity may our character be the happy blending of the two. May we have the first that it may lead to the second. May we sit at the feet of Jesus and go forward from that sweet spot full of zeal to do the Lord’s work, walking in the Spirit and led of the Spirit.
But who was it that first discovered the Saviour? The one who was near to Jesus, leaned on His bosom, dwelt in His love. Reader, remember this. If you want to discern quickly your Saviour’s image, wherever it is to be seen; if you want to see most clearly the Lord’s mind, the Lord’s ways, the Lord’s presence, you must live near to Him, lean on His bosom, dwell in His love. Christians are not spiritually quick sighted because they are not living near to Jesus and leaning on Him. All spiritual dullness and cloudiness of soul proceeds from want of this. And one feature marks this disciple here-he never mentions his own name. The soul that lives near to Jesus and leans on His bosom will be always hiding itself in Him. If it has to appear at all it will appear in this way—“that disciple whom Jesus loved.” He calls our attention to him only as hidden under the love of Jesus. Reader; live near, very near, lean on Him. Then will you too delight to hide yourself in the cleft of the Rock of ages.
“Simon Peter went up, and drew the net to land full of great fishes, an hundred and fifty and three: and for all there were so many, yet was not the net broken.” The net was not broken; it was very weak, made by the hands of a few poor fishermen, yet it held this great draught. When God sends a blessing, He prepares the vessel to hold it. The cords of that net would have broken under other circumstances. But God prepares both, the treasure and the vessel; and when He makes strong, what weakness can there be? There may be many a spiritual net now cast in faith and prayer into the great deep of this world’s sea which shall bring up a great draught. There may be many a poor weak servant of Christ now going forth into whose soul the Lord may pour a large blessing to overflow into the bosom of others. The cords may be those of a weak body, a trembling heart; but many “out of weakness were made strong.” God has prepared the net for the blessing, and it shall not burst. We marvel to see how often God’s richest blessings are carried in very frail nets. We marvel to see the vessels, “earthen” ones, not gold or silver. Ah! It is thus the glory of Christ shines forth. “The excellency of the power” is seen to be “not of us,” but of Him. Let us not wonder. Let us not tremble and fear lest our feeble nets should burst under the weight of His glory. No, He has prepared them: “and for all there are so many, yet was not the net broken.” Let us trust Him and go forward. Our faith, our prayers, our desires, our efforts, our service in the work, our machinery employed in carrying it on—all may be nets very frail, but God has prepared them, and the nets He has prepared, be they ever so weak, shall not burst but bear the treasure He has put into them. Precious truth! Strong consolation for our weak faith and trembling hearts!
“Jesus saith unto them, Come and dine.” This is instructive. The Lord was about to administer a gentle reproof to Peter for having three times denied Him. He does it very gently, and indirectly too, by three times asking, “lovest thou me.” He does not even mention his sin. He only indirectly reminds him of it. But, before doing even this, He says “Come and dine.” In reminding Him of his fault He disabuses the mind of Peter of any thought of unkindness towards him by inviting him to the social feast. Not pointing out the fault first, but winning the heart. If, dear reader, we want to gain the soul, we must first win the heart. Then, having precluded the idea of unkindness by His invitation and thus prepared the ground, He proceeds to the work of faithful but loving reproof. O reader, what an example for you and me! May God give us grace to follow it! Do you want to warn, rebuke, reprove? Win the heart first! Show by words and deeds that you love the man, then you may proceed. Then you will have prepared the ground for the seed. But not even then fully; something more, even yet. Study the gentlest way of doing it. Rather be indirect than pointed. Rather remind than openly point out. Oh, be like Jesus! See Him at the well of Sychar after a journey of forty miles, fling Himself, jaded and tired, at the well’s mouth. Mark the dust on His sandals and the sweat on His brow. Mark the ignorance and blindness, the tantalizing stupidity; for such the flesh would call it, of this woman. See how utterly incapable of comprehending His plainest words! Yet not a frown is on His brow. Not a word of reproach escapes His lips. He follows her down into the lowest depths of her blindness, ignorance and sin, without a check or word of rebuke. And why? Just to win her soul. Oh, as we look on at these cases we may well exclaim, was ever gentleness like His? Was ever tenderness like Christ’s? Was ever love, dear Lord, like Thine? But reader, “Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow his steps.” Let us look at Jesus and do likewise.
“So when they had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these? He saith unto him, Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him, Feed my sheep.” How gently the Saviour, by this thrice repeated question, brought home to Peter’s conscience his sin. And, having touched the conscience, no further allusion is made to the matter. It teaches us the lesson that to touch the conscience should be our aim at all times and that this having been accomplished no after allusion should be made to the sin we have by God’s blessing brought home to it. The poor sinner should not sink in our estimation, should not be one shade less in that estimation than he was before. We should forget as well as forgive. The conscience touched so as to bring it to its true state before God, touched gently, touched indirectly, touched by reminding rather than by pointing out, touched after we have gained the heart-this is God’s way of dealing with the poor wanderer. Oh reader, may you and I have grace to go and do likewise. It is not in this way the wanderer is generally dealt with. Why?-because there is so little of the mind of Jesus in us. Let us ask for this, and when an occasion presents itself, as it Surely will, let us follow our blessed Master’s example; so shall we win that soul and not lose our reward. “He that winneth souls is wise.”
But what agitation must have been going on, at this moment, in Peter’s mind. How his transparent character shows itself and betrays the agitation within. How plainly he shows us that his conscience was touched, “lovest thou me more than these,” our Lord says. Peter does not answer the question. He simply replies, “Yea, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.” Did the Saviour ever doubt Peter’s love to Him? Never. Peter’s conscience was touched, and he evades the real point of the question; “more than these.” Of course he loved the Saviour. But after his third denial, after his lies and oaths, how could he say “Yea, Lord; Thou knowest that I love Thee (more than these.)” He could not. He dared not. Conscience was stung to the quick. He bowed his head in the dust. His eye quailed before the gentle, loving look of the Master. Yet with all his past sins, with all his perfidy and treachery, brought on in an unguarded hour, with all his boasting and self confidence full in view, he could say, he would say, dark as the picture was that now hung before his conscience, “Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.” With a black scroll spread out before him he could yet look up into the face of God; and with a flood of Omnipotent light penetrating his heart through and through, exclaim, with sincerity and truth, “Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.” He seems to say: After my past base ingratitude and guilty conduct, I dare not, I cannot, I will not say I love Thee more than these, but, Lord, Thou knowest all things, Thou knowest this poor heart of mine, Thou knowest its every secret, and that it is with no guile, no feigned lips, I say it, Thou knowest all things, Lord, Thou knowest I love Thee.
Reader, can you say the same? It may be that, like poor Peter, you look back on a lifetime of base ingratitude, on a past history, every leaf of which is written in dark characters of crime and sin. It may be that conscience, appalled by the Almighty’s searching gaze, shrinks back and hides itself in the dust. It may be that there is not one bright spot in your past history, not one redeeming feature to the dark vision that hovers in your path, but with all this can you look up into the face of God with a tearful eye, but a true heart, and say, “Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.” God’s voice is calling to you from heaven. It is calling you by name. It asks you to substitute your own name for that of Simon in this passage. It asks you this solemn question, “lovest thou me” Dear reader, earnestly do I entreat you—before you read one line further of this book—to close your eyes, look up into the face of God and give an honest answer to His question, “Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?”
“This spake he, signifying by what death he should glorify God. And when he had spoken this, he saith unto him, Follow me. Then Peter, turning about, seeth the disciple whom Jesus loved following; which also leaned on his breast at supper.” Peter needs a command to follow Christ, needs that command to be repeated. But the disciple who was living near to Jesus, leaning on His bosom, dwelling in His love, is seen following Jesus without any command. It was not that this disciple did not need the command, he outstripped it. He saw the Lord’s mind, and followed it. Peter, not living near to Jesus, saw not this and needed a command; nay, could not follow without it. There are these two classes of Christians all around us. One, like Peter, is a true disciple, but walking at a distance from God. He gets into difficulties and wrong paths, is perplexed and cannot move without a plain command from God’s word. Not finding it, he cannot move; or if he moves, it is in a wrong direction. Another Christian, like John, living near to the Lord, gets into the same trying paths as the other. His guide, however, in every path, is not the letter only of the word, but the spirit of it. He knows that if he were to be guided only by its letter, that word must constantly fail him. He looks at God’s mind. He knows the spirit of that word. He is living near to Jesus. Therefore he is never at a loss. His course, however perplexing, is one of “following” Jesus. His eye is single, he sees Christ. He presses onward in the path that will most tend to His glory. The world looks on and seeth him following. Why? Because he leaned on his Saviour’s bosom. He sees that Saviour before him. To him, “to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” The other disciple is walking at a distance and is far behind in the race. That distance has cast a shadow over his spiritual vision. He stands still or turns himself about in the race, dragging on a slow and imperceptible progression while the other is pressing rapidly on to the prize. O Lord, give each one of us to live near to Thee, to lean on Thy bosom and to hide ourselves in Thy love, so that, seeing Thy mind, we too may press on to heaven!
One point more, “And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written. Amen.” Dear reader, this is no pious exaggeration. It is the language of every true believer. The soul that knows the preciousness of Jesus can say, WILL say, No books can tell what He is to my soul. If every book the world ever penned were to be transmuted into a history of Jesus, all put together could not tell out the preciousness of His dear Name! All are too mean to speak His worth, Too mean to set the Saviour forth.
Only before the throne, when I see Him as He is and praise Him with un-sinning heart and with the echoes of the new song falling on my enraptured spirit from “a great multitude which no man can number,” only then shall I see the fullness of His grace, the wonders of His love; only then shall I praise Him as I ought!
Reader, can your heart endorse the language of this verse? If you are a child of God you can-fully. If you cannot, you have “neither part nor lot in this matter” of a Saviour’s salvation. You are still; though you may be able to do everything else—“dead in trespasses and sins.” It is an awful state of soul in which to meet God! Reader, is it thy state?
I am weary of straying! oh fain would I rest
In that far distant land of the pure and the blest!
Where sin can no longer its blandishments spread,
Where tears and temptations forever have fled.
I am weary of hoping where hope is untrue
As fair, but as fleeting, as morning’s bright dew.
I long for that land whose blest promise alone
Is changeless and sure as eternity’s throne.
I am weary of sighing o’er sorrows of earth,
O’er joy’s glowing visions that fade at their birth,
O’er the pangs of the loved that we cannot assuage,
O’er the blighting of youth and the weakness of age.
I am weary of loving what passes away;
The sweetest, the dearest, alas, may not stay.
I long for that land where these partings are o’er,
Where death and the tomb can divide hearts no more.
I am weary, my Saviour, of grieving Thy love;
Oh when shall I rest in Thy presence above!
I am weary; but oh, let me never repine,
While Thy word, and Thy love, and Thy promise are mine.
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