Reaching Out
John 21:1-14 (my own translation)--
Now after the resurrection, Peter and the disciples didn't know what to do, so they went fishing. They fished all night, but caught nothing. Meanwhile, Jesus came to the beach. He made a small fire, prepared some fish he brought, and watched the disciples. He called out, "How y'all doing? They bitin'?" They called back, "We ain't caught nothin'!" Jesus answered, "Have y'all tried the other side of the boat?" Somewhat embarrassed, they hadn't, so they threw their nets over the other side. The haul was huge, more than they could bring in. They knew it was Jesus. Peter stripped himself buck naked to fish, so, he got dressed, plunged in the water, and went ashore. The others followed with all the fish. Jesus asked them for a few and made breakfast. They knew who he was but were afraid to say it as he broke bread and fed them fish.
It may not look like it, but this text has everything we need to know about evangelism in our time. Jesus offers four key considerations--
1. Go to where the people are, don't look for them to come to you.
2. Like the Boy Scouts, be prepared! He has what he needs for what he is to do, including
a plan for what he is doing.
3. If what you are doing isn't working, do something else--note the "experts" spent all
night fishing from the wrong side of the boat until someone tells them to try the
obvious and change sides--sound familiar?
4. Meet the needs of the people met.
Now we may immediately wonder what that looks like in our churches and context.
There is a young church in North Carolina led by the most unlikely team of clergy--an African-American pentecostal Wesleyan and a white Unitarian--imagine the theology debates over sermons!
When we began our recent run of African American men being shot and killed by police officers, the Wesleyan decided to reach out to the community by offering listening sessions where Black and White could gather to tell their stories of life in the South where vestiges of the Confederacy linger like old aunts in back rooms. The idea was similar to Bishop Desmond Tutu's reconciliation sessions wherein the marginalized could freely confess the pain of being marginalized, and the empowered class could freely confess the societal mechanics and unintended complicity with the power structures in place.
It being North Carolina, the community rumor mill began to work overtime. As the date for the meeting drew near, the community understood that the pastor was organizing a new chapter of the Black Panthers intent on rioting in the streets.
The evening arrived. The pastor gathered a local fish camp (a North Carolina fried fish, french fry, and fried hush puppy joint, with a side of slaw, and a gallon of sweet tea). Families came, Black and White, children in tow, members of the church, the curious, and so on--then came the horrible moment. Pick up trucks flying the Confederate flag rolled into the parking lot. North Carolina is an "open carry" state, and these men were carrying openly all manner of firearm. "Y'all ain't having this meeting," was their pronouncement. The pastor, visions of Charleston in his mind, decided to take a risk. He greeted them as a pastor, hoping, this being the South, that even the Ku Klux Klan went to church and pastors still garnered a modicum of respect. They listened as he explained things. Then he did something --he invited them to join the group. He was smart enough to divide them up, sending one to each table around the room. He then began to pray in earnest. As he prayed silently, he began to hear a murmur from around the room, and then he heard...
LAUGHTER.
People were talking. As they spoke, they realized one truth when we share our own stories--life is pretty absurd. Folks were laughing about what living in the South did to you. Black folk were sharing the absurdities of being a minority in plain sight. Then the guys with the guns confessed the absurdity of being poor and White--"We were told we ain't much, but we're better than THEM!" and told to hate folks to keep the peace.
Then about a month ago, a Black man was shot by the Charlotte police. Yes, there was our pentecostal Wesleyan and his Unitarian brother leading the parade in protest. But you know what? There were some of the pistol-packing men from the night earlier, this time, though, not to harass, but to protect their new friends.
That is evangelism.
Now after the resurrection, Peter and the disciples didn't know what to do, so they went fishing. They fished all night, but caught nothing. Meanwhile, Jesus came to the beach. He made a small fire, prepared some fish he brought, and watched the disciples. He called out, "How y'all doing? They bitin'?" They called back, "We ain't caught nothin'!" Jesus answered, "Have y'all tried the other side of the boat?" Somewhat embarrassed, they hadn't, so they threw their nets over the other side. The haul was huge, more than they could bring in. They knew it was Jesus. Peter stripped himself buck naked to fish, so, he got dressed, plunged in the water, and went ashore. The others followed with all the fish. Jesus asked them for a few and made breakfast. They knew who he was but were afraid to say it as he broke bread and fed them fish.
It may not look like it, but this text has everything we need to know about evangelism in our time. Jesus offers four key considerations--
1. Go to where the people are, don't look for them to come to you.
2. Like the Boy Scouts, be prepared! He has what he needs for what he is to do, including
a plan for what he is doing.
3. If what you are doing isn't working, do something else--note the "experts" spent all
night fishing from the wrong side of the boat until someone tells them to try the
obvious and change sides--sound familiar?
4. Meet the needs of the people met.
Now we may immediately wonder what that looks like in our churches and context.
There is a young church in North Carolina led by the most unlikely team of clergy--an African-American pentecostal Wesleyan and a white Unitarian--imagine the theology debates over sermons!
When we began our recent run of African American men being shot and killed by police officers, the Wesleyan decided to reach out to the community by offering listening sessions where Black and White could gather to tell their stories of life in the South where vestiges of the Confederacy linger like old aunts in back rooms. The idea was similar to Bishop Desmond Tutu's reconciliation sessions wherein the marginalized could freely confess the pain of being marginalized, and the empowered class could freely confess the societal mechanics and unintended complicity with the power structures in place.
It being North Carolina, the community rumor mill began to work overtime. As the date for the meeting drew near, the community understood that the pastor was organizing a new chapter of the Black Panthers intent on rioting in the streets.
The evening arrived. The pastor gathered a local fish camp (a North Carolina fried fish, french fry, and fried hush puppy joint, with a side of slaw, and a gallon of sweet tea). Families came, Black and White, children in tow, members of the church, the curious, and so on--then came the horrible moment. Pick up trucks flying the Confederate flag rolled into the parking lot. North Carolina is an "open carry" state, and these men were carrying openly all manner of firearm. "Y'all ain't having this meeting," was their pronouncement. The pastor, visions of Charleston in his mind, decided to take a risk. He greeted them as a pastor, hoping, this being the South, that even the Ku Klux Klan went to church and pastors still garnered a modicum of respect. They listened as he explained things. Then he did something --he invited them to join the group. He was smart enough to divide them up, sending one to each table around the room. He then began to pray in earnest. As he prayed silently, he began to hear a murmur from around the room, and then he heard...
LAUGHTER.
People were talking. As they spoke, they realized one truth when we share our own stories--life is pretty absurd. Folks were laughing about what living in the South did to you. Black folk were sharing the absurdities of being a minority in plain sight. Then the guys with the guns confessed the absurdity of being poor and White--"We were told we ain't much, but we're better than THEM!" and told to hate folks to keep the peace.
Then about a month ago, a Black man was shot by the Charlotte police. Yes, there was our pentecostal Wesleyan and his Unitarian brother leading the parade in protest. But you know what? There were some of the pistol-packing men from the night earlier, this time, though, not to harass, but to protect their new friends.
That is evangelism.
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