The Fathers Voice Collection Article 3. Going Back To What You Know

There is something strangely comforting about what is familiar.

Not because it is always good, nor because it always works. Simply because we've survived it before.

When life becomes uncertain, we naturally reach for whatever makes us feel like we know what we're doing.

For Peter, that was fishing.

I've often heard it preached that Peter went back because he quit. I'm not sure that's what happened. I think something much quieter was taking place.

Peter had just lived through the most confusing days of his life. The Man he had left everything to follow had been crucified. The tomb was empty. Rumors were spreading that Jesus was alive, and nothing made sense anymore.

So Peter did what many of us would have done. He went back to what he knew. Not because fishing guaranteed success, because it didn't.

Peter knew he spent much time dragging up empty nets. He knew storms had a mind of their own. He knew disappointment and that fishing wasn't certain. But it was familiar. 

There is a difference. The familiar has a way of disguising itself as security. Not because it promises life, but because it asks less of our faith.

The same thing happened long before Peter ever stepped into a boat.

After generations of slavery, the children of Israel cried out to God, and He delivered them from Egypt with miracles that would be remembered for generations. Yet it didn't take long before they began talking about going back. Not because Egypt was good. Egypt had stolen their freedom,  had taken their sons, and broken their backs. 

Yet when the wilderness became uncertain, Egypt suddenly looked appealing. Certainly not because it was life-giving, but it was familiar.

I wonder how often we do the same thing. We don't always return because the old life satisfies us. Sometimes we return because uncertainty is asking more of us than familiarity ever did.

Sometimes "going back" isn't even visible to other people. We go back to old ways of thinking. Old ways of protecting ourselves. Old ways of hiding. Old ways of proving ourselves. Anything that helps us feel like we're standing on ground we recognize.

Peter wasn't looking for fish. He was looking for something that felt stable. But the beautiful thing about the Father is this:

He loves His sons too much to let yesterday become their future.

That is why Peter's nets were empty. Not because he was being punished, but because God wasn't going to affirm a decision that would have led Peter away from his calling. Nor was the Father going to validate what He had already called Peter beyond.

As frustrating as this can be for us, often times an empty net is the mercy of God.  It's an invitation into a new mindset, and a new belief about who you are. 

Sometimes what feels like another disappointment is actually the Father's direction for us to stop looking back and start listening forward. Which can feel intimidating, like going from times tables to geometry. 

Imagine if Peter had caught more fish than he ever had before. Would he have looked toward the shoreline? Would he have recognized the voice calling to him across the water? Or would success have quietly convinced him that he no longer needed to leave the boat?

The Father is kind enough to interrupt the things that would keep us from becoming who He created us to be. So when He doesn't remove our uncertainty, He simply meets us in it.

Sons are not formed by certainty. They are formed by trust. Peter thought he needed a full net. What he really needed was truth.

Perhaps that's true for us as well.

Maybe the invitation isn't to become more certain. Maybe the invitation is to become more willing to follow the Father's voice, even when it leads us somewhere unfamiliar. It's called trust. 

Because everything familiar isn't freedom. And everything unfamiliar isn't danger.

Sometimes the place we've never been is where the Father has been waiting for us all along. It's an adventure.