ETHAN, THE FISHERMAN

My name is Ethan. I live in the city of Galilee, and I make my living from the beautiful waters of the sea outside my humble home. When the sun rises each day, I begin my work. After just a short respite of sleep, I prepare for another day of fishing. Sleep is often sacrificed for fishing during the evening hours. Most of my neighbors are fishermen too. We come home to rest briefly, restock our supplies and gather some clean, dry clothes and a meager lunch. Most of our meals come directly from the sea. The weather is a big factor. If it’s a stormy day, chances are we won’t set our nets. When the sea is calm is the best time for us to set sail for another day of work. You can imagine what we smell like when we return home. Our clothing is covered with fish blood, sweat and the aroma of fresh sea air.

My skin has been tanned by the sun, but years of fishing has caused it to dry and wrinkle. Tiny lines are beginning to form around my eyes from straining them against the reflections on the water. Some days are better than others. Being a man of the sea requires diligence and perseverance. Not to mention a great deal of patience. Those attributes equip us for the many hours of work we put in.

We work anywhere from ten to twelve hours a day. We’re considered low class citizens because of our raucous lifestyle and bad language. We’re tough under pressure. We have to be. There are times when windstorms could cause our boats to capsize. Strong arms are a requirement for the trade. My temper sometimes gets the best of me. I often put my foot in my mouth and say the wrong thing. Some consider me to be outspoken, but most of them just ignore me.

A man who came from Galilee has been making a name for Himself and has gained quite a following. He performs miraculous deeds. He speaks with authority about His mission. I don’t understand exactly what He’s talking about, but I do know that He seems to be a great fisherman. I can relate to that. He sailed with some of His friends one day. You know how fish stories go. They sometimes exaggerate the truth, but I was a witness to this one. As they put their nets into the water, hordes of fish jumped into them. It was as if the sea had spit out every one of its best fish. There were so many, they had to call on others to help them carry the fish to shore. I’d never seen anything like it. Was it a miracle? I’m not sure, but it sure seemed so. I will never see another catch like I did that day.

A few of my fellow fishermen decided to follow the man. His “mission” was made clear to them. This man named Jesus told them that they would now become fishers of men. A few of them went with Him. Maybe I should have joined them. Perhaps my life would be different if I followed that call. There are times when I wonder why I’m here. What’s my purpose? I try to plan my life the way I think it should go, but that doesn’t seem to work. I lack the faith that those other fishermen had in the man they chose to follow. I wonder what ever happened to them.