A Word from the Rector

Friends,

I’m not much of a fisherman, but that doesn’t stop me from trying from time to time. My catch of seaweed, rather than fish, maybe legendary, but some times the nets come up heavy with nothing but damp rope. That’s how the disciples felt when they dragged theirs through Galilee’s night waters—tired hands, empty catch, questions swirling louder than the waves (John 21 : 1-19).  Then, in that soft gray hour before sunrise, a stranger on the shore called out, “Try the other side.”  One cast later the net sagged with abundance, and John whispered the only explanation: “It is the Lord.”

I wonder how we recognize the risen Christ when our own nets feel light—when ballots are counted, headlines roll on, and the future looks different from the one we painted in prayer.  Perhaps recognition begins the way it did that morning: by listening for a voice that still dares to imagine abundance, by trusting a small shift in practice, by hauling in surprises we could never orchestrate.

This week, I invite you to notice the quiet gestures that reveal Jesus at the shoreline of  your everyday life.  Where is someone offering a word of welcome, a plate of breakfast, a new way to cast (offer) your effort (life)?  And how might you echo his invitation—“Come and eat”—for a neighbor who’s been up all night with empty hands?

Bring those stories back on Sunday.  We’ll warm ourselves around the charcoal fire of worship, share what we’ve seen, and hear again the gentle commission that follows recognition: Feed my sheep.

Alex+