Passing along by the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon, and Andrew the brother of Simon, casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, "Follow me."

It all began just that simply. And unexpectedly. And it must have seemed so uncomplicated at the time. When it all began, there was no real understanding of what was to come, what would be involved, what would be asked of them, what would be required. There could not have been much accurate foreknowing of the both the hurt and the pain, the hope and the promise, the suffering and sorrow and the glory and the grandeur that were all to come, all be part of it, all a part of being called by that man, that man on the beach, who just comes by, comes into those ordinary lives. I wonder if they wondered what would happen. I always do!

I wonder if they had any idea. I never do!

A man, who was for them, and surely remains so for us, so compelling, so inspiring, that his mere presence makes everything else seem insignificant and not to be compared to the wonderful possibilities which would unfold from doing as he asked, trusting him, and setting out to be with him, on his terms. Follow me.

Simon and Andrew were casting a net into the Sea, as they had countless times before. Going about their business, a business as unremarkable as our own business usually is - just the things we do to make a living, to fill our days, to take care of family and friends, just the "regular stuff" of life. In their case they were casting a net into the Sea, going about their lives as best they could. And a man appears in those lives. In their hardworking, probably honest, presumably decent lives, and asks them to leave their lives behind and follow him. And oddly enough, to my way of thinking, they do.

Then the calling continues: Young John and his brother James are called to follow, to set out, to trust this man, to leave everything else behind, to take on a new commitment, to change from being what they were, what they liked being, what they knew, what they were probably at least reasonably good at, and to do something else, to become something else, to leave what they knew and to welcome the unknown, to follow him away from what they had found that they could handle, and called to an unpredictable life and ministry and response to life which they could not have known whether they would be able to handle.

For some reason, they did, and, pretty much, straight-away.

We ourselves have had, or we will have, or we can expect having, such an encounter. It has happened, or is happening, or will happen. Those are the only three options.

For Christians that calling comes usually when we least expect it, are least prepared, almost always while we are distracted with our nets, whatever they might be for each of us. Suddenly, by the Sea of Galilee or wherever, the sea of relatively unremarkable occasions, we glimpse the chance, we see . . . something that is so important, so worthwhile, that we will take the risk, and offer our response - a new, fresh, trusting response that does not seem to care about knowing all the details, or each aspect and every bit of what well be involved.

The total cost.

Somewhere, someday, we will be casting nets, when we are unexpectedly called:

called to minister to a sick and dying friend; or called to address some longstanding addiction, obsession, fear or phobia in our lives, and then called to a new recovery; or called to leave the familiar and the safe; or called to refashion relationships, a friendship - even, sometimes, a marriage, called as we now surley are as a parish to some new way of living together and being ever-more faithful to God, called to just drop the nets and respond, reform our parish life together, to re-examine and re-order our priorities, re-organize our life together, called to a new and redirected life without a polished script, without an accurate description or itinerary. And we don't, and won't, know where any of it will lead. When our Lord calls us we will not know where we will go or where we will end up, or what we will go through. Whether as a parish, a church, a family, or in our lives and in our own families and responsibilities, our work, or our home, or our interests, or even, sometimes our health.

As I said, and believed, two weeks ago, when I was preaching on Isaiah and Gods declaring new things springing forth, most of us do not respond comfortably to changes, to leaving the familiar, the tried and true, in favor of the new, the unexpected. Some people do, of course, some people are thrilled at the prospect, and find it exhilerating and invigorating, some of us do not. There is group of us, I imagine in every church, in every culture, in every age, who face the untested, the unanticipated, with insecurity, worry, nostalgia. And most of us, when called to that sort of thing, will - just like those eager disciples would later, after the initial euphoria of that first day - stumble and grumble, have new worries and old doubts and many second thoughts. But also like them, we will doubtless have renewed intentions, and reinvigorated dreams, and revitalized commitments. That is all very characteristic of those who once were casting their nets and now are following their Lord. Those who once led simple, straight-forward lives, until gathered up into the company of our Lord's followers.

For all our faults and errors and mistakes, we do seek to respond as best we can to the movement of grace in our lives, to opportunities presented by that man Jesus who passes along by our own various Galilean Seas, the places in our lives where we just go about our lives, and where he finds us, and asks us to Follow - following him to something new, different, a little nerve-jarring, but so much more wonderful than mending nets.

We have our faith, our Bible, our Church, so I think, I believe, I know, we will, like those four young fishermen, respond as best we can, to the unexpected intervention in our lives of the call of God and his summons to change and redirect and refashion our plans and our purposes, our commitments and hopes and dreams, our very lives. All of what will issue forth from the encounter, and the call to leave nets and boats and fishing careers is never clear, and that is probably a good thing.

If all that is involved is known beforehand it may mean it is just too predictable, too unremarkable, to really be of God. The good news is, deep down we know that we don't need to know the cost, or how it will all turn out, or what exactly will be involved, just what others things will be asked. All that we need is simply the willingness, the flexibility, the adaptability, the courage, to change, to set out, to follow, to reconsider, to open our lives to the unpredictable, to the invigorating and redemptive relationship to which we are called, by this most wonderful man on the beach, by the shore, walking by, calling to us, as people, as a parish. to be ready and willing to leave everything in order to follow him. He has always been able to get people to answer, to respond, to do it - from then til now, for them and for us. What we will do is unknown, but that we will do it is undoubted - some part of us already knows, as I bet wise, old, silent Zebbedee knew as he looked at his sons - the answer was always going to yes. Because it is our Lord, and he is calling. Them. Us. You.