Haven't You Any Fish?

[Resurrection Station #5 – John 21]

Haven’t you any fish?

In a moment that I suspect was meant to be intentionally reminiscent of one of his first encounters with these disciples, Jesus calls to them in their boats after a night of unsuccessful fishing: “Haven’t you any fish? No? Aw, that’s a shame.” Then he tells them to throw their nets on the other side – and once again, their catch is suddenly too large for them to even haul in.

On one level, this seems like a story I wouldn’t relate much to. I don’t fish. Oh, Lord, no. Physical labor in general is not my cup of tea . . . not that I’m proud of this fact. As much as I greatly appreciate and admire people who do the work to fulfill that essential need to get food on my table, I have little to no interest in taking part in that process. Not my gifting, y’all – not my kind of work, although I honestly wish it was some days. I deal with words and ideas and people, stuff higher up in Maslow’s hierarchy.

Maslow, anyone? Abraham Maslow? The Hierarchy of Needs? It’s a theory about human motivation, explaining why we do what we do. Our actions are driven by the needs that are not being met in our life or that were neglected in early stages of our life. The theory is illustrated in a pyramid with physiological needs at the bottom: food, air, water, and such. Maslow tells us that if a person is wallowing in these basic needs, they can’t move on to other concerns like safety, love and belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. We need our lower-level needs met before we are free to pursue the higher-level needs.

And so here we see Jesus meeting one of those base-of-the-pyramid needs: the disciples require breakfast this morning before he can do any more with them. Cuz he knows us even better than Abraham Maslow does.

I did notice, however, that the fish the disciples caught were not critical to his purpose. When they landed, Jesus already had a fire going with some fish cooking and some bread. He was going to ensure they got fed one way or the other, whether they chose to participate in the process or not. Ultimately, there was to be no question that he was the source of their daily bread (or fish).

But I also notice that he doesn’t limit himself to their bottom-of-the-pyramid needs. He invites them to add some of their own catch to the feast. Their work had value to him. He wanted to eat their fish, too. That’s esteem – level four for Maslow. These boys were fisherman by trade, at least they were before Jesus called them away. I suspect that an unsuccessful night ploughing away at their previous profession might have been discouraging. When the sun rises, he gives them success . . . and a reminder that he is the source of their success. They have worth and purpose; they have potential to be realized; they are the hands and feet that he will be working through. Self-actualization – level five.

His disciples are needy this morning, and he is meeting all of their needs.

I’ve had a needy couple of years, my friends. Suddenly becoming single again put my future in question . . .  along with my income, my security, my worth, and my purpose.

And God has consistently and faithfully met every need. Even those I didn’t know I had.

For sufficient income. For compassionate ears. For lawn care assistance. For intellectual stimulation and affirmation. For healthy meals. For a reliable new car. For meaningful work. For A/C repairs and pest control. For resistance to illness. For peace in conflict. For identity. For joy. For sleep. For hope.

So, to answer today’s question: yes, I do have fish. Every day, I’ve got fish. He gives me each day my daily fish. But he also gently sends me out in the boat to do my own fishing and then graciously uses my catch for his kingdom.

Jesus doesn’t just keep me from being hungry; he keeps me from floundering in insignificance. He meets me at every level of need – even those that I didn’t know I had.

My task for this week of Eastertide: count my daily fish. Look intentionally for all the ways Jesus is actively meeting my needs, both the concrete and the complex. Thank you, Lord. Just thank you, thank you, thank you.

[Did you miss R-Station #4? Read it here.]

[Ready for the next one? Here’s R-Station #6.]

[Wanna start from the top? Here’s #1.]

[“What’s a Resurrection Station?” you ask. Glad you did. Click here.]

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