The Sea of Galilee

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(Matthew 4.12-22; Mark 1.14-20; Luke 4.14,15; 5.1-11)
 
I labor with my hands.
Hard calloused hands.
 
I know work and little rest.
My night is finished,
but you ask me to cast out one more time.
 
See these hands, teacher,
these tired hands.
They have mended nets
torn by a day’s drudgery.
 
See these muscles,
they are weary and seared.
I have nothing to show for my efforts
but sweat and ingrained filth.
 
And you ask me to cast out on the sea again.
 
My brother hears you speak
and he brings you to me,
hoping I will listen.
Your words excite James and John,
but they see life differently than I.
 
I need to feed my family.
My brother and Zebedee’s sons chase prophets
and harbor dreams
that our world might be different,
                some day.
 
Your eyes look into my soul.
What do you see in me?
A body fatigued from its labor.
A soul trapped in trial.
I do as I say and not as I wish
 
You preach without words,
simply a knowing gaze
                in your eyes,
and despite my stubbornness I listen.
And our nets are cast overboard one last time.
 
I am prone to fall on my knees
as the seams of our nets burst with fish.
I do not deserve
the miracle you give.
 
I am a wretched sinner
who has no merit to speak your name,
but you can take these hands,
these calloused and tired hands,
and cause them to labor
 
                                for You. 


copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr

From the Collection; Pictures of the Messiah


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