The little village of Bethsaida, nicknamed “Fish Hut,” buzzed with excitement. Hundreds of new faces flooded in, drawn by the Nazarene. Tales about him swirled through the crowd, as varied as the people themselves.Simon was exhausted.
The past few days had spun into a blur of confusion. Last night on the boat, everyone felt it—Simon wasn’t himself. Normally, he commanded with vigor, eyes sharp for every shift in wind or water, ego as big as his reputation. But last night, he’d been a shadow—distant, mechanical, lost in thought.
Andrew had to step in when James and John started bickering, their voices rising like a storm. Simon usually quashed their squabbles before they flared. Not this time. The boat rocked with discord and returned empty of fish.
Finally, Simon did the unthinkable. “Go back to shore,” he told the sons of Zebedee, voice low and steady. “Fish with your father today. He’ll be glad for the help. There’s nothing out here.”
James blinked. “Are you dismissing us?”
Simon shook his head. “No. We’ll go again later. Daylight’s breaking. We’re done.”
The brothers were too stunned to argue, their spat forgotten.
Back on shore, Bethsaida hummed with anticipation. Word of Simon’s mother-in-law’s healing had spread, fueling the festive air. Simon saw the spark in Andrew’s eyes—he’d be no use here. “Go,” Simon said. “Run and see him. I’ll handle the boat.”
Andrew leaped over the bow, landing like a panther on the pebbles, and bolted toward the crowd.
Simon crouched, a calloused hand brushing the sodden nets—hours in the Sea of Galilee, nothing to show. He didn’t want to bother. Nearby, James and John helped their father, Zebedee, washing nets with care. They glanced at Simon, wary. Usually, he’d be racing to outshine them. Today, he felt adrift. Nets still tangled, he abandoned routine—something he never did—and longed to hold his wife, maybe even talk about it all.
The shore pebbles gleamed in the sun, wind rising with the clamor of the approaching crowd. Simon looked up. Jesus strode toward him, same deliberate pace as that night, hundreds pressing behind. Two boats stood between the throng and Lake Gennesaret. Simon knew which one Jesus wanted.
“Simon! Push us out! They’ll hear my Father’s word best from there.”
They stepped aboard together. Simon let out just enough anchor rope, giving Jesus space. Jesus flipped a fish basket, sat, and the crowd settled on cue—a sprawling, impromptu schoolhouse on Galilee’s edge.
His voice rang out, laced with power Simon had never heard. People had whispered about this message—synagogues packed with listeners. Now Simon heard it raw.
“You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its taste, how can it be restored? It’s good for nothing but to be tossed out, trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A city on a hill can’t hide. No one lights a lamp to cover it with a basket—they set it high to shine for all. So let your light blaze before others, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”
Simon knew little of the ancient Word, never cared to. But Jesus’ words gripped him—impossible to tune out. He recognized snippets from Moses, echoes of Isaiah and Jeremiah. Then came something new, something no Galilean had ever heard.
“I haven’t come to abolish the Law or the Prophets—I’ve come to fulfill them. Not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is done. Whoever slackens the least commandment and teaches others to do the same will be least in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever keeps and teaches them will be great. Unless your righteousness surpasses the scribes and Pharisees, you’ll never enter.”
Jesus spoke for hours, past the third hour, then stopped. He turned to Simon alone.
“Simon, let’s go fishing. Put out into the deep. Let down your nets.”
The crowd drifted back to shore, but Andrew swam to the boat, grinning. Simon stood. “Master—” Jesus didn’t flinch at the title this time. “We toiled all night and caught nothing. There’s no point.”
Jesus righted the basket, calm. “Put out into the deep. Let down your nets.”
Simon glanced at the other boat—Zebedee’s crew trailing, curious. “Seven miles behind us, seven to the west. A ridge drops over a hundred feet right here. Deep enough?”
Andrew laughed. Jesus smiled, childlike, drinking in the sun, the wind, the water. Simon peered down—the shallow bottom vanished into a blue abyss, sharper and purer than he’d ever noticed.
“Alright, Andrew. At the Master’s word, drop the nets.”
Jesus pitched in, hands on the ropes. The last net barely unfurled when the boat lurched—fish flooded in, rocking it hard. Both sides filled, balancing the haul but threatening to sink it.
“Andrew, pull!” Simon shouted, regretting he’d sent James and John away. A net snapped, dragging off the side. “Zebedee! Quick—we need help!”
Jesus and Andrew wrestled the broken net while Simon piled fish to steady the boat. Soon, his craft brimmed, another net still to haul. Zebedee’s boat filled too.
“These are your fish!” James called. “We’ll bring them in!”
“No,” Simon waved them off. “They’re yours. These aren’t mine.”
Jesus froze, eyes locking on Simon. Days ago, Simon had wept in the dark, wondering if God cared. Now, light bared him—his pride, his bluster, his cold heart, his years of pushing others down. He collapsed into the writhing fish, a cry tearing from his throat, shrill above the gulls.
“Get away from me!” Strange words over a deep trench in Gennesaret. “Please, Lord, depart—I’m a sinful man!”
Andrew dropped to his knees, prayers answered before his eyes. Healing a fever could be debated. This—a broken Simon, weeping without shame—was undeniable.
James and John stood like statues, awestruck. The catch meant nothing now. Simon was unraveling.
Jesus knew the chaos in him. He gripped Simon’s hand, voice steady with authority. “Do not be afraid.” Truth pierced Simon—he’d lived ruled by fear: failure, judgment, exposure as a fraud. Jesus hauled him up, strength enough to land both nets alone.
“Hear me, Simon. From now on, you’ll catch men.”
They reached shore, changed forever as sandals hit pebbles. Jesus walked ahead, hand outstretched, words ringing official: “Come, follow me.”
Andrew, James, John, and Simon left it all—boats, nets, heaps of fish. Zebedee watched, understanding.
Jesus touched Simon once more. “You are Simon, son of John. You shall be called Peter.”
Simon didn’t balk. It was time to walk with the Lord.
Song 3- Depart from Me
(Verse 1)
The dawn broke over Bethsaida's shore,
Empty nets and an empty core.
Through the night, I cast and toiled,
But all my strength had been uncoiled.
(Pre-Chorus)
Then He walked down through the tide,
With a voice like the rolling sky.
He stepped aboard and sat to teach,
Words like fire, yet soft as the breeze.
(Chorus)
Depart from me, O Holy One,
I am a man undone.
The weight of mercy bends my knee,
How could You call someone like me?
(Verse 2)
A thousand faces lined the shore,
But His eyes saw through my core.
He spoke of light upon a hill,
Yet in my soul, the dark was still.
(Pre-Chorus)
Then He said, "Go cast again,"
Though the sea had long been spent.
At His word, the depths gave way,
And my pride was swept away.
(Chorus)
Depart from me!, O Holy One,
I am a man undone.
The weight of mercy bends my knee,
How could You call someone like me?
(Bridge)
The nets were tearing, the boats ran deep,
But the burden in my soul ran steep.
Falling down among the fish,
I cried a prayer, my only wish.
(Chorus)
Depart from me! O Holy One,
I am a man undone.
The weight of mercy bends my knee,
How could You call someone like me?
(Outro)
But He took my hand and said, "Do not fear,"
A voice so strong, yet drawing near.
"From now on, you'll cast for men,"
And I knew my life began again.