Navigating uncharted waters

In the quiet dawn hours on the Sea of Tiberias, seven disciples found themselves in a profound moment of transition. Having witnessed the crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus, they returned to what they knew best—fishing.

This Sunday’s passage in John 21:1–19 offers us a powerful meditation on how we navigate life’s most significant changes.

Peter declares, “I’m going fishing,” and his companions join him. There is something deeply human about this response to uncertainty. When everything has changed, we often retreat to the familiar, to what we once knew with confidence. They had seen their Teacher die on the cross and rise again, yet here they were, back in their boats, casting nets into dark waters.

The irony is striking—after witnessing the most transformative event in human history, they return to their old lives. Yet their nets remain empty all night. Perhaps this emptiness symbolises how our old patterns and securities no longer satisfy us after profound life changes. The familiar shores can no longer hold the expanded reality we’ve glimpsed.

At daybreak, a figure appears on the shore, asking, “Have you caught anything, friends?” When they admit they haven’t, He directs them to cast their nets on the right side of the boat. The abundance that follows—153 large fish—reminds us that transitions, though disorienting, can often lead to unexpected abundance when we follow guidance that challenges our accustomed ways.

The beloved disciple recognises Jesus first: “It is the Lord.” This moment of recognition changes everything. Peter, impulsive as ever, throws himself into the sea to reach Jesus faster. Each disciple responds differently to this pivotal moment, just as we each process the transitions of life in our unique ways, some with contemplative recognition, others with immediate action.

On the shore awaits a charcoal fire with fish and bread. Jesus says simply, “Come and have breakfast.” There is profound intimacy in this invitation.

In our most significant transitions, we need both nourishment and communion. Jesus doesn’t immediately discuss theology or future plans but first attends to their physical and emotional needs, creating space for what comes next.

Only after they’ve eaten does Jesus address Peter, asking three times, “Do you love me?” Each question heals Peter’s threefold denial and reorients his purpose: “Feed my lambs… look after my sheep… Feed my sheep.”

Through this exchange, Peter’s identity transitions from fisherman to shepherd, from one who takes from the sea to one who gives to the flock.

Jesus then tells Peter, “I tell you most solemnly, when you were young you put on your own belt and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands, and somebody else will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather not go.”

This stark prediction signals that true transformation involves surrender, allowing ourselves to be led into unfamiliar territories, into uncharted waters.

The passage concludes with Jesus’ simple command: “Follow me.” In two words, He captures the essence of navigating life’s transitions—not clinging to old patterns or rushing ahead with our plans, but following with trust, one step at a time.

This is one such moment. For as we face our transition as a universal Church preparing to welcome a new spiritual leader, or as a democratic nation adjusting to a new administration to govern the people for the next five years —John 21 reminds us that empty nets often precede abundant catches, that recognition precedes transformation, that nourishment enables mission, and that surrender leads to purpose.

In all our changes, the invitation remains the same: “Follow me.”

As an Easter people, we need to trust that the Resurrected Christ is always with us.