Why it's Important to Jump to Jesus

I'd like to add one more goal to your list of resolutions for this new year; if you don't mind.

Jump to Jesus.

Let me explain.

I was reading the New Testament the other morning, in the book of John, about the resurrected Christ and his miracles. When suddenly I found a new little nugget of information that excited me.

Physically. Spiritually. Emotionally.

At this point in the story, Jesus has already been crucified and has appeared to his disciples in the flesh. But, he leaves them again. The disciples are left alone, likely wondering if and when they might see Jesus again, with the emphasis on if.

Peter says to the other disciples (he's got six of them with him): "I'm going out to fish." Remember, he was basically telling them, "I'm going to work," since he was a fisherman by trade.

"We'll go with you," The other six disciples tell him. Off they go to fish in the Sea of Galilee.

They fished all night and ended up catching zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing.

I put myself in Peter's shoes while I was reading. He's likely filled with hope and also discouragement. His master, his best friend is gone and he is unsure of when he will see him again. I'm betting he felt like he was doing the same old thing again—fishing—when he had just finished walking besides the Savior of the world doing miracles, healing people, and sitting at the feet of Jesus. I'm thinking fishing wasn't too exciting for him at that moment.

Then things change. Fast.

Suddenly, a stranger from the shore of the Sea of Galilee shouts out to the disciples on the boat. "Hey, Friends, haven't you caught any fish?"

"No," They answer back.

"Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some fish," The stranger yells out to the disciples. They listen to this stranger and a large number of fish filled the net, so large they couldn't even haul it in. The boat leans to the right.

The epiphany hits Peter. Nets. Fish. Miracles.

Surely, this is Jesus. His Savior.

"It is the Lord!" As soon as Peter heard him say it he wrapped his outer garment around him—for he had taken it off—and jumped into the water.

Boom. There it is.

The second he knew it was Jesus on the shore—he jumped.

He didn't wait for the nets to get gathered up. He didn't wait for the fish to be pulled onto the boat. He didn't wait for the other guys to make a decision together. He didn't wait to turn the boat around. He didn't wait for anything.

He just jumped.

Off the boat.

In his clothes. 

And into the Sea.

Wow.

It hit me like a ton of bricks when I was reading it. The other disciples took the necessary precautions and gathered the fish and their supplies. The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish.

Not Peter.

The minute he knew it was Jesus—he jumped.

I stopped and asked myself. If I knew Jesus was on the shore would I jump to him? Or would I stay safely in the boat?

My answer: I'd jump (even into the sea).

In our day and age, Jesus is at the shoreline of our lives. Daily. He walks the shores of our problems, concerns, broken hearts, lost dreams, grief, heavy burdens, and our loss. He walks the shoreline of our lives when we lose a job, or don’t get the house, or lose a long-time friendship, or get the bad news about our health. He walks the shoreline of our lives when we sign the divorce paperwork or as we hold the hand of a loved one dying. He walks the shoreline of our deepest anguish and our strongest anxieties. He walks the shoreline of our self-doubt, our pessimism, and our longing to belong.

He never leaves the shoreline.

He waits patiently for us to come to Him.

My goal is to be like Peter. To jump to Jesus. To jump into his arms. To jump into his safety. To jump into the beauty of his words I can find written so eloquently in the scriptures. I don't want to wait until I think I need him, when my nets are dry. I don't want to unhook the fishing nets. I don't want to carefully concern myself with the large amount of fish I've got to haul in. I don't want to turn my boat around or wait and try and figure out if it is actually Jesus at the shoreline.

The minute I need him. I'm jumping.

Clothes on.

Shoes on.

Messing up my hair and running my mascara.

Getting my clothes wet.

I'm jumping with two feet deep into the Sea of Galilee to meet Jesus at the shoreline of my life, my sorrow, my anxiety, my depression, and the deepest parts of me that need to be filled. Jumping to Jesus means reading my bible and praying daily. It means when the world seems too dark or the circumstances seem too dim, I'll find a quiet place and talk to him. I'll beckon him from the shoreline and wave my hands in the air, "I see you, Jesus. I'm coming!"

Then, like Peter, I'm jumping to Jesus.