Grace to you and peace from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken...

Drawn as I was to the second lesson today—my favorite in all of scripture, a word came to me as a new insight into this gospel text. Conviction.

Sorrow for Sin and Guilt

Both Peter and Isaiah have the same reaction to recognizing that they're in the presence of God. Before the God whose glory fills the whole earth Isaiah says, "Woe is me! I am lost, for I am of unclean lips." And Peter, witnessing the miraculous catch of fish, falls at Jesus' knees and pleads, "Go away from me Lord, for I am sinful!" For both, an encounter with God results in a confession of unworthiness. For both, the recognition of God's presence brings personal profound awareness of their own sinfulness. For both, an epiphany brings conviction as an experience of guilt.

The word "conviction" carries a multitude of meanings, some positive, some negative. I think, for example, of the legal use. A conviction is what occurs immediately prior to sentencing, after adequate proof of a crime is presented and a jury or judge reaches a verdict of "guilty." Conviction brings an attribution of guilt, and punishment for the crime is imminent.

In many ways, this use of the word fits the text before us. Peter's realization that Jesus was none other than the holy Son of God brings to his heart the same kind of fear and awe that must come with the sounding of the gavel at a trial. The senses are flooded with guilt, remorse, palpable grief at shameful acts, and a dread awe both at the power of the one before you and at the complete appropriateness of the punishment that is no doubt about to come.

Peter is simply unable to stand with this sweep of emotion. He falls to his knees in a completely subservient and worshipful posture. Jesus is no longer just "Rabbi" or "teacher"; now Jesus is "Lord."

When Simon Peter begs Jesus to "Go away from me, Lord," the language of the text suggests that his plea is more than merely a desire for Jesus to move away from him physically. The reference includes the request that Jesus' spirit depart from Simon Peter's own mind and spirit—as though even a mental or spiritual connection between Jesus and Simon is more than Simon can bear, as he recoils at his perverseness in the presence of the Holy One.

This type of conviction, I think, is all too rare today. Shame seems no longer to have much meaning. Witness the events of last Sunday's Superbowl half-time celebration! And I'm speaking more of the suggestive gyrations than of the simple display of flesh. Our culture sexualizes everything that it can. We seem unredeemably prudish about the body and prurient in our interests. I wonder whether shame is being turned upside down, with our being shameful about what God has created and flagrantly callous in our references to its misuse.

On the other side, we make of Jesus a meek and gentle friend whose only job is to embrace us. Of course, Jesus is our most reliable friend and does offer the all-embracing power of grace. But we struggle to appropriate the great cost of that embrace; we miss most of its power of conviction and forgiveness when we pay little attention to the massive debt we owe and the massive sacrifice Jesus made in order to make possible that embrace.

It is that recognition—that conviction—of inadequacy and shame and sin that is necessary, not for the effectiveness of grace, but for its heart-wrenching comprehension—the kind that brings us to our knees. It is only against the background of a true recognition and confession of sin that grace can take on its fullest force of meaning. Otherwise, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer noted, it is a mere "cheap grace." Peter on his knees before his Lord is an example for us of conviction in the face of expensive grace.

Call

Conviction is also connected to our calling—our vocation. Jesus makes that clear by his response to Simon Peter in the text:

Then Jesus said to Simon, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people." When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

Confronted with Jesus' call to discipleship, we may cry with Peter and Isaiah, "I'm not worthy!" We wonder how Jesus could possibly consider us able to fish for people. But Jesus says, "Do not be afraid."

As I approach my installation this afternoon, this is a good word for me—and for you: "Do not be afraid." Because Jesus does not—will not—leave us, we have the confidence to turn away from what we knew before and follow him together. In grace and trust and hope. Because we were first embraced in the gospel net overflowing—filled to breaking—with God's forgiveness and love, we are able to leave everything behind and use old skills in new ways. Like Isaiah we're able to respond, "Here I am, send me," and weave the gospel net that will encircle others in the folds of God's love. We are all, as some of the men in our congregation were reminded at a conference this weekend, kingdom builders!

Confidence

Conviction also suggests confidence. Jesus encourages with his words: "Do not be afraid." And the encouragement is for a purpose—to catch people. Or, literally, "to catch live people." The Greek verb translated "catching alive" also came to mean, "to restore to life and strength, to revive."

The only other scriptural use of the word for "alive" here [zogreo] is in 2 Timothy 2:26 where it's translated, "to be held captive." That might not sound very appealing. But we might better translate it, "You will be restoring people to life and strength." Or, as John's gospel might put it, "You will be introducing people to abundant living." There's that theme of scarcity versus abundance again!

Though we probably don't want to be caught in a net, we do talk about being "caught up in love" or "captured" by love. Being caught in this particular way is far from an experience of restriction; it can make us feel truly alive, joyful, and energized. It may even imply that when we're confronted with our Lord, we are "captivated." I like that. Perhaps we can think of our discipleship as being captivated by Christ, and therefore having the confidence and conviction to share the wonder of his captivating love.

It is certainly apparent that at the end of our lesson, Peter and some of his friends are captivated by Jesus. They are almost literally "swept off their feet" by him. They leave everything and follow him. Our confident call is to "catch people alive," to bring them to abundant living, to captivate them with the life-giving Word of love, grace, and mercy.

Being Convinced

There are two final aspects of the word conviction that are suggested by the word "convinced."

The first is a conviction that is held as belief, as an unyielding dogma. It can be illustrated by reference to the character Tevye from the musical "Fiddler on the Roof."

You know the story. Tevye, the Jewish dairy farmer in the musical, lives with his wife and five daughters in czarist Russia. Political forces are creating challenges for survival and faith. The changes extend even to traditions of betrothal and marriage. Two daughters promise themselves to men without observing tradition. A poor tailor edges out a butcher. Even an idealist revolutionary makes his way into the family by unorthodox means, and Tevye has arguments with himself and with God that permit him to bend.

But then, when Tevye's third daughter wishes to marry a young Gentile, his deepest religious convictions are violated. It's unthinkable that one of his daughters would marry outside the faith. Once again, he argues with himself. He knows that his daughter is deeply in love, and he doesn't want her to be unhappy. Still, he can't deny his convictions. "How can I turn my back on my faith, my people?" he asks himself. "If I try and bend that far, I'll break!" Tevye pauses and begins a response: "On the other hand..." He pauses again, and then he shouts: "No! There is no other hand!" (Richard J. Mouw, Uncommon Decency, pp. 123-124, adapted)

That type of conviction—being so convinced about something that it is held as unyielding dogma—is a dangerous thing. Sorting out what is central and what is not about our faith is one of the challenges our Church faces as we deal with the potentially divisive issues related to our understanding of ministry and to our study of human sexuality. We must hold the center, but discovering what that is can be a painful and difficult process. Perhaps Tevye's whispered recognition, at the end of the musical, of the daughter he has shunned is a sign of hope for us.

The other sense of conviction suggested by "convinced" has to do with our behavior rather than our beliefs. Today's gospel presents Peter, by virtue of confrontation with Jesus' power and Jesus' call, with the choice of both what he believes and what he will do about what he believes. The word "convinced" embraces both the sense of conviction as firmly-held belief (like Tevye) and of the call to discipleship (as for Peter).

Conviction, to put it simply, is not only what happens within us when faced with God's power and grace. It is also lived out in what we do once we have grasped our great good fortune that our God is a forgiving God who became one of us, suffered, died, and rose for us. Let me illustrate with a story:

In a concentration camp of American prisoners, the guards had so intimidated the prisoners and so violated every code of civilized treatment that conditions were horrible. The prisoners had tried to cope by a dog-eat-dog existence. To survive, each man was out for himself. Prisoners stole food and medical supplies for themselves, robbed from each other, ratted on other prisoners in order to get favors from the guards, and isolated new prisoners who came into the camp.

One day as they were coming in from work detail and putting away the tools, it was discovered that a shovel was missing. The guards were irate; they lined the prisoners up and threatened them. Finally, the guards said, "If the person who stole that shovel does not come forward in ten seconds, we're going to shoot all of you."

After what seemed a long silence, one of the prisoners finally stepped forward. The guards pounced on him, beat him with their gun butts, and then shot him to death.

When the guards told the prisoners to finish putting away the tools, a strange thing was discovered. All the shovels were there. No shovel had been missing after all. In shock and silence, the prisoners went back to their barracks.

It took a while to sink in that one of the prisoners had voluntarily given his life so that the rest would not be shot, and gradually the attitudes of the prisoners began to change in the camp. Other acts of sacrifice began to take place. Prisoners began to share medical supplies with each other, and to form teams to attend to each other's wounds and illnesses. Some made artificial limbs for those who had lost an arm or a leg in the war. Some sick prisoners in the camp actually gave up their food to weak prisoners who had a greater chance of survival. Others risked death by sneaking outside the camp to procure extra food for the sick. They established a secret system of communication to give each other information and support. They welcomed new prisoners and quickly incorporated them into their network. The generosity was contagious.

In the midst of the most horrible conditions, there emerged a remarkably humane society of prisoners, all made possible because of the effect of this one fellow prisoner who gave his life that they might live. (Ernest Gordon, "Through the Valley of the Kwai", Harper, 1962)

Today's text from Luke leads us in the same direction by many forms of conviction. Our Lord's glory and self-giving bring Peter and us to a full and honest awareness of both who God is and who we are. In the face of what Jesus has done for us, we in the Church live gratefully and abundantly, so that there may emerge among us a remarkably humane society of all those who have been captivated by Christ, regardless of our dogmatic or personal prejudices. We are fishers of people, not to snare, but to embrace with a captivating love. Amen.