I Want Jesus' Heart

"Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus.  Jesus said to them, "Children, you have no fish, have you?" They answered him, "No."  He said to them, "Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some." So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish.  That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea.  But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off."

        There are some things I really want from this story. I want its characters to bequeath some things to me.

        I want John's eyes.  I would never have expected to see Jesus on the beach.  I would never have recognized His form, gathering the firewood, fixing breakfast.  I would never have seen Jesus in a net full of slimy, stinky, squirming fish.  At the end of a long and futile night of work, I would never have seen Him.  How many times has He been on the shoreline of my life and I haven't seen Him?  How many times has He catered breakfast for me and I missed it--I didn't see Him.  I want John's eyes.

        I want Peter's feet.  Even if I had possessed John's eyes, even if I had recognized Jesus, the last thing I would have done is to run through the waves to Him.  I would never have plunged into that dirty lake and swum for Him.  You see, I've been in that stinky boat all night long.  And this is in the days before Arrid Extra Dry.  It isn't just the boat that stinks.  And I'm naked . . . And my clothes have gotten tossed into the bottom of the boat--they're wet and covered with the floating remains of catches past.  I look terrible, smell terrible and I'm hardly dressed.  Do you think I would present myself to Jesus?  Oh, I want Peter's feet.  I want to know that when I'm like that, I can go to Jesus.  I want to learn to run to Him no matter what I look like or smell like.

        But most of all, I want Jesus' heart.  Think about His breakfast options that morning.  He might have kicked back and told the winner of the "Chef of the Universe" to surprise Him or fix His favorite.  Fine china.   Linen tablecloths.  The freshest of flowers.  Thick waffles.  Fruit compote.  The latest edition of The Universal Times.  Instead He comes to cater breakfast for seven men who reek with the odors of decay.  He comes and fixes breakfast for them.  And He seems to enjoy it.  Jesus provides breakfast right when they need it.  As they toil, He plans a miracle.  As they labor, He fixes breakfast.  I want the heart of Jesus.