The Fisherman by Larry Huntsperger Page A

brought the same response it always brought; the crowd surged forward in excitement and anticipation. As always, everyone there brought with them their own private agendas for the Master. Some wanted healing, some had questions they wanted to ask, some came to attack or discredit him, and the rest of us just wanted to be where he was.
    This day, however, the healing-teaching-discussion pattern with which we were so familiar did not occur. When Jesus saw the crowd moving toward him, he stopped, motioned for us to follow, and then led the curious procession to a grassy hillside outside of town. He asked us to sit, waited until the commotion quieted down, and then began to speak.
    â€œThis day I have chosen twelve men from among you to be with me as my disciples. When I call your name, I would like you to join me here at the front.”
    I had never seen a group of people become so quiet so quickly as did that crowd who heard Jesus speak those words. None of us knew what was involved in being designated as one of Jesus’ disciples. We did know, however, that the designation carried with it an honor unlike anything we had ever known before. It was one thing for us to have chosen him as our leader—to follow him where he went, to listen to his teachings, to talk and learn and laugh with him each day. It was altogether different for him to choose us . As I stood there in the silence, waiting for him to speak again, I recalled my foolish antics on that first journey with the Master to the wedding in Cana more than a year ago. I remembered my frantic efforts to impress this man. I remembered thinking what a great addition I would make to his team. I remembered thinking how much he needed someone like me. The memory made me feel foolish. So many things had still not yet changed in my life at that point. But one thing certainly had. I knew Jesus didn’t need me; I needed him.
    To my credit, Jesus’ announcement of his intention to name twelve disciples did not fill me with anxiety. I knew already he would call my name. How could it be otherwise? “You are Simon the son of John; you shall be called Peter.” My future, my life, was bound up in this man.
    The first six names he called came as no surprise to me. “Simon, Andrew, James, John, Nathanael, and Philip, will you join me up here?” We’d all been with the Master from the beginning. Our commitment to him and his to us was certain. The seventh name he spoke, however, took the crowd by surprise. “I would also like you, Matthew, to join me.” No one was more surprised to hear his name than Matthew himself. He was sitting at the very back of the crowd, his eyes fixed not on Jesus but on the ground in front of him. When he heard his name spoken, he looked up, then looked around him, apparently curious to see the man who shared his name—the faithful, obedient, devout Matthew who had just been selected for this great honor. But when no one else stirred, Matthew looked at the Master. To his amazement, Matthew saw that Jesus, and indeed most of the rest of the crowd, was looking at him. For a moment he just sat there, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.
    As I watched Matthew stand and then work his way to the front, I wondered at how such different paths could have led us both to this same spot. I had spent much of the past year dancing around in front of the Lord, frantically waving banners and carrying signs declaring, “Peter is your man!” My boastful flesh assured me that Jesus had indeed chosen wisely when he selected me, and he could certainly not do better than to choose others like me. Matthew, on the other hand, came forward in utter disbelief, still unable to accept what was taking place. His fearful flesh, combined with his sense of shame and failure over his union with the hated Roman Empire, made him feel as though Jesus was making a mistake. Even when he finally reached the six of us standing next to Jesus, he