For The Sake Of The Call

Nobody clapped for the fishermen when they left their nets behind. There were no banners strung across the shoreline, no crowds lining the beach to honor their bravery. Just a few simple men, standing with empty hands at the water’s edge, staring into a future they couldn’t possibly comprehend.

The world might have called them reckless, even foolish. To give up the known for the unknown? To walk away from security, family, and livelihood in order to follow a teacher with no guarantee of where the road would lead? And yet—they went. Not for applause, not for gain, not for recognition. They went because they heard a voice that stirred something deep in their souls. “Come, follow Me.”

And they came. With reckless abandon, they came.

That’s the beauty of the call of Christ—it rarely comes with a roadmap, rarely with assurances of ease. It is not a call to comfort, but a call to surrender. Not a call to build our kingdoms, but to abandon them. Not a call to understand everything, but to trust the One who already holds everything in His hands.

And in that way, I see echoes of the disciples’ journey in ours. A year and a half ago, when Tim collapsed, our life was upended in a single, jarring moment. Everything we thought was steady and sure shifted beneath us. The path ahead became a blur, filled with questions, uncertainty, and the ache of grief for the life we once knew.

But even then—even in the ashes of what once was—we heard the same voice. The call that doesn’t promise ease but promises presence. The call that whispers, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” The call that says, “Follow Me, even here. Trust Me, even now.”

And so, step by step, we have followed. Not perfectly. Not without fear. Not without nights of doubt and days of exhaustion. But with hearts that know that the only reason we press on is Jesus Himself. For no other reason at all—but the sake of the call.

The disciples didn’t fully understand what their obedience would mean. They didn’t see the miracles yet, the lives transformed, the empty tomb that would redefine all of history. All they had was His voice—and that was enough.

And perhaps that is the same for us. We don’t see the end of this story yet. We don’t know how all the pieces of our suffering, waiting, and endurance will come together. But we know the One who writes the story. And that is enough.

To live wholly devoted, whether in joy or in pain. To give everything—not for fame, not for earthly gain—but simply because Jesus has called, and we belong to Him. That is the heart of the race we are running. That is the heart of the life we are living. That is the heart of every step forward, even when the way is dark.

And so I say, here and now, what those fishermen declared with their lives on that shoreline:

We will abandon it all for the sake of the call.