Recently, I went on a church retreat. Perhaps that sounds fun... unless you are an introvert like me. I like the security of knowing things. Retreats are the opposite of that.

"Where do we park?" "Where are we actually staying?" "Are we the only group that will be there?" "Are we going to do Ice Breakers?" "Is someone going to fill my shoes with shaving cream?" These and a myriad of other questions were rocketing through my brain as my anxiety level increased about this retreat. The icing on the cake was spending the last 45 minutes getting there navigating winding roads out in the middle of nowhere and then narrowly missing a deer that had a death wish.

Needless to say, when we arrived, I was desperately trying to stay calm while my insides were rattling with agitation.

Settling into the first session, I silently offered a simple prayer of surrender shaped by two passages from the Psalms. "Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God" [42:5] and "Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting" [139:23-24].

As the evening's Scripture focus was read, I experienced an unusually strong sense of the peace of God's presence. Quietly breathing during a time of reflection, I realized that just as God physically brought me back to a location I had been to years ago, He also was using this time away to walk with me, back to a place of unresolved pain.

Softly and gently inviting us to engage with the story, the leader read: "It happened this way: Simon Peter, Thomas, Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together. 'I'm going out to fish,' Simon Peter told them, and they said, 'We'll go with you.' So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing."

"Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus. He called out to them, 'Friends, haven't you any fish?' 'No,' they answered. 'Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.' When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish."

"Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, 'It is the Lord!' As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, 'It is the Lord,' he wrapped his outer garment around him and jumped into the water. The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were not far from shore, about a hundred yards. When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread."

"Jesus said to them, 'Bring some of the fish you have just caught.' So Simon Peter climbed back into the boat and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. Jesus said, 'Come and have breakfast'" [John 21: 3-12].

As we reflected on the passage, I sensed those words of Jesus being spoken directly to me, "Come and have breakfast." It was an invitation to exhale, to rest, and to be nourished in deep fellowship with the Holy Spirit.

As I reread the passage, I began to resonate with the experience of that unsuccessful fishing expedition. I couldn't imagine just how awkwardly that question must have landed after their long night. "Friends, haven't you any fish?"

Surely they must have been beating themselves up with the same question. "Why haven't we?"

BOOM! And there it was. The very question I had been silently asking each time I reflected on a long season of leadership in my life that ended as seemingly unsuccessful as that night of fishing. And in the murkiness of that sea water swirled a million questions I had been suppressing with shame. So many dreams... thoughts... hopes... vision... polluted with a lack of courage, tainted with fear, and sealed with regret. And when that season ended, I was burned up and burned out. "Friend, haven't you any fish?"

Can you relate? If you can, may I share with you the comfort and consolation that the Lord generously offered to me?

You are God's friend. Read that again. You are God's friend. He didn't call from the shore, "Hey, Loser! You... yes you... Fishing Failure standing in the boat out there." Instead, He spoke to them based on His relationship with them. He wanted to fellowship with them and to nourish them. That's why He prepared that fire of burning coals with fish on it, and some bread. Whatever you have been through, you are not a failure. "Friend, come and have breakfast. Fellowship with Me and partake of the grace and nourishment I have already provided."

Don't miss the fact that Jesus already had fish on the grill. He could have easily multiplied those fish... but instead, he did something they would never forget... something that I will never forget. He invited them to "bring some of the fish you have just caught."

In those quiet moments at the table in that session, Jesus simply asked me, "What are your 153 fish?" I was a bit startled by the oddity of the question. Embracing a moment to selah, I paused and listened. And with a voice of love and kindness, He continued. "When the disciples obeyed, I made provision. I blessed them. And when they landed, I asked Peter to return to the place of his seeming unfruitfulness. I didn't do that to humiliate him and to rub his nose in his perceived failure. Rather, I asked him to go back so that his season of seeming unfruitfulness would not overshadow the abundance of my provision. There was much to celebrate."

Like a compassionate father, He spoke tenderly. "Son, in your season of leadership, when you responded in obedience, I made provision. I blessed. I provided. I sustained. I nourished. And, I surprised all of you. I want to fellowship with you... I want to heal you... I want to talk with you about that season. You walked away from that season just like the disciples... weary from fishing all night. Look what happened when you 'threw your net on the right side of the boat.' I'm asking you to go back to that place - that long season where you felt like you caught nothing - and to see My 153 large fish."

When I returned from the retreat, I "went back." I reflected, I prayed, and I fellowshipped with Jesus on the shore of that sea, enjoying the firey warmth of His friendship. As we talked, I journaled, I remembered, and I began to rejoice. And while I am not sure I listed 153, like that untorn net full of the Lord's provision, my heart expanded with gratitude as I recounted the miracles He performed during that season... and... what He is doing in me as He continues to refine, heal, restore, and renew.

Friend, what are your 153 large fish? Look at that season, not through your own lenses, but through the eyes of your Father. "In heaven's eyes, there are no losers. In heaven's eyes, no hopeless cause. Only people like you with feelings like me, amazed by the grace we can find in heaven's eyes" [Phil McHugh].

You are seen, you are heard, and you are loved. And now, "To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy - to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen" [Jude 24-25].

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A song that has impacted me during this season is Natalie Layne's Grateful For. If you click below the video, you will be able to see all of the lyrics to this musical exhortation to look for things to be "Grateful For."

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