The Fisherman of Galilee. Part one(Rich Puckett) Peter awoke before dawn, as he always did. The house was quiet except for the faint rustling of the wind outside. The scent of warm bread lingered from last night’s meal, and as he slipped his thick linen tunic over his shoulders, he turned to see his wife stirring. She smiled sleepily, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulder as she reached for him.

**“Another long day?”** she murmured.

Peter leaned down, pressing a rough kiss to her forehead. **“Another long day.”** He grinned, always ready to throw himself into work.

The fishing life had been his destiny from the beginning. His father had owned boats along the Galilean shore, and just as tradition dictated, Peter followed in his footsteps. Fishing was a relentless trade, but Peter was relentless himself—a man built like the hull of a boat, sturdy and unmoving. His companions knew him to be **quick-tempered and firm, a man who never backed down from a fight**. If ever someone suggested a different method or location to cast the nets, Peter would bark at them with sharp impatience. Some called him a bully, but none could deny his skill.

Pulling on his worn leather belt, Peter stepped out into the breaking dawn and made his way toward the docks, where the boat waited—an **ancient vessel of cedar and oak, designed for both strength and flexibility**. Hefting the nets into place alongside his fishing partners, John and James, he inhaled the briny air and prepared for a long day at sea.

### **The Daily Struggles**
They rowed out, the flat-bottomed boat cutting smoothly through the shallows, heading for deeper waters. Hours passed. The sun climbed high, and sweat clung to their skin.

But the fish weren’t biting.

Peter grumbled, rolling his shoulders, casting a glance at John, who was always eager to talk about things other than fish. **“Peter, did you hear about that rabbi in town?”**

Peter snorted, rubbing his calloused hands against his belt. **“Which one? There’s always some teacher with new ideas.”**

**“This one says he’s the Messiah.”**

Peter laughed—**a big, roaring laugh that shook his shoulders**. **“Have you seen any army riding in to take Rome by storm? He’s no Messiah.”**

James, quieter but thoughtful, chimed in. **“I’ve heard he works miracles.”**

Peter scoffed, shaking his head. **“You’d believe anything, James. I bet you think Jonah was really swallowed by a whale.”**

John fixed him with a serious gaze. **“I do. Are you telling me you don’t?”**

Peter waved a dismissive hand but didn’t argue further. Some things were best left alone. **“If the fish won’t bite, maybe we should play dice.”**

It was how they passed the time when the day was slow—casting lots, drinking just enough wine to warm the blood but not cloud the mind. The trade was hard, but they made a living. The routine was predictable, and for all his rough edges, Peter loved his life.

### **The Stranger on the Shore**
Evening came, and their nets remained light. Defeat hung in the air.

Then, **a voice carried across the water**—firm, confident. **“Boys, cast your nets on the other side.”**

Peter looked toward the shore. A lone figure stood there, half-lit by the setting sun. His garments were simple, yet something about him commanded attention.

**“This is foolish,”** Peter grumbled. **“We’ve been at this all day.”**

John was already moving. **“It’s worth a try.”**

Peter sighed and cast the net. A heartbeat passed—then another. Suddenly, **the boat lurched** as the nets filled beyond measure. Fish spilled over the edges as they strained to pull the load in, the weight so great it nearly broke the woven cords.

Peter froze. His heart pounded.

When they reached the shore, his mind was racing—not with the profit they’d make, but with the impossible reality of what had just happened. He turned to the man on the shore, searching his face.

**“Come, follow me,”** the man said. **“I will make you fishers of men.”**

The words settled over Peter like an anchor dropped deep into the sea.

For the first time, he truly looked at the man—and recognition struck like lightning. **“You… You are Jesus of Nazareth.”**

Jesus smiled. **“Come.”**

And just like that, Peter left his boat behind. **He did not look back.**

It was days before he returned home. When he finally did, he sent a young boy, Philip, to tell his wife that he was following the prophet now. **Everything had changed.**

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### **Moral Lesson & Scripture**
Peter’s journey reminds us that **faith often requires us to leave behind what we know—to step into something uncertain, something greater**. He was rough, flawed, quick-tempered—but he was called. And he answered.

**_"And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men."_** — **Matthew 4:19 (KJV)**

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