And Peter went out and wept bitterly.“
Luke 22:62
Photocrom print ca. 1890-1910
In first-century Palestine, fishermen plied their trade at night when the fish couldn’t see their nets. But on this particular night, they had come up empty-handed. And now, as they were cleaning up and calling it a day, a landlubber, a carpenter, has the chutzpah to tell them to push into deeper water and try again. Simon Peter doesn’t think much of the idea.
But there’s something about this carpenter that commands respect. Not to mention that a few days earlier he had healed Peter’s mother-in-law of a nasty fever. So, Peter, perhaps with a shrug of the shoulders, gives the word to the others: “Lower the nets, boys. We’ll humor the guy.” And then a miracle… the catch of a lifetime!
Peter, understandably, is shocked. And scared. “Go away from me Lord! I’m a sinful man!” he cries.
I can’t help but wonder what else Peter might have said (or wanted to say) in that moment. Perhaps something along the lines of Can you come again tomorrow? We’ll toss our nets wherever you like… Deep water, shallow… the Mediterranean Sea… Maybe you’d like to be a partner in the business…
But the Lord had other plans. “Follow me and I’ll make you fishers of men,” he said. And they pulled their boats onto the beach and left everything behind to follow Jesus.
It reminds me of another story… Perhaps you know it.
In 1519, the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés landed off the coast of Mexico with five hundred plus men spread across eleven ships. Once the men and supplies were on shore, he scuttled all the ships but one! There would be no turning back now. We will conquer this land for Spain or perish in the trying, Cortés seemed to be saying.
And let us remember that Señor Cortés and his men were not just in search of Aztec gold. While admittedly that was their chief ambition, obsession even, there was another side to the story as well. Francisco López de Gómara, a historian of the era, summed it up this way: “Even though it may bring us honor and profit, the principal reason for our coming to these parts is to glorify God and preach the faith of Jesus Christ…”
Bernal Díaz del Castillo, one of the conquistadores accompanying Cortés, put it succinctly in his memoir: “We came to serve God and get rich, as all men wish to do.”
It may surprise you to know that the blood of conquistadores runs through my veins. On my mother’s side of the family, we trace our heritage to Spanish settlers in what is today New Mexico (some annals trace the family line as far back as the 1500s and Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca, the conquistador who wandered for nine years through the American southwest making friends among the Native Americans). Imagine this… Cabeza de Vaca’s journey began in what is today Tampa, Florida, the city of my birth! Maybe I am a “chip off the old block” after all.
Not to make over much of the comparison, but I will say that, as a new Christian, I became something of a conquistador myself, though I would prefer to call myself a conquistado instead, that is “one who is conquered.” Jesus, you see, had won me over; he had captured my heart and the change was profound. The same day I surrendered my life to him, I abandoned any thought of becoming a filmmaker (which had been my earlier ambition in life). Instead, I set out to become a missionary, thinking that was the best and most honorable way I could serve my Redeemer. And so, it was. For two years, I became a missionary at Latin America Mission in Coral Gables, Florida.
During that time, I read my Bible a lot and one day, my eyes—and my heart—settled on Luke 12:33: “Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide bags for yourselves that wax not old, a treasure in the heavens that will never fail, where no thief comes near, and no moth corrupts.” I remember thinking: Your life is about to change radically…
But there was a wrinkle to it. As I contemplated what amounted to taking a vow of poverty, I was becoming increasingly convinced that God was calling me to be a filmmaker after all. On the surface of it, that didn’t make sense. How could he be calling me to do something requiring millions of dollars to be effective (filmmaking) while at the same time asking me to divest myself of my worldly possessions (in obedience to his Word)? How will this work? Perhaps Captain Cortés provided a clue: Scuttle the ships!
And so, with my wife’s agreement, we sold everything we had and gave the proceeds to the poor, holding back just enough to buy an old beat-up Winnebago to live in. Then one fine day in September 1984, we left Latin America Mission and headed north to launch Messenger Films in New York City.
About thirty miles north of Tampa, the Winnebago began making strange, troubling sounds and another twenty miles further along it broke down completely and had to be towed to a nearby garage. The “garage” was a homespun affair among the palmetto trees.
We were in the middle of nowhere. Night was coming. Not to worry, though. We prayed and I shared Christ with the mechanic—a man a few years older than me—who crawled under the engine and began hammering away and swearing as night fell. I kept talking to him, though, sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ as he labored over the engine. Before long, he had stopped his swearing and was working steadily and quietly. He rigged a light to overcome the darkness and an hour or so later emerged victorious. Our motorhome was repaired. When I offered to pay him for his services, he wouldn’t take the money and promised to go to church that Sunday. He did a good job on the Winnebago, too! It ran without further incident and a few days later, we crossed the Verrazano Narrows Bridge into the Promised Land of Staten Island, New York.
The ministry of Messenger Films didn’t take off that day. Or a week later… or a month later… or even years later. But it did begin to take shape. Through all the struggles and hardships that followed, the tears and sighs and disappointments, the times of joy, too, films began to get made for the glory of God. I’m still not rich from any of these movies, but I will tell you something: The Lord has used me and my associates and our films to “catch men.” And here we are, all this time later, still at work in the fields.
Our work hasn’t ended, and why should it? We are about our Master’s business, and we must work while it is yet day. For the night comes when no one can work.
Yeah, I left my fishing boat behind when Christ called me, but what do they say about the two happiest days in a boat owner’s life? Answer: The day he buys the boat and the day he sells it.
And I’m content. No regrets. “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die,” wrote Dietrich Bonhoeffer in The Cost of Discipleship. No turning back. New ventures ahead.
Faithfully yours,
P.S. Our documentary Daniel’s Garden is fully finished and will be on Amazon soon. We’ll keep you posted!
P.S. 2 Daniel’s Garden has been named a semi-finalist at the Courage Film Festival in Berlin, Germany.
