Ordinary work becomes the place of an extraordinary call.

Leaving the familiar rarely begins with a clean sense of calling. More often it begins as a dull weight: the old boat feels safer, and the nets still carry yesterday's salt.

In the gospel, the brothers are caught mid-task. Simon and Andrew are casting a net; James and John are mending one beside their father. The verbs are ordinary; the call interrupts them while their hands are busy. Matthew tells us they immediately left their nets, immediately left the boat and their father. Jesus does not first explain where the road will end. He says, "Come after me," and by saying it he makes their trade into a sending. You can leave the familiar without despising it when the one who calls is a person, not a plan.

The Son of God who stood on that shore did not remain on it. He carried a human body to the cross and out of the tomb, and he now intercedes for you. So the voice that asks you to leave is the same voice that will not abandon you in the leaving. The Father calls you by name, not because you are fearless, but because you belong to the one who has already been raised.