The sea wouldn’t let them go out that morning.
Dark clouds piled thick over the horizon before dawn. By mid-morning, the winds cut sideways, churning the shoreline into foam. Boats that normally would have been slicing through open waters now sat grounded, pulled high onto the shore. No one launched. No one even tried. The fishermen didn’t look to the sea anymore. They knew how to read the skies.
But one man refused to wait like the rest. One man saw an opportunity.
Most of the fisherman huddled beneath makeshift tarps, swapping stories, watching the sky, waiting for something to change. But one man stayed by his boat. He knelt in the sand and worked with calm, deliberate focus, undeterred by the chaos around him. His nets were torn in a dozen places, the kind of damage easy to overlook when the waters are calm and the catch comes easily. But not today. With a strand of thread clenched in his teeth, he guided it through tear after tear.
Today, there were no fish to chase. But it wouldn’t always be that way. The storm kept him on shore, but it didn’t stop him from preparing. There was work to be done.
So, he mended. Quietly. Faithfully. Not because the moment demanded it, but because the day would come when the nets would be needed. He worked with no fanfare, no applause, only a certainty that the storm would not last forever. And when the sea opened again, he would be ready.
Most never see that part of a fisherman’s work. They imagine the thrill—the cast, the catch, the haul. That’s the story they know. But few think of the slow, unseen hours on the shore—kneeling in the sand, hunched over nets, repairing each break with steady, faithful hands. Few notice the quiet work of repair done while waiting when the seas are closed. But that’s where most of the real work happens—in the quiet. No stage. No spotlight. No one watching. Just the slow grind of faithfulness in hidden places, where there’s no glory to gain and no crowd to applaud.
Only preparation—the kind that changes everything.
What Net-Mending Looks Like for You
You weren’t saved to stand idle on the shore. God didn’t redeem you to passivity. You may not have a title, a platform, or a following, but if you belong to Christ, you’ve been called to prepare.
God’s mission was never reserved for the few. It belongs to all who bear his name. Through God’s sovereign design, every believer has been drafted into kingdom work. The mother teaching Scripture at her kitchen table, the student speaking truth in the classroom, the man or woman standing firm while the world bows to idols—each has been strategically placed by the King.
In biblical Christianity, there are no bystanders. If you belong to Jesus, you’ve been called to the boat. The only question is, are you mending your nets or watching the storm?
We are living in days when the fabric of culture is unraveling—and fast! Truth is no longer denied; it’s despised. Take a moment to read the skies! Tolerance has become a weapon. Biblical conviction is branded as hate speech. But God has not abandoned his people on the shore. He has sovereignly placed his church in this hour for battle, not retreat. Every Christian must be equipped, ready to give an answer, ready to stand without flinching, and ready to carry the hope of the gospel into a world that’s losing its grip on reality.
God may have you in a season where movement feels impossible, but that doesn’t mean you’re not to prepare. This is the time for strengthening your faith, deepening your understanding, and sharpening your discernment, because the storm will lift. And when it does, you will want to be found ready, not scrambling.
Readiness doesn’t grow in the spotlight. It’s not found in comfort. It’s forged in the quiet, under clouded skies, when no one’s clapping and no one’s watching. That’s when the nets for gospel work are prepared.
Here’s what mending your nets looks like:
- Sharpen Your Biblical Vision
Mending your nets begins with knowing the story, the whole story. Not just favorite verses but the big picture, the metanarrative of the story God is telling. Learn how the covenants form the spine of redemptive history. Trace the lines from promise to fulfillment, from Adam to Christ, from the shadow to the substance. Let God’s story shape not only your theology but your instincts so that you can recognize truth, even when it’s buried beneath cultural noise.
- Strengthen Your Convictions
In an age where truth bends to opinion and conviction is treated like hostility, Christians can’t afford to be anemic. Disciples of Christ must have theological steel in their backbones. Read rich books. Wrestle with good questions. Use this season to mend your nets—study, think, prepare. Train in apologetics, not as a weapon to win arguments, but as a tool for faithfulness. Speaking the truth with clarity and compassion is not arrogance. It’s obedience. It’s love.
- Root Yourself in Prayer
The greatest work is often that which no one sees. While others wait for the storm to pass, the one who bows in prayer is already in the fight. Prayer is not a break from the work; it is the work. It’s how the fisherman prepares what will be needed when the waters open again. It’s how the believer takes hold of the promises of God even as the sky is dark and winds are strong. In prayer, we cultivate dependence, receive clarity, and find boldness. The storm might be raging, but the one who kneels in prayer is never unprepared.
- Practice Obedience in the Ordinary
Don’t chase platforms. Don’t seek out spotlights. The fisherman doesn’t need a crowd to start mending his nets. Ministry doesn’t begin when the stage is set; it begins in the ordinary. It doesn’t look like social platforms and pulpits; it looks like everyday life. So, start where you are. Teach your children the Word. Speak truth at your workplace with conviction and grace. Encourage your neighbors. Ask thoughtful questions that open doors. Write what is true. Listen well. Live what you believe. Today, the front lines that advance the kingdom are at kitchen tables, in staff meetings, at front doors, and in backyards.
Don’t Waste the Shore
The church doesn’t need more spectators. It needs soldiers, apologists, moms and dads and students and baristas and engineers and retirees—those who understand that gospel readiness doesn’t begin in the moment of crisis, but in the quiet grind of preparation. Those who see the shore not as a setback, but as that unique space where God prepares hearts for deep waters.
That work won’t go viral. It won’t get applause. But it will matter when the seas open and the opportunities come. And make no mistake—they will open. And when they do, you don’t want to be learning to tie knots when you could be casting nets into deep waters—offering solid answers and speaking with conviction. You want to be ready. Anchored in truth. Sharp. Steady. A bit weather-worn, maybe. But with your nets mended, you won’t hesitate when your moment comes.