St. Luke tells us that on one occasion Jesus was preaching beside the Sea of Galilee. So many people gathered to hear Him that He asked for the use of a boat from which He could address the crowd. A group of fishermen was nearby, washing their nets after a long and disappointing night. Their work was essentially finished, and they were probably eager to return home and rest. Jesus entered Simon Peter’s boat and asked him to put out a short distance from the shore. From there He continued teaching the people.

St. Luke does not tell us what Jesus said to the crowd. Instead, he directs our attention to what happened afterwards. Peter and his companions may have expected the Lord to step ashore once He had finished preaching and allow them to conclude their work. Instead, Jesus turned to Simon and said, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” He was asking the fishermen to begin again precisely when they were tired, discouraged and convinced that further effort would be useless.

Peter answered with complete honesty: “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing.” He and his companions were not amateurs. Fishing was their livelihood, and they knew the lake, the weather and the habits of the fish. They had worked during the hours most favourable for a catch, yet all their experience and effort had produced nothing. We can imagine their physical exhaustion and their frustration as they cleaned empty nets in the morning light. Nevertheless, Peter added, “At your word I will let down the nets.”

The second attempt seemed even less promising than the first. The fishermen were exhausted, their nets had already been partly cleaned, and the time of day was not favourable. The one decisive difference was the presence and word of Christ. When they obeyed Him, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break and they had to call another boat to help them. What human skill and perseverance had failed to accomplish during the night was now achieved through the same men and the same nets because they acted in trustful obedience to Jesus.

The episode teaches us that our effort is necessary but insufficient. Without Christ, even sincere struggle can end in tension, discouragement and the feeling that everything has been useless. We may then blame circumstances, other people or our own limitations for the lack of visible results. With Christ, the same work acquires a different meaning and can become unexpectedly fruitful. The lesson is not that God will always give us the particular success we desire. It is that no effort made at His word and in union with Him is ever sterile.

Holiness does not consist simply in fulfilling a collection of spiritual obligations. It is the life of Christ growing within us through grace. This growth requires action on our part, but it also requires receptivity. We have to work and, at the same time, allow God to work in us. The Christian life is woven from these divine and human threads: God’s initiative and our response, His grace and our freedom. As we advance, our will is meant to become increasingly united to His, until we learn to desire freely what He desires for us.

Near the end of His earthly life, Jesus told Peter that when he was young he had dressed himself and gone wherever he wished, but that in old age another would lead him where he did not wish to go. Peter had once relied heavily upon his own judgment, energy and plans. Through many experiences, including his failures, he learned that discipleship requires us to stretch out our hands and allow Christ to lead. This surrender did not destroy Peter’s freedom or personality. It brought them to maturity by uniting them with the will of God.

Our interior life depends upon the same combination of effort and trust. We might compare them to the two oars of a boat whose sails are filled by the wind of the Holy Spirit. If we use only one oar, the boat turns in circles rather than moving forward. Personal struggle without confidence in God becomes harsh and exhausting, while trust without a serious effort to respond to grace deteriorates into vague good intentions.

When we neglect effort, piety can become sentimental. We desire to be holy and may enjoy thinking or speaking about the spiritual life, but our wishes remain ineffective when sacrifice is required. We fail to begin our prayer on time, resist changing a bad habit or abandon a resolution as soon as it becomes difficult. We may say that we trust God, when in reality we are asking Him to accomplish within us what He wants to accomplish with our free cooperation.

The opposite error is to rely almost entirely upon willpower. We form demanding resolutions, analyse our faults and attempt to force ourselves towards perfection. Prayer then becomes another task to complete, and the struggle is judged mainly by its visible results. When progress proves slower than expected, we grow tense or disappointed. Like the fishermen after their fruitless night, we become tired of casting nets that seem to catch nothing.

We need both arms: a determined struggle and confidence that the result remains in God’s hands. Our Lord asks us to work seriously, but He does not ask us to sanctify ourselves through our own power. Grace always comes first and accompanies every sincere effort. We should therefore strive with all the strength we possess while recognising that the presence of Christ matters more than our natural ability, experience or success.

When we notice that discouragement has entered our struggle, we should ask whether we have been relying too heavily upon ourselves. Perhaps we have begun to think that holiness depends mainly upon our plans, techniques or force of character. We may feel disappointed because a defect remains, prayer is still difficult or our apostolic efforts have produced little visible fruit. At such moments, we need Christ in the boat more than we need another strategy.

Peter did not obey because Jesus had promised an extraordinary catch. The Lord simply told him to lower the nets, and Peter responded because His word was enough. We too should learn to act at the word of Christ without demanding beforehand the consolation of knowing what the result will be. Prayer, the sacraments, work well done and the struggle against our defects remain worthwhile even when their fruit is hidden. Our confidence lies not in the immediate catch but in the One who tells us to cast the nets.

Jesus’ command begins with the words duc in altum: put out into the deep. Interior life requires us to leave the apparent security of the shore. In shallow water we can keep our feet on the bottom and retain a sense of control. Farther out, the waves are stronger, the boat moves beneath us and we become more conscious that we cannot govern every circumstance. Yet the deeper water is where the fishermen can make their catch.

We often resist this invitation because we want to keep some part of our life within easy reach of the shore. We are willing to follow God so long as the path remains clear and the result reasonably predictable. We want to know what He is doing, how much the sacrifice will cost and whether our effort is producing the expected effect. When those assurances disappear, fear can make us retreat towards what seems more manageable.

Jesus frequently reproached His disciples for their lack of faith when they became frightened by the wind and waves. The same reproach can apply to us when we insist upon controlling every aspect of the spiritual journey. We find it difficult to continue when the light is not strong, when feelings do not support us or when circumstances seem to contradict the direction we believed God had given.

Our desire for signs and reference points is understandable. God often provides them through prayer, sound advice, circumstances and the peace that accompanies a prudent decision. Yet we will not mature if we become obsessed with measuring our progress or interpreting every minor event as a confirmation or rejection of our path. A smile, a serious expression, a word of praise or an unexpected setback may colour our judgment far beyond its real importance.

When we are anxious for certainty, we can give excessive meaning to details that have little objective connection with the matter troubling us. One encouraging conversation convinces us that everything is going well, while a criticism makes us doubt an entire vocation or undertaking. We move between confidence and discouragement according to passing impressions. Instead of being guided by faith and prudence, we allow our interior state to be governed by whatever happened most recently.

Growth in the spiritual life does not require complete certainty about every decision. We need reasonable grounds, prayer and advice, especially in important matters, but God sometimes permits an element of uncertainty. This can purify our intention by asking whether we are seeking His will or simply the security of knowing that our own plan will succeed. Trust becomes real when we continue to act faithfully without possessing every answer.

An exaggerated desire for certainty can unite two apparently opposite tendencies. On one side, we rely upon the will and demand that everything conform to a carefully constructed plan. On the other, we seek emotional reassurance and become disturbed when the desired feelings are absent. In both cases, we want the interior life to remain under our control. Abandonment allows God to lead us beyond this narrow security.

The purpose of our struggle is not to produce pleasant feelings. Consolation can help us, and we should receive it gratefully when God gives it. Yet feeling encouraged does not necessarily mean that we are advancing, just as feeling discouraged does not prove that we have failed. Our emotions are affected by temperament, health, fatigue and many other circumstances. They form part of our life, but they cannot provide the final measure of our fidelity.

We may become discouraged by a temptation even though we have not consented to it. The persistence of the thought or desire makes us feel that our struggle has achieved nothing. Yet a temptation resisted can strengthen virtue and become an occasion for turning towards God. The fact that something continues to attract us does not mean that we have chosen it. Our fidelity is found in what we freely do with the temptation, not in whether it disappears immediately.

We can also become upset because a duty or sacrifice remains difficult. We think that after years of struggle we should no longer find prayer, patience or chastity demanding. This expectation may conceal a desire to reach a condition in which holiness no longer costs anything. God may instead allow the struggle to remain so that we continue depending upon Him and offering a real act of love.

Dedication does not always bring the warmth or enthusiasm we would like. We may continue serving God while feeling little satisfaction, and this can make our commitment appear less genuine. In fact, an act of fidelity made without emotional support may be especially pure. We continue because we believe and love, not because the action provides an immediate reward.

We should struggle in the areas subject to our freedom and leave the rest to God. We can choose to begin prayer, reject a temptation, fulfil a duty or ask forgiveness. We cannot command our feelings to change at once, remove every involuntary thought or guarantee the outcome of our effort. Much unrest arises when we demand control over realities that do not fully belong to us.

Abandonment means leaving the result of our struggle in God’s hands after doing what reasonably depends upon us. It does not excuse passivity or carelessness. Peter had to take the boat into deep water and lower the nets. He could not remain on the shore claiming to trust that God would provide fish. Once he had obeyed, however, the catch was no longer under his control.

To go into the deep, we have to release our constant need to feel the bottom beneath us. We entrust ourselves to God even when we cannot measure our progress. This trust is supported by contrition, because the humble recognition of our weakness keeps us close to Christ. We do not pretend that our faults are unimportant, but neither do we treat them as obstacles greater than His mercy.

When Peter and his companions followed the Lord’s direction, the catch was so large that both boats were filled almost to the point of sinking. The abundance revealed to Peter the presence and power of God. He fell at Jesus’ knees and said, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” The miracle did not make him proud of his success. It showed him how little the result depended upon his own skill.

A short time later, Peter and the others brought their boats ashore, left everything and followed Jesus. The catch for which they had worked all night was suddenly no longer the most important thing. Its true purpose had been to lead them towards Christ. Once they recognised Him, they could leave even the miraculous abundance behind because the Giver mattered more than the gift.

The failure of the previous night prepared Peter to understand the miracle. Had he enjoyed an unusually good catch through his ordinary effort, he might have thanked God without recognising how completely he depended upon Him. The empty nets made the Lord’s action unmistakable. Peter learned through failure what success alone might never have taught him.

God often uses our defeats in the same way. A failed resolution, a persistent defect or an apostolic effort that appears unfruitful can reveal the limits of self-reliance. The failure is not good in itself, and we should continue struggling to correct what is wrong. Yet if it leads us to humility and a deeper trust in Christ, grace has drawn something valuable from it.

We should therefore learn to accept ourselves as we are while continuing to desire growth. This acceptance is not complacency. We do not approve of our faults or abandon the effort to overcome them. We acknowledge the real person whom God loves and is sanctifying, rather than fighting an imaginary battle on behalf of the flawless person we wish we already were.

The Word became flesh and accepted the genuine limitations of human life. Jesus experienced tiredness, hunger and the ordinary dependence proper to childhood and family life. He did not assume sin or moral disorder, but He entered fully into the condition of human weakness. If we are to become like Christ, we must also learn to live peacefully with the limits inherent in our nature and circumstances.

We sometimes rebel against these limitations because they wound our pride. We wish to possess more energy, intelligence, patience or emotional stability. We compare ourselves with others and imagine that we could serve God better if we had their qualities. Yet the path to holiness begins from the reality God has given us, not from the person we might have been under different circumstances.

Some limitations can be improved through effort, formation or professional help, and we should use the means available. Others remain and must be incorporated into our way of serving God. A chronic illness, a difficult temperament or a lack of particular talents may restrict some possibilities while opening others. God’s providence is not defeated by the boundaries of our nature.

A calm awareness of our unworthiness can lead us to discover Christ beside us. When the nets contain fish far beyond what our strength could produce, we recognise that the fruit belongs to God. This experience does not humiliate us in a way that destroys confidence. It fills us with gratitude because we see that He is willing to act through weak instruments.

Contrition becomes a path of joy when it brings us promptly back to the Lord. We acknowledge the failure without dramatizing it, ask forgiveness and begin again. The person who waits to feel worthy before approaching Christ will remain at a distance. Peter fell at Jesus’ feet precisely because he knew himself to be a sinner, and Christ responded not by sending him away but by calling him to a greater mission.

The interior life consists largely in beginning and beginning again. We make resolutions sincerely and later fail to keep them. We become distracted in prayer, speak impatiently or return to an old habit. The secret of peace is not to imagine that these failures will never occur but to refuse to remain on the ground when they do.

Beginning again requires humility because it forces us to admit that our previous determination was not sufficient. It also requires hope, since we trust that another effort remains worthwhile. Discouragement tells us that repeated failure has made a new beginning pointless. Grace tells us that every sincere return can become deeper and more fruitful than the one before.

We should not grow tired of returning to God. His patience is greater than our weakness, and He is never surprised by the defects we discover. Each act of contrition opens the soul again to the action of the Holy Spirit. We cooperate with Him through our struggle without trying to occupy His place.

This balance gives us both effectiveness and peace. We work with all our strength because love does not remain passive. At the same time, we trust completely because holiness is finally God’s work within us. We neither wait idly for grace to do everything nor behave as though our salvation were a personal construction.

Trust in God also changes the way we interpret apostolic results. We may speak, invite, serve and pray for someone without seeing any change. The empty nets can tempt us to conclude that our effort has failed. Yet fruit may be developing in ways hidden from us, or God may be using the apparent failure to purify our motives. Our task is to act faithfully at Christ’s word.

Even when a visible catch is given, we should remember its purpose. Apostolic fruit is meant to bring people to Christ, not to confirm our importance or ability. Like Peter, we should recognise the Lord in the abundance and remain ready to leave the satisfaction of success behind in order to follow Him more closely.

The account of the miraculous catch brings together the essential elements of the spiritual life. The fishermen work seriously, acknowledge their failure, trust the word of Jesus and make another effort. They venture into deep water, receive a result beyond their power and discover their own unworthiness in the light of God’s closeness. Contrition then leads not to withdrawal but to a more complete following of Christ.

We can live the same movement in our daily struggle. We use our intelligence, experience and will, but we do not make them our final support. We allow Christ into the boat and act because He asks us, even when the circumstances seem unpromising. We resist the demand for constant reassurance and accept that the deeper waters of faith will sometimes leave us without familiar points of reference.

When our effort fails, we need not interpret the empty nets as a judgment upon our whole life. They may be preparing us to recognise God more clearly. We examine what can be improved, ask forgiveness for genuine negligence and then listen again for the Lord’s word. He may ask us to lower the same nets in the same place once more.

Trust is therefore inseparable from perseverance. We believe not merely that God can act, but that it remains worthwhile to respond to Him after disappointment. Peter’s obedience was valuable precisely because it came after a fruitless night. He trusted when his experience suggested that another attempt made little sense.

Our Lord may ask something similar of us. We may need to return to prayer after a period of dryness, renew an apostolic friendship that appears unresponsive or begin again in a struggle where we have fallen repeatedly. Humanly, we may expect little. Faith answers, “At your word I will let down the nets.”

Our Lady can help us acquire this trust. At the Annunciation she surrendered to a plan she could not fully understand, and throughout her life she continued to believe when events seemed to contradict the promise. At Cana she told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you,” directing them towards the same obedient trust shown by Peter.

We can ask Mary to help us unite effort with abandonment. She will teach us to act generously without anxiety, accept our limitations without discouragement and recognise the presence of Christ in both the empty and the overflowing nets. Under her guidance, we learn that our security lies not in controlling the journey but in remaining close to her Son.

The boat of our interior life will continue to encounter fatigue, uncertainty and changing winds. We will sometimes feel that we are advancing and at other times seem to be moving in circles. The Holy Spirit remains present, and the two oars are still within our hands. We struggle faithfully and trust without reserve.

This is the way forward: to do what depends upon us, leave the outcome to God and begin again whenever necessary. We put out into the deep because Christ is in the boat. We lower the nets because He has spoken. Whether the catch is visible or hidden, our effort remains fruitful when it is united to Him.

Peter discovered that the Lord was closer in his failure than he had realised. The empty night was not wasted; it prepared him for an encounter that changed his life. Our own limitations and disappointments can do the same. When they lead us towards contrition and trust, we discover that Christ has not been absent from the struggle. He has been using it to draw us farther from the shore and closer to Himself.

*By the Via Virtutis team
Photo by Heike Mintel on Unsplash