Every Thursday morning, I log into Zoom to teach English to students in Vietnam. The format is straightforward: we use Scripture passages to build reading competency, working through verses word by word, phrase by phrase. A few weeks ago, we tackled Mark 1:16-18, where Jesus calls His first disciples, Simon and Andrew. What I didn’t expect was how much I would learn about Jesus in the process.
There’s something profoundly illuminating about reading the same three verses over and over again. Details that slip by in casual reading suddenly jump off the page when you’re forced to examine every word, every phrase, every transition.
The scene opens with Jesus simply walking along the shore of the Sea of Galilee. But Mark’s backstory cannot be dismissed. Chapter 1 begins with John the Baptist in the desert wilderness south of Jerusalem, proclaiming Isaiah’s words: “Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths in the wilderness.”
Then Jesus arrives.
At His baptism in the Jordan River, something extraordinary happens—all three persons of the Trinity appear simultaneously: God the Son in the water, God the Spirit descending like a dove from heaven, and God the Father speaking from above: “This is my beloved Son, listen to Him.”
This Trinitarian revelation echoes the very beginning of creation. In Genesis 1, we see early evidence of the Triune God: the Father as Creator speaking things into existence,[1] the Spirit hovering over the waters,[2] and creation occurring through God’s spoken Word[3]—later revealed as Christ, the eternal Logos.[4] The plural language of “Let us make man in our image”[5] hints at the plurality within the Godhead that becomes fully manifest at Jesus’ baptism.
After His temptation in the wilderness—proving His divine nature as God Himself—we find Jesus walking casually along the shores of Galilee, beginning His earthly ministry.
As my Vietnamese students and I parsed through verses 16-18 repeatedly, beautiful details emerged that I had glossed over before.
First, Jesus engages Simon and Andrew exactly where they are—as fishermen. He doesn’t ask them to abandon their identity; He transforms it. “Come, follow me,” Jesus says, “and I will send you out to fish for people.” He speaks their language, using terminology that would resonate deeply with men who understood nets, boats, and the patient art of drawing in a catch.
This struck me powerfully as I sat teaching across cultures and continents via Zoom. Here I was, meeting Vietnamese students where they were—using their desire to learn English as a bridge to encounter Scripture. Jesus modeled this perfectly: He didn’t demand that fishermen become theologians first; He invited them to be fishers of men.
But the second insight hit even harder. At Jesus’ first call, Simon and Andrew “at once left their nets and followed him.”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in “The Cost of Discipleship,” writes powerfully about this immediacy. The call of Jesus demands immediate response—not because God is impatient, but because the call itself is so clear, so compelling, so full of divine authority that delay becomes impossible for those who truly hear it. It is Jesus who calls, and it is up to us to choose to respond, with immediacy.
This detail cannot be understated. They didn’t just drop their nets for a moment—they abandoned them entirely. Those nets represented everything: their livelihood, their security, their family trade, their future provision. In an agrarian economy with no social safety net, leaving your nets meant leaving your only means of survival.
Yet they did it immediately. At once. Without negotiation or hesitation.
This capacity to choose—even when faced with such a radical call—traces back to the very beginning. In Genesis 3, we see that God’s steadfast love allows us to choose.[6] Even after humanity’s rebellion, God’s response reveals both judgment and mercy.[7] In Genesis 3, God loved us so much that He gave us the choice to follow Him, and how even though mankind chose to rebel and break the communion God wanted with us, He gave us the promise of the One to come to restore that relationship.[6]
God could have created automatons who followed Him without choice. Instead, He created beings with the capacity to choose—to love, to rebel, to respond to His call. This divine gift of choice makes our response to Jesus’ call not coerced obedience, but willing surrender.
Teaching this passage to students in Vietnam while serving alongside ministry partners in both northern and southern Kenya has given me a unique perspective on what it means to meet people where they are. Whether it’s using English lessons as a bridge to Scripture in Southeast Asia, or learning to speak the cultural language of Maasai, Samburu, and El Molo peoples in East Africa, Jesus’ methodology remains consistent: start where people are, speak in terms they understand, then invite them into something transformational.
But the call remains equally radical across all cultures. I’ve witnessed it on the shores of Lake Turkana, in the villages of northern Kenya, and now in the faces of Vietnamese students who encounter these ancient words through their computer screens. When people truly encounter Jesus, the response is the same: they drop their nets.
Perhaps the most surprising lesson came from the teaching method itself. Reading the same passage multiple times, explaining each phrase, examining every word choice—this repetition didn’t create boredom; it created revelation. Each time through the text, new layers emerged.
How often do we rush past the profound in our hurry to consume more content? How many insights do we miss because we’re not willing to sit with a passage long enough to let it teach us?
My Vietnamese students, focused on understanding English vocabulary and grammar, were unknowingly modeling what deep Scripture study should look like: careful attention to every word, patient examination of each phrase, willingness to go over the same ground until understanding dawns.
As I closed my laptop after class, I found myself asking: what nets am I still holding onto? What securities am I unwilling to abandon to follow Jesus more fully?
From the very beginning—when God spoke creation into existence through His Word,[4] when the Spirit hovered over the waters,[8] when humanity was given the gift of choice in Eden—God has been calling people to Himself. The same Triune God who created us is the same Jesus who walked the shores of Galilee, calling fishermen to follow Him.
The call hasn’t changed since that morning by the Sea of Galilee. Jesus still meets us where we are, speaks our language, and invites us to drop everything for the adventure of following Him. Whether it’s teaching English via Zoom to students in Vietnam or sharing the Gospel with unreached peoples in northern Kenya, the ministry opportunities God provides all require the same fundamental response Simon and Andrew gave that day: at once leaving our nets to follow.
The nets may look different—comfort, control, predictability, financial security, cultural familiarity. But the call remains the same. And the promise remains the same: leave your small nets, and I’ll teach you to fish for people.
From one man He made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and He marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from any one of us. Acts 17:26-27