In today’s Gospel, the disciples go back to fishing. That may seem like a small detail, but it says a great deal. After everything that has happened, after the cross, after the empty tomb, after the first appearances of the risen Jesus, they still do not fully know what to do next. So they return to something familiar.
That is very human.
When life feels uncertain, we often go back to routine. We do what we know. We keep busy. We return to old patterns, even after grace has already begun to work in us.
And yet, even there, Jesus comes.
The disciples fish all night and catch nothing. Then, at daybreak, Jesus stands on the shore, though they do not recognize Him at first. He tells them to cast the net again, and suddenly everything changes.
That is such a strong Easter image. Without Jesus, they work all night and come up empty. With Jesus, even the same net, the same boat, and the same sea become full of life.
How often that happens in our own lives. We work hard, we try our best, we fill our days, but without the Lord at the center something still feels empty. Then Christ enters quietly, sometimes in a simple word, a moment of prayer, a return to confession, a renewed trust, and what felt barren begins to change.
Then John says the beautiful words: “It is the Lord.”
That is really the heart of Easter faith, learning to recognize that the risen Jesus is present, often closer than we think, standing at the shoreline of our ordinary lives.
And what is Jesus doing when they come ashore? He has prepared breakfast for them.
That detail is deeply consoling. The risen Lord is not distant. He is not merely making a dramatic appearance. He cares for them. He feeds them. He welcomes them. Resurrection glory does not make Jesus less personal. It shows even more clearly His tenderness and care.
So perhaps the invitation today is simple: let the risen Jesus meet you in the ordinary. In the boat. In the work. In the fatigue. In the uncertainty. And ask for the grace to recognize Him and say with faith, “It is the Lord.”
Amen.