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I want to tell you about a morning that might surprise you. After the most important event in human history — my resurrection from the dead — you might expect me to do something dramatic. Summon the nations. Appear in the temple. Announce myself to kings. But instead? I made breakfast.
Here is what happened. Some of my disciples — Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, James, John, and two others — had gone back to the Sea of Galilee. Peter said, "I am going out to fish." The others said, "We will go with you." So they got in a boat, pushed out onto the dark water, and fished all night long.
They caught absolutely nothing. Not a single fish. All night. Every cast, empty. Every net, empty. Hours and hours of work with nothing to show for it.
As the sun started to come up, they could see someone standing on the shore. It was me — but they did not know that yet. I called out to them across the water: "Friends, have you caught any fish?"
"No," they answered. You can almost hear the exhaustion and frustration in that one word.
Then I said, "Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some."
Now, they had been professional fishermen. They had fished all night. But something about that voice made them do it anyway. They threw the net on the right side.
And the net EXPLODED with fish. So many fish they could not haul the net in. A hundred and fifty-three large fish — and the net did not even break!
John leaned over to Peter and whispered, "It is the Lord."
That was all Peter needed to hear. He did not wait for the boat to reach shore. He threw on his outer garment and JUMPED into the water and swam for it. The other disciples followed in the boat, dragging that ridiculous net full of fish.
And when they got to shore, do you know what they found? I already had a charcoal fire going. Bread was warming. Fish was cooking. Everything was ready. I looked at them and said the most beautiful, ordinary words: "Come and have breakfast."
The risen King of the universe. The One who had just conquered death itself. And there I was, on a beach at sunrise, cooking breakfast for my tired, hungry friends.
None of them dared ask me "Who are you?" They knew. They all knew.
I want you to understand why I am telling you this. I care about the big moments of your life — yes. The huge prayers, the major decisions, the life-changing events. But I also care about Tuesday morning. I care about your breakfast. Your homework. Your walk to school. The ordinary, everyday, nothing-special moments.
After the most extraordinary event in history, I made breakfast. Because I care about the ordinary moments of your life just as much as the extraordinary ones.
LESSON: Jesus meets you in the everyday. He is not just the God of big miracles — He is the God of Tuesday mornings, shared meals, and quiet moments. He cares about all of it.
