Ep. Mark 1:16–20 Jesus Didn’t Start With a Stage!

Fishermen brothers preparing their nets by the sea, capturing a moment of divine calling.

Mark 1:16–20

As He walked by the Sea of Galilee, He saw Simon and Andrew his brother casting a net into the sea, for they were fishermen. Then Jesus said to them, “Follow Me, and I will make you become fishers of men.” They immediately left their nets and followed Him. When He had gone a little farther from there, He saw James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, who also were in the boat mending their nets. And immediately He called them, and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired servants, and went after Him.

If you grew up in church, you probably met the flannelgraph version of Jesus first. Clean robe. Soft eyes. Always holding a lamb or smiling at children. He walked gently, spoke kindly, and mostly stayed within the lines.

But then you open the Gospels for yourself.

Suddenly He’s getting baptized in front of a crowd, disappearing into the wilderness for forty days, calling out religious leaders, confronting demons, and saying things like, “Follow Me”—with no explanation, no small talk, and no apparent concern for how disruptive that might be.

That’s not Sunday School Jesus. That’s the real one.

And what’s even more surprising is how His public ministry actually begins.

He doesn’t start in the temple. He doesn’t quote Isaiah from a scroll or deliver a groundbreaking sermon. He doesn’t even perform a miracle.

He walks by a lake. He sees some fishermen. And He calls them.

Not scholars. Not influencers. Just two sets of brothers with calloused hands and the smell of fish in their clothes.

This is how the kingdom of God begins—on the shore, in the ordinary, with people no one would have chosen.

So why does He do it this way? And what does it say about how we do ministry today?

Let’s take a closer look at what’s actually happening here.

Was This the First Time They Met?

At first glance, it looks like Jesus walks up to total strangers, tells them to follow Him, and they do—instantly. No hesitation. No questions. Just dropped nets and raw obedience. It almost feels mystical.

But if you know the Gospel of John, there’s more to the story.

John tells us that Andrew, one of John the Baptist’s disciples, had already met Jesus by the Jordan River. After hearing John say, “Behold, the Lamb of God,” Andrew began following Jesus. And then he brought his brother, Simon (later called Peter), to meet Him too.

That means this scene in Mark 1 isn’t a random introduction. It’s a decisive moment.

It’s the point where interest becomes commitment.

And the timing matters.

Mark 1:14 says this all happens after John the Baptist is arrested. Jesus doesn’t begin calling His disciples until John is out of the way. This isn’t just about logistics. It’s symbolic. The voice in the wilderness has fallen silent. Now the Word is walking among them.

Jesus sees Simon and Andrew casting nets into the Sea of Galilee. He calls them with a line they’d understand: “Follow Me, and I will make you become fishers of men.”

He wasn’t being poetic. He was being personal.

Fishing wasn’t a weekend hobby in Galilee. It was survival. These nets were their inheritance. Their boats were their retirement plan. Leaving them wasn’t symbolic. It was sacrificial.

But that’s what they do.

No bargaining. No “Let me think about it.” They drop everything. A few steps later, Jesus calls James and John. They leave their father in the boat, walk away from the family business, and go.

This is how Jesus starts His movement.

And He does it without a microphone, a building, or a miracle.

He starts with a call.

He starts with obedience.

And if Jesus didn’t need a platform or a performance to begin building the kingdom—maybe we need to rethink how we define ministry today.

Brothers, Boats, and a Kingdom Call

It’s easy to miss, but Mark quietly includes a detail that should make us pause.

Jesus doesn’t just call four individuals. He calls two sets of brothers.

Simon and Andrew, James and John.

That’s not a coincidence.

In first-century Jewish culture, brothers often worked together in family trades. Fishing was typically passed down from father to sons. Boats stayed in the family. Nets were mended by hand, taught through muscle memory. What we’re seeing here is a moment of family disruption. Jesus isn’t just calling individuals out of their careers—He’s reshaping their loyalties.

James and John, for example, leave their father Zebedee in the boat. That line reads fast, but it hits hard. In a traditional Jewish family, walking away from your father—especially in public—was no small act. It signaled something radical had happened. Something more important than duty, tradition, or inheritance had taken hold of them.

This isn’t just a personal decision. It’s a redefinition of identity. Jesus isn’t just building a team. He’s forming a new kind of family—one bound not by bloodlines or birthrights, but by obedience to the King.

To modern ears, it might sound heartwarming: “Aww, brothers doing ministry together.” But to first-century listeners, this was disruptive. It challenged the old structures. It threatened the rhythms of everyday life. It meant that Jesus was calling people not only out of their boats, but out of their expected roles.

And it’s worth asking: Why start there?

Why not recruit a few scribes or a synagogue leader or someone with a reputation?

Because Jesus didn’t need credentials. He needed commitment.

These men weren’t impressive on paper. But they knew how to work hard. They knew the tides. They knew failure. They understood patience. They had rough hands and tired eyes. And when Jesus called, they dropped what was in their hands—and followed.

He chose brothers not because it was sentimental, but because He was launching a kingdom family.

One day, He’d say, “Who is My mother, or My brothers? … Whoever does the will of God is My brother and sister and mother.” That moment starts here, on the shoreline, when two pairs of siblings leave everything they knew behind.

This Is Not How We Do Ministry

Let’s be honest: if someone today launched a ministry the way Jesus did, we’d probably call it unwise.

No vision statement. No leadership team. No strategic partners. No social media presence. He didn’t even gather a crowd. He just walked along a shoreline and called four guys who reeked of fish.

This is not how we do ministry.

And I can say that because I’ve done ministry. I’ve been a pastor. I’ve gone through the system—Bible college, degree in hand, leadership seminars with experts telling us how to grow churches, develop teams, structure services, and maximize “impact.” I don’t say that to brag. I say it because I know the machinery. I’ve been part of it.

And yet the more I read about how Jesus actually launched the kingdom, the more I realize—He did almost none of that.

No building. No schedule. No budget. Just a walk, a call, and an invitation to leave everything behind.

He didn’t gather influencers or Torah scholars. He didn’t start a prayer movement. He didn’t platform anyone. He interrupted men at work and asked for their lives.

Today, ministry often begins with a platform. We brand it. Market it. Frame it in a five-part series. We push for engagement, likes, and a strong launch. Jesus starts with interruption and surrender.

He doesn’t say, “Here’s the vision.”He says, “Follow Me.”And somehow, that’s enough.

These men left their livelihood, their identity, their family name. James and John walked away from the family business. Peter and Andrew dropped the only skill they’d spent their lives perfecting. Why? Because when Jesus speaks, you either follow or you don’t. There is no soft launch. There’s only surrender.

Jesus doesn’t promise comfort. He promises transformation: “I will make you become fishers of men.” That’s a process. It’s not instant. But it starts with one thing—obedience.

And here’s the part I’ve had to wrestle with, both as a former pastor and as a man who still loves the church: if this is how Jesus launched His mission, what does it say about how we’ve dressed it up?

Maybe we’ve made ministry more complex than it needs to be.Maybe we’ve confused visibility with faithfulness.Maybe we’ve forgotten that the kingdom doesn’t begin with power—it begins with people who say yes.

Jesus didn’t need a platform. He was the platform.He didn’t need a brand. He was the message.He didn’t need momentum. He had authority.

This wasn’t a show. It was a kingdom invasion—quiet, slow, and deliberate.And it began with a walk, a call, and four men who obeyed.

When Jesus Calls

It’s easy to romanticize the disciples’ obedience. We read it fast, almost like a highlight reel—Jesus calls, they follow, and off they go to change the world.

But let’s not forget: these were real men, with real lives, families, businesses, and futures they likely thought they understood. And in one moment, a voice cuts through everything.

Follow Me.

There was no contract. No guarantees. No “here’s what your life will look like five years from now.” There was only trust. Only obedience. Only Jesus.

And the truth is—He still calls like that.

He still walks into ordinary places.He still disrupts comfortable routines.He still speaks in the middle of work, bills, family obligations, and plans we’ve made for ourselves.

I used to think ministry was about systems and structure—figuring out how to get the message out to as many people as possible. And to be fair, there’s nothing wrong with order or excellence. But what I’ve come to realize is that Jesus never needed any of that to start changing the world.

He started with a few people.He gave them Himself.And He asked for everything.

That’s still how the kingdom works.

And maybe that’s why so many of us feel disillusioned with “church” today—not because Jesus changed, but because we’ve substituted activity for obedience, and noise for calling.

But He hasn’t changed. And His call is still the same.

Follow Me.

That’s where it starts. That’s where it always starts.

Not with plans. Not with platforms. Just with a shoreline, a Savior, and a choice.