21 Jan 2026, Texts: Isaiah 9:1-4 & Matthew 4:12-23

I’m finally back! Thanks to your prayers, I survived a massive 4,000-kilometre road trip. From Adelaide to Geelong, up to Sydney, and back through Bendigo—it was quite the journey. Driving those long distances gave me a lot of time to think. And I sang—a lot! Most of the time, I was humming along to the "glory days" hits of my teens and 20s. But there were moments, looking out at the vast Australian landscapes, the farms, and the small towns, where I couldn't help but sing praises at the top of my lungs. We see these landscapes often and sometimes forget how amazing God’s handiwork is until we’re right in the middle of it.

Now, Sydney... Sydney is a whole different world. I had this perfect plan: "We’ll see the Opera House, hit the Blue Mountains, and take the kids to Wollongong for some relaxing family time." Well, that didn’t happen! I spent all ten days just meeting people. I told my friends not to post anything on Facebook or Instagram, but of course… the secret didn’t stay a secret for long. We had so many stories to catch up on; I met some friends two or three times! Do you know the result of choosing people over landmarks? Don’t I look like I’ve put on a bit of weight? It was a trip truly overflowing with love and, of course, way too much food.

Our ten days in Sydney weren’t exactly peaceful. There were challenges, especially on the road. As soon as I started driving, the "romance" of the trip disappeared. Everyone seemed to drive like they were in a Formula One race. Whenever I turned on my indicator to change lanes, it felt like other drivers would speed up; they wouldn’t give me an inch! I had to stay on edge. Dana and I kept saying to each other, “You drive!” But you know what? After a few days, I noticed something had changed in me. My “combat driving mode” had awakened. I remembered—I used to live in a city of ten million people, after all. I surprised myself with how quickly that instinct came back.

In the nice restaurants, we heard, “Excuse me, you have 10 minutes left for your table.” At other places, they wouldn’t even take bookings or do takeaways—we had to wait more than 30 minutes on the street. In the middle of all that chaos, we missed our Adelaide so much. I can truly say: Friends, your minister has survived the war zone and returned!

But the biggest challenge? It was completely unexpected. We stayed in an Airbnb in Melrose Park. It was a brand-new apartment—modern and very secure. The location was spot on, too. But... it turned out to be the worst choice I could’ve made. Why? Because just a few hundred metres away—literally within walking distance—there was a beautiful golf course. Can you imagine the torture? Every time I drove past those beautiful greens, I was dying inside! You can only imagine the struggle I went through!

Someone once said, "We travel in order to return." I agree with that. When I finally arrived back at my "sweet home," I realized I still had a few days of holiday left. Sitting on the couch with no "To-Do list," just watching TV... that felt like my real holiday.

During that time, I started watching a show on Netflix everyone’s talking about: Culinary Class Wars. It’s a massive cooking competition where 50 world-class master chefs (the “white spoons”) and 50 hidden amateur cooks (the "black spoons") battle it out. The talent was incredible.

In the finale, the two best chefs were given a mission that was totally unexpected. The judges said: “Cook a dish for yourself.”

The chefs were stunned. One of them actually started to cry. Why? Because in his whole career, he had never once cooked for himself. He had spent decades in high-pressure kitchens, worrying about what other people liked, trying to impress judges, and trying to satisfy customers. He realized he didn't even know what he liked anymore.

Hearing that left a deep impression on me. From washing dishes to mastering the knife, their entire lives were focused on the person eating the food. Watching them finally cook from their own memories and stories—not for a trophy, but for their own comfort—was incredibly moving.

That really hit me. I sat there thinking: “If God asked me to preach a sermon... not for the congregation, but just for me... what would I say? What do I need to hear?”

And this isn't just a question for me. I want to ask you today: If God called your name and asked for a worship service, a prayer, or a blessing meant only for you... what are you truly longing for? What is the "menu" of your faith? What is the "one word of blessing" you want to serve to your own heart today?

Thinking about this helped me see today's scripture in a whole new light. And I saw Jesus in a new way. Jesus left his comfortable home in Nazareth and went to the rough part of town—places like Capernaum and finally to the Sea of Galilee.

The Bible calls these places "darkness" and "the shadow of death." These were spots where people were struggling, where life was hard and heavy. Jesus didn't stay where it was bright. He walked directly into the places where people were stuck in the dark. Verse 18 says He was "walking by the Sea of Galilee." He wasn't just passing through; He was searching. Finally, He saw Peter and Andrew, and He gave them that famous line: “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.”

We usually hear that as a "job offer." In fact, when we read this passage, we often think immediately of evangelism and mission. We hear it as a serious command: “Stop catching fish. Go out and catch people. Become my disciples.” It often awakens in us a strong sense of responsibility. At times, it even becomes a burden of guilt: “I’m not ready to catch anyone yet…”

But what if that wasn't a command? What if it was a gift?

I believe that Jesus was saying, “Become a fisherman for yourself.” Jesus was saying, "Look, you’ve spent your whole life exhausting yourself just to feed others. Come with me, and I’ll show you how to fish for your own soul for a change."

For Peter and Andrew, Galilee was a battlefield for survival—an invisible prison they could never leave. As fishermen, they had responsibilities, family duties, and a constant cycle of life. On good days, they were happy; on bad days, they were filled with anxiety. Their nets were full of fish, but they were missing from the net. Jesus was asking, "How long will you be bound by fish? Leave the nets and come to the life where you find yourself!"

They did it. They left their nets behind. They said "goodbye" to the daily grind and the routines they’d known forever, and they welcomed a brand-new journey—a journey for themselves. When they stepped off that boat, they weren't looking for fish anymore. They were looking for the "real self" reflected in the light of Jesus. They started a journey to find the purpose and direction that God had placed in their lives from the very beginning.

Now, we all know the ending. They became legends and changed the world. But honestly? Their success isn’t the point today. The real heart of this story is much more personal—it’s the journey of people finally discovering who they truly were in the presence of Jesus.

The highlight of this passage is the exact moment the light hit them. It’s the moment they stopped being fishermen to their nets and became 'fishers for their own souls.' This story is about that transformation—from the inside out.

My brothers and sisters, I believe Jesus is looking at each of us today and saying: "I want you to become a 'fisherman for yourself.' Just let Me lead you into the Light."

When He walked that dark shore and cried out, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near!" He wasn't scolding us. He was saying: "Hey, stop looking at the darkness. Turn around. Look at Me… the Light." This is an invitation to what I call the "Ministry of Light." It’s the hard work of rescuing our own spirit—the part of us we’ve left abandoned in the shadows while we were busy taking care of everyone else.

When that "Great Light" hit Peter, Andrew, and their brothers, they finally saw the truth. They realized: "I’ve spent my whole life fishing for success... but my own soul has been drowning at the bottom of this sea." That’s exactly why Jesus said, "I will make you fishers of men." It was a promise—a declaration that the Lord would rescue the "me" that even I had given up on.

We usually think being a disciple is only about sacrifice. We think it's about "dying to ourselves." And yes, that’s a noble mission. But before Jesus gives us that mission, He asks us to do something else first: "My child, rescue yourself first. Come alive first. And in My light... let yourself be loved first."

Think back to that chef from the finale. When he had to "cook for himself," he said: "In that moment, I wasn't just a machine making food; it made me think about who I really am." That was his turning point, his healing moment. He finally remembered what his life was all about. He felt this brilliant light shining right on him. I don’t know his faith, but I’m certain that what he felt was restoration. It was the Good News.

I have to be honest with you. While I was preparing this message, I finally realized what it means to "preach for myself." For a long time, I’ve been so busy "cooking" as a preacher just to feed all of you. I was constantly worrying about how to serve the "best spiritual meal." I was reading these texts and writing these notes like a machine in a kitchen.

But today’s message stopped me. It spoke to me first. He said: "Doyoung, this sermon is for you. Before you try to catch anyone else, let Me rescue you in My net of love first."

That realization was a brilliant light for me. Once I started preaching to myself, the dry well inside me started to flow again. I realized that I have to be alive in His light to help you stay alive. I have to be happy in His light to share that happiness with all of you.

So, I want to ask you today: What is the "Grace Menu" that Jesus has prepared just for you? What does your soul crave most today? What is the one "word of blessing" you want to give to yourself right now?

The very second you find that answer, I promise you, the light of Jesus will start to shine on your "Galilee," too. Amen.