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Sermon:
One of my Churches is dedicated to St Andrew so rather than focusing on Advent I want to talk about St Andrew.
In today’s Gospel we hear the familiar call of the first disciples. Jesus walks by the Sea of Galilee and sees two brothers, Simon Peter and Andrew, casting their nets. “Follow me,” he says, “and I will make you fishers for people.” And Matthew tells us that “immediately” they leave their nets and follow him.
That word immediately gives us a glimpse of Andrew’s character. He responds to Jesus without delay, without excuses, without knowing exactly where this new path will lead. Andrew becomes one of the quiet but steady figures of the Gospel—bringing people to Jesus almost instinctively. He brings the boy with the loaves and fishes; he is the one who opens doors.
What does Andrew have to say to us today?
First, Andrew reminds us that mission begins with willingness, not expertise. He was a fisherman, an ordinary working man. Yet Jesus entrusted him with something extraordinary. In a world where we can feel unsure of our faith, anxious about saying the wrong thing, or convinced that someone would be better to speak or invite, Andrew stands as a gentle reminder: God works through ordinary people who simply say “yes.”
Second, Andrew teaches us that mission is relational. It’s not always big events, bold speeches, grand programmes or carefully crafted strategies. Often, mission is a conversation, an invitation, a moment of noticing someone who might otherwise be overlooked.
Let me tell you a story.
A woman—let’s call her Beryl—was a stalwart of her local church. We all have a Beryl, don’t we? Faithful, dependable, warm, and quietly attentive to those around her. One Sunday she noticed a young family nervously hovering at the back of church—new to the area, unsure how things worked, clearly a bit overwhelmed by the number of books and bits of paper and not really sure what the children’s corner was for.
During the first hymn, Beryl walked over, greeted them warmly,explained about the pieces of paper and said, “After the service we have coffee and tea in the hall—I hope you’ll join us. You’re very welcome.”
That simple act of kindness and hospitality made all the difference. The family stayed for coffee, then returned the next week, then found themselves involved with the toddler group. Over time their faith deepened, their children were baptised, and eventually the parents became active in the life of the church. Years later they said, “What brought us into the life of this church wasn’t a big mission initiative - just one person who noticed us and said, ‘Come and see.’”
That is the spirit of St Andrew.
Today, Jesus extends the same invitation to us: Follow me—and I will make you fish for people.
We cast our nets not with pressure or persuasion, but with presence and kindness - by living lives of authenticity, compassion, and quiet courage. We help build the kingdom not only through sermons and sacraments, but through cups of tea, conversations in the porch, invitations to Messy Church, quiet prayers with a neighbour, a pint in the pub or simple acts of welcome. We don’t need to be perfect; we simply need to be available - attentive to those God places before us, ready to say through our words or our actions, “Come and see.”
And perhaps this is Andrew’s most enduring lesson: that mission is not an occasional activity but a way of being. It is the daily readiness to notice, to invite, to encourage, to open a door—trusting that Christ will do the rest. Most of us will never preach to crowds or travel far afield, but every one of us can be an Andrew for someone.
Mission in Andrew’s style is gentle, ordinary, relational—and profoundly powerful.
May St Andrew inspire us to follow Christ with the same immediacy, and to share him with the same generous simplicity. And may our small invitations become, through God’s grace, the beginning of someone else’s journey of faith.
Amen.