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Have you ever heard someone introduced as "John, the husband of the famous Rachel So-and-So?" That can be a hard thing to live with. I know, because much of my life has been spent that way. My name is Andrew, but to most people that doesn't mean anything until I say Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter. As I said, that can be a hard thing to live with, but in my case I was given the grace to be able to accept it because of my relationship with Jesus Christ. But that gets a little ahead of my story.

My brother, Simon, and I were commercial fisherman, operating out of the village of Capernaum on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. We were in partnership with two other men, James and John, the sons of Zebedee. From time to time things were slow in our business, so when John the Baptizer came through our area I went out to listen to what he had to say. I guess you could say that I got converted by him; at least, I took my religion a lot more seriously after listening to him. I went out to be with John the Baptizer every spare moment I got. So did my fishing partner, John.

The Baptizer spoke quite a bit about someone who was to come after him, who was greater than he was. We assumed that he meant the Messiah.

One day, while we were with the Baptizer, Jesus of Nazareth, whom we knew as another itinerant preacher, passed by. When the Baptizer saw him, he said to us, "Behold the Lamb of God!" Well, that was enough to interest John and me, so we decided to follow Jesus in an effort to get better acquainted with him. I have to say right here that the Baptizer's attitude toward Jesus made quite an impression on me. He was willing to point out Jesus for us even though he could see that we might become followers of Jesus, and leave off following him. He said, "Jesus must increase, but I must decrease." You might say that the Baptizer was an example to me of a way I was later to follow.

Anyway, the first thing I want to tell you about is my relationship with Jesus. As I said, John and I went down the road following Jesus. We stayed a little behind him, because frankly, we didn't know what we should say if we caught up to him. Jesus must have sensed our shyness, because he stopped and asked us quite plainly, "What are you looking for?"

Now, there is a question for you; you can't get much more fundamental than that. A person can go along day by day, from one meal to the next without really asking himself, "What do I want out of life? What is my aim or my goal?" That was kind of the way I had been living life, just putting one foot in front of the other without bothering to ask whether the road I was on went where I wanted to go.

In fact, it might be a good idea for you who are listening to me to ask yourselves, "What am I looking for?" Job security perhaps? Is that possible in this changing world? Material well-being? If so, how will you know when you are well off? The opportunity to do what you are capable of doing? That's a good aim, for we all have some gift to share. How about the answer, "I am trying to learn to live as a child of God"? I like that answer. If that is your answer, what are you doing to discover how a child of God is supposed to live?

When John and I were presented with the question, we couldn't think of anything very important to answer, so we asked simply, "Where are you staying?" In a way it was a stall for time, for we had expected answers from this new-found teacher, and he had given us a question instead. Perhaps that, too, is important in religion: we have to have the question before we can know whether we have found the answer. Religious leaders often give answers, but they may not be answers to questions anyone is dealing with.

In addition to stalling for time, however, we really did want to know where Jesus was staying so that we could be in contact with him. If he did have answers, this fleeting conversation in the middle of a Galilean road was not going to be sufficient opportunity for us to learn from him.

Jesus' response to us was, "Come and see." At that moment we thought of it simply as an invitation to see his place of residence, but we subsequently discovered that it was an invitation to insight. Insight into what we were, what we could be, and what life could be when committed to God. These things Jesus opened up to me and I subsequently knew that I had something to share.

Therefore, the second thing I want to tell you is how following Jesus affected my relationship with my brother. Simon and I not only worked together, we were quite close to each other emotionally. Therefore, when I found something that was important to me, it was only natural that I should share it with Simon. As far as I was concerned, missionary work should begin at home. An Old Testament proverb says, "The eyes of a fool are on the ends of the earth." That means start where you are. I have since discovered that many people who are looking for something to do for Jesus will find it right in their own homes. You can't go very far toward convincing others about your faith if your life can't bear close scrutiny at home. So I told Simon, "We have found the Messiah," and I brought Simon to Jesus. You might say I was the first home missionary. I was learning to share my faith. That is something every follower of Jesus can do.

But the next lesson I had to learn was more difficult. When I introduced Jesus to Simon, Jesus said to him, "So you are Simon, the son of John? I am going to call you Peter," which means rock. Here they had just met, and it was as though Jesus knew all about Simon. He even gave Simon a nickname which suggested strength and dependability.

Thereafter, we spent a lot of time with Jesus, as much as our fishing business would allow. Eventually, Jesus asked us to give up our fishing business and to travel full time with him. It was a difficult decision, but we decided to do as Jesus asked. John and his brother, James, and others, also responded to the call.

Almost at once, Peter came to the forefront. He was often putting his foot in his mouth, but nevertheless, he was a natural leader. I guess that much of the time I was living in his shadow. Even within our small group of twelve followers there was an inner group of disciples: Peter, James, and John, who were closer to Jesus than the rest of us. They were called in when Jesus healed the daughter of a prominent man; they were present to behold the transfiguration of Jesus; they were nearer Jesus in the agony he went through in Gethsemane. Always Peter, James, and John; seldom ever Andrew.

I suppose that sometimes I resented it. After all, I had found Jesus first. In fact, if it weren't for me, Peter wouldn't have met Jesus at all. It is not easy when the only light that falls on you is the reflected light of a brother. But then it occurred to me that we can't all be the leader. The Baptizer's great humility in acknowledging the superior position of his cousin, Jesus, was a great lesson to me. And Jesus' suggestion that each of us was a branch of the main vine helped me to see that each of us has our own function to perform. It was not easy to be second or third or fourth, but Jesus' repeated lesson that we find greatness in service and not in position made it possible for me to avoid bitterness and to make my own unique contribution. My advice to you is that if you don't get the position you think you deserve in life, don't waste your life lamenting what you didn't get. Instead, invest your life in the opportunity you do have and God will bless your efforts.

The third thing I want to tell you about is how Jesus affected my relationship with others. First, there were the outsiders. You see, we Jews were brought up to be rather exclusive. We had so little of this world's goods that we took great pride in the distinction of being God's chosen people. We felt that God may have created the other peoples of the earth, but it was the Jews he loved. Therefore, we were exceedingly hesitant to have much to do with those who were not Jewish. We didn't eat with them, we didn't work with them, we didn't have them into our homes, and we didn't worship with them. I have known some Christians who are just about as exclusive; they won't have anything to do with people who aren't just like them. For our part, we disciples had no reason to consider non-Jews, because Jesus' ministry in Israel brought us almost exclusively into contact with Jews.

Then one day, while we were in Jerusalem, some Greeks came up to Philip and asked to see Jesus, and he in turn came to me. Here again is evidence that each of us has a unique position to play on the team. Philip and I were both from Bethsaida, a village heavily populated with Gentiles, so we had had much contact with Gentiles and were perhaps more open to them than the rest of the disciples would be. Moreover, Philip and I were the only disciples with Greek names, which may have been the reason these Greeks came to us.

I had to decide whether Jesus would be interested in speaking with Gentiles. I recalled how he frequently had good relations with the Samaritans, who at best were a mixed breed, and that one of his stories had been about a good Samaritan, so I concluded that what Jesus had to say was meant for Gentiles too. So, I brought the Gentiles to Jesus, assuming that his message was for all people. Jesus received them and indicated that all people who sought and served God would be honored by God. I learned from Jesus that there are no outsiders as far as God is concerned.

Not only did Jesus help me to become more accepting of others, he made me see that everybody has something of value to contribute. This was brought home to me that time when Jesus fed so many people. About 5,000 people had followed us to the eastern side of the Sea of Galilee to listen to Jesus. Most of them were eight to ten miles from their homes. It was late afternoon when they should have started back, but most of them had had nothing to eat during the day, and ten miles is a long walk on an empty stomach. Jesus said to Philip, "How are we going to buy bread so that these people may eat?" Philip said that we couldn't possibly afford to buy enough bread for each person to have even a taste, much less a meal. I had discovered a small boy in the crowd who still had his lunch of five small barley loaves and two fishes, which he said he was willing to share. I mentioned this to Jesus, acknowledging that it wasn't much among so many, but at least it was a beginning. Jesus agreed, gratefully accepted the boy's offer, asked God's blessing over the small portion, and we began distributing what we had to those who were there. I don't know all that happened next; maybe each person got the point and shared whatever he had been keeping for himself up to that point; maybe God just plain enlarged the elements; but everybody had enough to eat, and there was some left over. It was a profoundly moving experience. We saw one another as family.

Another point I got is that the smallest contribution is useful when turned over to God. The boy's generosity liberated the potential that was available in the crowd. And I had some part in it: I had brought the small boy to Jesus. Let no one ever despise the contribution of another as being too little; little is much when it is turned over to God.

Are you troubled by any of the things that troubled me? By slow advancement? By who gets the credit? Are you distressed because of having to remain in the background? Just look around you. There is so much to do in God's Kingdom. There are so many people who need to be brought to Jesus. Those in leadership positions can't do it all. Those in the forefront of public opinion have limited contacts. People are won to discipleship to Jesus Christ far more frequently by quiet, obscure Christians than by persons of renown. We may not be in the forefront like Peter, but each of us has something to contribute. Christ can take our little and turn it into something big. Look at what he did with five loaves and two fishes. Look at what he did with me.