In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will drop from the overhead panel. Pull the mask toward you to start the flow of oxygen. Place the mask over your nose and mouth, secure it with the elastic band, and breathe normally. If you are traveling with children or others who may need assistance, secure your own mask first before helping them.” The airline safety announcement is familiar, but its logic feels foreign to a parent’s heart. Everything in us wants to save our children first.
On an airplane, and in ministry, love is guided by wisdom. You put on your own mask first. Why? Because a suffocating parent, and a gasping pastor, are powerless to save others.
A starving shepherd cannot feed the flock
“So when they had eaten breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon, son of Jonah, do you love Me more than these?’ ‘Yes Lord, You know that I love You.’ He said to him, ‘Feed my Lambs’ ” (John 21:15, NKJV). On this occasion, Jesus accomplished two things, He fed the disciples and then He commissioned them through Peter to feed the flock.
Only after the disciples had received from Him were they entrusted with the responsibility to give to others—the command was not merely given after the breakfast but when they had eaten. The feeding of the shepherds preceded the feeding of the flock. This order of activities was not merely a quantitative reference to sequential clock time. It spoke to something qualitative. The Greek language distinguishes between two kinds of time: Chronos (χρόνος), which answers the question “when?”, and Kairos (καιρός), which answers “why now?” Everything in this brief narrative moved toward this moment—the Kairos. Why now? They had been fed, their masks were secured. This was the pregnant time, not the passing of time—the time that truly matters, not the time that is measured. They were ready to feed the flock.
Jesus was the fish they needed
When Simon Peter said, “I am going fishing,” the others answered, “We are going with you.” They went out and climbed into the boat, yet the night yielded no catch (John 21:3 NKJV). This was a mirror of a night three years earlier, recorded in Luke 5:1–11, when weary from labor, Peter had confessed to Jesus, “Master, we have worked all night and caught nothing” (v. 5). Then, as now, Jesus beckoned them into the deep, and the impossible became abundant. Fish filled their nets, but more than that, a calling filled their hearts: “Do not be afraid. From now on you will catch men” (v. 10).
Yet this latest fishing expedition was more than a revival of an old fishing skill—it was a subtle sign of apostasy.
After three years with Christ, the disciples felt abandoned. The death and resurrection of Jesus had shaken them; His two previous appearances were sporadic, leaving doubt and uncertainty in their hearts. On the surface, they were fishing for fish, but deep down in their hearts they were longing for the calm assurance of His presence. When Peter saw Jesus standing on the shore, he plunged into the water to meet Him (John 21:7). In truth, Jesus was the reason for the previous night’s labor—they were seeking Him all along.
At His command, their nets overflowed with fish, and they brought the catch to Jesus. John records, “As soon as they came to land, they saw a fire of coals there with fish laid on it, and bread” (v. 9). Yet this moment was more than a physical breakfast—it was a confirmation of who Christ was. He was the breakfast they needed in order to feed the sheep.
Christ first, then others
In Matthew 11:28, Jesus invites us to come to Him so we can find rest. Effective service does not flow from striving, but from resting. Only when Christ has stilled our hearts can we become instruments of peace to others. In ministry, love is guided by wisdom. We are invited to feed the sheep, nourished first by Him who is our Bread, Guide, and Shepherd. Secure your own mask first before helping others. 
