Dead Fish Can’t Swim Upstream
It was late summer and I was in my usual Dad mode; trying to help in an activity that I never did myself growing up. In this case it was fishing. I sat back and watched my son Sam cast his line over and over into the lake, trying to snag whatever poor fish decided to chomp on one of his many special lures or worms.
I’m technically not allowed to help since he’s 10 but it really wouldn’t matter much. I provide the moral support and encouragement that one of the casts will net him the big one. He does all the work himself and I sit in amazement at how a 10 year old has the patience to do this; because that definitely was not my experience when I was younger!
One evening Sam put his rod down in frustration and walked over to the side of the pier. A few laughs of amazement made me look just as he pulled a large mouth bass out of the water with his BARE HANDS. No bait, no rod, no hook. It was incredible…until we both realized this monster fish was already dead. We don’t know the story but while other fish were avoiding being snared and caught this poor old guy gave up the ghost and died right there under the pier. It was easy fishing for Sam. We snapped a few pics and tossed him back in. We didn’t think a “pre-dead” fish was the best thing to take home for dinner.
The dead fish reminded me of my swimming. I think others compared my triathlon swimming to that of a dead fish. A dead fish can’t swim…and neither can Josh Beck or so the joke goes. I admit I don’t like to swim but I do like the other 2/3’s of a triathlon. For a few years I thought I could find a work around with triathlons and find races that featured a downstream river swim. If I can’t swim fast than maybe I can swim easier. Luckily for me I entered three different races that featured downstream swimming.
The first one was local and had a short swim. The issue here was that the river was extremely low. So low that my belly would scrape the bottom. So rather than gliding along with the current I bounced over boulders, scraping and scratching my chest and stubbing my toes. I had a lot of scars for a seemingly easy swim.
The next one was in Louisville, Kentucky. This swim was 2.4 miles and I stuck my head in the mighty Ohio river. The Ohio was pushing me downstream but I wouldn’t know…the water was so brown and cloudy I couldn’t see a thing. It was hot from the August heat and pretty yucky. I think I swam this race mainly on my back so I could see and not ingest some kind of funky bacteria. My swim time was just as slow as a lake swim would have been.
The third try at easy, downstream swimming was in Chattanooga. This race had a ripping current and while it sent me zooming down the river I nearly missed the exit because of the giant push. It was a struggle to leave the river and not get swept further downstream. This race took a turn for the worse because my “easy” swim resulted in me “overbiking” and really suffering on the run.
Sam’s fish was easy to catch because it was already dead. And my faulty logic of only swimming downstream always took a crazy turn because it was natural. Fish survive by being able to swim upstream. My triathlons always did better with a little bit of adversity, especially in the beginning.
I can’t see myself doing too many more triathlons but Sam and I still go fishing. One of our favorite spots is at a local lake. Just off to the side of the lake is a spillway where the lake feeds into a small stream. And if you look closely there is a vibrant, beautiful fish that hangs out where the water rushes. It’s out of the calm lake waters but not quite in the free flowing, shallow, creek waters. It lives where water roars and churns over concrete and boulders. It’s not really where I would want to be as a beautiful fish because the poor guy doesn’t really seem to move beyond that spot. Every time we go he’s there.
The calm waters aren’t a sure thing for the life of this fish. Our dead fish friend that Sam plucked out the lake proves this. When the water is stagnant there’s no need to swim.
A gentle current isn’t the good life either. Always going with the flow can take a fish, or a flailing triathlete, to places they don’t want to go. Anyone can go downstream but does that take us where we need to be?
This golden Palomino trout (as Sam tells me) has the right idea. He’s living a life pointed upstream. He’s ok with what looks like adversity and calamity all around and yet he’s alive and kicking (or swimming)! He even looks like he’s comfortable and used to the scene. I’m sure if he were to get into the calm waters he’d be on the end of a fishing line. If he were to point downstream and go with the flow he’d end up on the end of a line or in the mouth of Heron.
The sweet spot, the safety zone, and place of the living is upstream. It’s counter-intuitive but it’s the place where we grow. It’s the place we see that it’s not by our own strength but the provision, guidance, and protection of our Creator. We aren’t supposed to live absent of sticky situations, tough times, or pressure. We can live on and be conquerors despite calamity and a steady upstream current!
If you are feeling like life is heavy, like nothing is going your way, like you’re always going upstream, I’d like to tell you that you are right where you need to be. You’re equipped to navigate the current and swim in the land of the living! Consider the alternatives. You could go belly up in stagnant waters. Or the downstream could take you places you don’t want to go. Be strong, depend on the One that made you to give you the strength to swim with your face pointed upstream. You are more extravagant and beautiful than a Palomino Trout but this finned friend of ours shows us that it is possible to live life pointed upstream. It’s possible he is only alive because he is positioned in rushing waters.
My swimming may be compared to a dead fish but I don’t want to live where fish go to die. Go upstream; it might be the best place to survive and eventually thrive!
