Hope on a Hook
Ah, fishing. A true test to someone’s patience. There’s the hopeful casting lobbed into the water where a fish will hopefully find its way onto a hook and give a tug. There’s the eager reeling in of a big fish, a big dinner, or a tall tale of length and weight. There’s also a lot of waiting. Daydreaming. Hoping. Each cast is a new session of the same. Hope lobbed into the water and waiting for an answer with a hooked fish!
My youngest son has taken to fishing and since I have had zero patience for the game of fishing my entire life we are learning together. Actually, I learn from him since he reads, watches, and studies all things fishing. I just provide the transportation to our local spots and the little general stores to buy nightcrawlers, worms, and other slimy critters that fish apparently like.
One week he tried his hand at surf fishing. I was happy to sit back and watch as wave after wave crashed into the shore and our “puddle kid” gradually got more soaked as he fished. The other thing that gradually grew more soaked was his determination. Nothing was biting but we could literally see a school of fish just beyond where he was casting. There was also a platoon of pelicans waiting to divebomb their dinner at just the right time. For a quiet evening there was a lot going on in the world by the sea.
As I watched Sam cast his line and reel in an empty hook I watched his feet. With every cast his feet sunk into the sand. Within a second or two after launching his line his feet were submersed in a few inches of sand, which was really helpful because the waves were a constant and steady push against him. The sand grounded him and kept him secure in an unstable situation.
Another observation was his casts. At first it was a flick of the wrist, feet in the sand, and wait. But he wouldn’t be my son if he didn’t turn it into some kind of competition and before long his casts looked like a swing from home run derby in baseball. He would take a few steps back and whip the rod with all of the force of a 10 year-old. He was surprisingly accurate and if a flick of the wrist was hopeful then his swings of surf-fishing were HOPEFUL.
And after those big swings his feet would still be covered and grounded while he waiting for an answer at the end of the line.
I don’t pretend to be a fisherman or even know if Sam was helping or hurting his fishing on the beach. But I do know there are a lot of fishing stories, tales, parables, and lessons out there. I think there’s room for one more. Watching those casts go out to sea; first with the feeble flicks and later with the full-body launches, made me think of offering our prayers to God. One isn’t better than another as they all go out. But as our comfort increases in His presence I think we may see that our casts are more frequent, more powerful, and more intense as we spend time with Him. To catch a fish surf-fishing you have to be in the water. To experience God you have to talk to Him!
And after those casts, after those prayers, we wait. And wait some more in cases! But to offer them up and then not let our feet be grounded and covered in faith…well, that’s like making a cast, laying the rod down, and walking away to do the next thing on our mind without every checking to see what’s at the end of our rod! When we have to wait we need to be grounded and rooted. Sam had to stand in the water to make his casts and by simply being IN the water he was in a position to have his feet covered and be locked in for that waiting period. He wasn’t out in the sea but he wasn’t on the dry beach. He was committed to entering the small space of water where he was wet, committed, and prepared for his hope to be met with a monster fish! After we pray it’s good to be become grounded while we wait for an answer. Waves may come and go but in that sliver of beach called life it’s good to be in the water and full of hope.
Daylight faded and the school of fish moved down the shore. None of them made it onto Sam’s line that evening. Even the pelicans came up empty-beaked. It wasn’t meant to be and while we burned a few hours and walked away without a fish we did have an experience. Our talk became all about “the next time” as we trudged back to the house. Because where there’s a “next time” there’s hope. And with hope there’s always a chance that something will get on the end of that line.
Prayers can be like surf-fishing with Sam. They can be short and with the flick of a wrist. They can be launches from the depths with all of your heart. They can be frequent and fast, or they can sit out there for a long time. Those prayers can be met quickly and to our own liking or they can seemingly go out to sea and run out of our time-constraints. Praying can be an exercise in patience and gratitude for what we have before any outcome.
Whatever prayers your offer up today I hope you find yourself in that spot where you can stand in the water and allow yourself to be covered and grounded. You may wait, you may doubt, you may even grow frustrated at the nothing that is on the end of your line. But stay grounded and wait. It’s not over yet. The day might end there is always a “next time” just like there is a next time for Sam surf fishing. Cast those prayers any way you can and allow your feet to stay rooted in the truth while you wait for an answer on the end of your line.
