I went fishing today. It was a delightful diversion for me. As I stood on the bank of the large pond, I could not help but meditate on the spiritual nature of fishing. No, I am not speaking of being a fisher of men, though the correlation to that is very obvious.
Fishing has many spiritual analogies. The place you fish is important. When you fish is important. The bait is important. There are so many things I could say. I am all too aware that one could poke holes in the illustrations at hand. But bear with me.
I want to make one point that stood out to me. It's about the fishing hole. I have one, a pond of just over an acre. For those of you who are fishing enthusiasts, there are largemouth bass and bream, plus catfish that live there. In the short time I was there, looking at this pond, hidden in the woods a quarter-mile off a back road, I was moved by its beauty and the promise of great fishing it held for me.
Sure enough, as I stood there in the silence of those woods, a large one, commonly known as a lunker, rolled over in the water. Off on the other side, a large grey crane flew off. Had I stood there long enough, I have no doubt one of the many deer that live in those woods would have slipped up for a drink of water.
The wind whispered in the trees around me. The occasional bird called out. Squirrels played in the trees beyond me. It was a sight to behold, with sounds that blessed my ears.
But one thing was lacking: there was no way to get down to the water and cast my line. Yes, in my absence the woods crept up to the banks around the pond. The underbrush was so thick that I could only look longingly at this body of water that held such promise of great fishing.
So off I went, in search of another place to fish, the place I mentioned above as I began this blog.
I stood on the banks of the first pond I mentioned, my cousin's pond, casting my line in different directions, looking for that hungry bass. My mind went back to my pond. It was so grown over I could not take advantage of it. I wanted to, but it was a futile attempt.
The overgrowth made me think of my life. It's a lot like a fishing hole, a place for others to be blessed. Is it unattended, as well? If someone wanted or needed to "fish" in my life, would he be able to get close enough to cast his line? Or would my neglect block him out? What would I need to cut away to give someone access to the fruit God has placed within me to bless others with?
What about your life? Is it in good enough shape for someone to be blessed by it? Or have you neglected your fishing hole?
Oh, I did not catch anything today. But the communion with the Lord was worth the 2 hours I stood and cast that line.