We were camping this week along a lazy stretch of the humble Duck River which ran alongside the state park campground. To look at it, the water looked murky, no wider than a rock could be thrown to the other side, and frankly, no fish in sight. The river was bordered by walls of eroded granite and large trees leaning precariously over the muddy banks.
But as my husband always says, “The fish are there. You can’t catch one, unless you wet your line.”
And so, in the middle of one afternoon, he fished for a while, casting out into the slowly moving water, under the canopy of a crystal blue sky and early-October leaves just starting to change colors. Nothing in the water even moved.
The next afternoon, a little cloudier and cooler, he scrambled down a bank on the other side of the two-lane, and tried another spot with a different lure. Within the first few casts, he landed the largest small-mouth bass he had ever caught.
Later, we discovered that this unassuming piece of water is part of a 284 mile tributary. And surprise of surprises, more species of fish are found in the humble Duck River than in all the rivers of Europe combined.
The fish are there. We just don’t always see them. Or wait for them.
Fishing is not about hurrying, or even catching countless fish, but listening, watching and wonder. So is praying. To just be still before God, taking the time to be aware of His Presence, and to converse in ways that cannot be limited by mere words.
When we pray, we “wet our line,” and cast before the eternal God our concerns, joys and questions. “What do I do in this situation?” “What is Your way through?” “What is now and what is next?” Not for God to bring an answer of our own choosing (I’ll take a 20-inch rainbow trout, please), never if there will be an outcome, but realizing that God is already responding in ways far beyond our imagination and the perimeters of our prayers.
In the vocabulary of those who fish –or pray-- the words hope, waiting, and patience all have a common thread of expectation. Something will happen, something is about to happen. God is not limited by the passage of time we place on Him.
Waiting is not a passive spectator sport, but a fully-engaged activity, aware, prepared, and ready to go. Indeed, another way to define waiting is to serve, as in a waiter.
And even as we watch and listen and serve Him in the interim, God surprises us. He ambushes us with His goodness in the most unexpected ways of all, in the most unfamiliar spaces, and unlikely times.
Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for Him. Psalm 37. 7
Why are fishing and praying so caught up in waiting?
We may not yet be ready. The point at this time may not be about catching a whopper at all, or seeing an answer, but a matter of trusting Him. Not dependent on what happens to come to the surface, but willing to accept what God brings about.
And as we pray one way, and then another, whether starting or continuing to pray, we begin to pray differently about what is before us. We become aware of Him. We are not speaking words into a void, but conversing with the Almighty. Welcome God and invite Him in, and dwell with Him in a state of expectation.
Is not this to know Me? declares the LORD. Jeremiah 22. 16
God nudges us to try –or pray-- another way in this. His response may not be on this meek and mild stretch of river, or in this volatile situation. It may not be this afternoon, but tomorrow. It may be not catching fish at all, but rising to one’s feet in the splendor of His creation, aware of His Presence, listening to His voice on the smooth waters, standing firm in expectation, and trusting Him just a little more.
Those are the conditions in which the faithful can flourish.
And when we are content in following Him, even in the most unexpected places, He says to us, “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in, because of the quantity of fish. John 21. 6
And after a day of fishing, I will often ask my husband, “How did you do?”
He nearly always smiles and replies, “It’s not about the fish.”
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