Going Fishin'

“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.”

~Matthew 4:19

   If I were to fish a big river, the Big Blackfoot in the Bitterroot Mts. of Montana, would be hard to surpass.  Norman Maclean writes in A River Runs Through It, “…in the Artic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to being with my soul… Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.  The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time.  On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops.  Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.  I am haunted by waters.”

   I grew up fishing brooks and small streams in the mountains of central Pennsylvania. I have learned there are two kinds of fishermen: those that go for the fun of it and those that catch fish.  I always set out to be the latter, but more often settled for the fun of it.  It didn’t matter; just being on the stream and the anticipation of the catch were worth the trouble.

   There is something innately spiritual about small stream fishing.  There is a gentleness in catching rainbow and their little brothers the brookies.  It is different than motorized forays on lakes; or the big river trout fishing depicted by Norman Maclean.  The density of the forest and its undergrowth cleaving to the banks of the streambed create an intimacy that invites God into the quiet.

   The balance of life in the spring hung on the first day of fishing season, a day more important to a small town boy than its unloved partner, Income Tax Day.  I had clothes laid out, license pinned to my vest, and gear packed the night before.  There was no need to set an alarm; I would be up long before the appointed time if I slept at all.  Anticipation was my alarm clock.

   I learned to love fishing, trees, water, and small towns; and for nearly half a century I have lived in a city in the desert and fished but a few times.  Go figure!   Growing up I never would have expected that.  Yet who am I to have expected anything?  I have no experience in the future where outcomes live.  I barely reap the proceeds of experiences in a lifetime of living; but somehow I learned to expect.  Those goal setting classes and life control trainers teach us to set a course and expect an outcome if we are to be “successful.”

   I argue the contribution that expectations make. There is confusion between expectation and anticipation.  Except for hermits, setting expectations involves other people who are as unpredictable as weather.  I anticipate a successful catch, but if I return with an empty creel, I do not blame the fish.  I didn’t expect to catch them in the first place.  Why would I be disappointed?   But if outcomes in my life don’t turn out as expected, I am disappointed.  Should I blame someone?  Expectation assumes judgment.  It creates a standard against which we make judgments.  The very act of setting expectations promotes judgment, creates disappointment and can rob us of the joy of the journey.

   Jesus calls us to be fishers of men. We are called to be intentional about offering the un-churched a spiritual home.  He does not ask us to set expectations for our ministry or for others who come?

   Mitch Salmon, a young blogger writes, “I was reading the book, unChristian,* and I was captivated by it. The assertions made… were that young people were leaving our churches in droves because of the Christians.”  Think about it; they are leaving our churches because of us.  Are we placing expectations for Christian life not only on ourselves but on others as well? 

    Matthew quotes Jesus, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” ~ Matt. 22:37 and in John Jesus says, “A new command I give you “Love one another.  As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” ~ John 13:34. Beyond that, what other expectations do we need?

   Writing of his struggle to find a relationship with God, Mitch described his church experiences. 

“I looked around me in the churches I attended and they were filled with shiny, happy people… smiles adorned their faces on Sunday mornings and they were able to answer questions like ‘How are you?’ with responses like, ‘Blessed,’ ‘Spectacular’ and ‘Couldn’t be better!’ Mimicking their outward behavior just wasn’t working for me anymore.  I often wondered what would happen if I were to muster the courage to stand up and scream in the middle of a worship service, “I’m NOT alright!” I didn’t think I would be physically run out, but it seemed likely that from that day forward, I would be the object of blank stares and cold shoulders.  I would become the social leper in their midst forced to cry out, ‘Unclean!’ ” 

   No wonder people are leaving our churches. Like fishermen, maybe there are two kinds of people: those who anticipate joy in life and those that set expectations?  If so, might we who claim to be Christians forego the expectations and take joy in living in the grace of the moment?   Might we fish without expectation?  

   In his song “Gone Fishing” Chris Rhea sings, “And when my time has come / I will look back and see / Peace on the shoreline / That could have been me // You can waste a whole lifetime / Trying to be / What you think is expected of you / But you’ll never be free // May as well go fishing” **

   I anticipate the haunting of the waters of small streams and maybe someday even the Big Blackfoot.  Until then I strive to live without expectation and content myself with the freedom in being one of Jesus’ fishermen.

*  unChristian by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons, Baker Books 2007.

** Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.