Some
people don’t fish because they don’t like the thought of fish guts.
I mean,
what do you do with a keeper if you don’t know how to clean it? Or for some, if
the very thought of touching anything’s entrails repulses them? Winter is
coming, summer is a memory. Indulge me to reminisce about a July day several
summers ago when I cleaned fish for the first time in my adult life.
Fishing
is something I have always wanted to do more of. Unfortunately, it is not something I took
advantage of while living many years in Minnesota. All that lake access did nothing
to bring out the Babe Winkelman in me, it took moving to Nebraska! I bought three fishing licenses in almost two
decades in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, and these just to accompany several
fishing excursions by men in the church – wonderful fellowship times in spite
of my being ‘skunked’ in the fishing department. Yet since moving to this
comparatively lake-forsaken prairie state, not only have I gotten a license
each year to fish back in the north country, but I find myself longing for
angling opportunities to come.
It’s
not that entrails bother me. Nor was it
that I don’t care to eat fish; frankly, I think I could live on seafood. Actually, it was because I was a bit
embarrassed that I would not know what to do with the fish once I caught
it. So that summer was my big moment. All my son and I caught that first time were
a mess of little rock bass, a couple small perch, and one other fish I couldn’t
identify at that time. But since it was a whole lot bigger than any of
the rockies or perch, we kept it. I’ll
admit it, though – my son Jarrett caught it.
(Unfortunately, long after it was eaten, I also determined it may have
been a slightly under-legal-size bass – oops!
But it still tasted great. Please don’t report me.)
What a
production it was when I cleaned them.
For some strange reason the whole family gathered ‘round and watched, as
did the family friends who were visiting at the time. I had hardly a clue what I was doing.
Daughter Maren sighed with the sound of cutting the heads off and protested,
“They're still alive, Dad, that’s cruel…”
Hunter
Man replied, “It’s ok, they don’t feel a thing.” (I have no idea if this is true;
it’s just what hunter men say in such circumstances.) My wife said, “Oh, my
big, strong, handsome, meat-gathering man!” Hunter Man said, “De nada, mon petit chou.” Actually, she
said I had better be careful not to cut off a finger. When I was finally finished, most of the
fillets were no bigger than the end of a teaspoon, except of course for those
from the likely illegal bass, which were more the size of a tablespoon. (Sorry, I’m not into fish cheeks yet, supposedly the prime piece on the
animal. I could barely see the side fillets as it was…)
Sometimes it's
also like this in the spirit realm, isn’t it? Jesus asks us to
be fishers
of people. But we don’t fish because we
don’t like the thought of fish guts...
Words
cannot describe the satisfaction of eating that first batch of tiny
morsels. They were delicious. More than that, I had conquered my reticence. And when my fishing veteran neighbor Don heard I
had filleted rock bass, he said kindly, “Yeah, they’re good practice fish. Boy, if you can fillet rock bass, you can
fillet anything.” (Translate: “What in the heck would you want to mess with
those little pests for anyway?!”)
Good
memories…
Sometimes
it's also like this in the spirit realm, isn’t it? Jesus asks us to be fishers of people. But we
don’t fish because we don’t like the thought of fish guts. It’s as though we want the clean fillets to
jump from the lake right into the cooler.
We don’t want to worry about the mess that’s sure to come. And make no mistake, spiritual fishing can be
messy. If one never wets a line one never has to worry about fish
cleaning. Yet Jesus asks us to reach out
to all people, as they are, messes and all (theirs and ours!). “Don’t be
repelled,” He says. “Draw them in. I will change them later.”
Maybe
we’re like Mr. Wilson in the old Dennis the Menace comic. Dennis laments, “I don’t like to play hide-and-seek
with Mr. Wilson – I hide, but Mr. Wilson don’t seek.” Do we seek?
Do we fish?
Once while Jesus was standing
beside the lake, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God,
he saw two empty boats on the shore; the fishermen were washing their
nets. He got into the one belonging to
Simon Peter, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from
the boat. When he had finished, he said
to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a
catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have
worked all night long but have caught nothing.
Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many
fish that their nets were beginning to break.
So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help
them. And they came and filled both
boats, so that they began to sink. But
when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from
me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” He and
all with him were amazed at the catch of fish.
Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not
be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” (Luke 5:1-10)
~~RGM, from one of
the earliest
entries in my nature journal
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