A fish tale — and a lesson on taking risks
This past week, I was invited on an adventure.
A friend of mine from church asked me to go along with him and three of his friends to the Gulf Coast, where we camped at the beautiful Goose Island State Park and spent three days kayaking in the bay and various creeks and inlets in the area. It was amazing and new and fresh for me.
To describe each new thing I experienced during these three days would take a lot more than this single blog post. But for a guy who blogs about church marketing and Christianity, it’s hard not to derive some spiritual lessons from several of my experiences over the past week.
One thing that struck me during this trip was that at some point over the past decade I’d misplaced my natural zest for adventure.
Boys and men are built for exploration, competition, and adventure. I see this daily in my three sons who stage epic battles in the living room, play monster tag (you’ll have to see it to understand it) in the backyard, and who (right now, as I write at 9 a.m.) play some very competitive kickball games.
Before this recent trip, I’d never really kayaked before. One of the advantages of a kayak is your ability to maneuver through the water and get back into some tight spots to find the fish that no one else can access.
On the first day, we put into the water and we paddled past the oyster beds to a more open body of water. On the way out we passed an area with very tall grass. As I passed by, I saw a three-foot opening in the grass, a little “trail” of water that led back into an unexplored (for me, anyway) area. Something called to me to go back there and explore. But I didn’t.
Why?
Fear and a lack of confidence.
Fear that I would get stuck. Fear that I would flip the kayak and not be able to signal to my friends. Fear that the stories of alligators in the area were actually true. And, yes, even fear that I might hook into something really big and have absolutely no clue how to land the thing in a kayak.
So I passed up the opportunity and paddled by and fished a more open body of water to no avail.
After a half hour or so, I realized my friends had paddled back to where we’d put in and I was alone. I could see them disappearing in the distance. I started to paddle back too when I saw that opening again. Something said, “Go in.” I actually thought of the scripture that says “Narrow is the way” and I laughed because this trail of water was pretty narrow.
I fished around the opening for awhile, contemplating the move. Should I go in? Should I separate myself even more from the group? Are there snakes in those weeds?
Dang it, I’m on an adventure! So I pushed forward.
I paddled through the opening and the weeds, and after about 20 feet, it opened into a larger pool. In front of me, there was a tuft of weeds that, in any lake, would be the perfect spot for a large bass to reside. I figured the same would be true for saltwater, so I threw my bait just shy of the weeds and waited.
Then BAM! The cork slammed under the water and I pulled up on the rod to set the hook. Whatever I had was big, and it started to pull me. Suddenly, I had no control. Both hands were on the pole and the fish on the end of my line was pulling me through the pool of water! I started laughing and whooping — WHAT A RIDE!
After a few minutes, I was able to reel a few times and I finally saw the fish’s body rise to the top and I got a glimpse of his head. For a guy who grew up fishing the streams for 1-3 pound trout in the state parks and rivers of Missouri, I soon realized I’d hooked into something bigger than I’d ever handled.
I reeled some more and finally pulled it into the boat. For me, it was a big fish. A 10-pound red drum measuring 24 inches. Nobody else was there to see it. Just me. I pulled it in the kayak and was so giddy, I couldn’t even think to put it on a stringer. With the fish still hooked and sitting at my left foot in the kayak, I secured the pole and paddled furiously back to the group.
The guys saw my catch — the first keeper of the week — and there were high-fives all around. It was exhilarating.
I’m so thankful I didn’t miss the chance for that blessing and that experience.
So how does this story fit with this blog?
Some thoughts:
- If you want to reach men and boys for Christ, one way to do so is to tap into their natural zest for competition and adventure.
- Sometimes we fail to share Christ with others, launch ministries, or take risks out of a fear of failure. We’re presented with an opportunity, but we think of all the ways we can screw it up and we talk ourselves out of it. Then we miss a thrilling opportunity.
- Life here is fleeting. Don’t waste time talking yourself out of adventures God has planned for you.
Do you feel that you’ve lost your sense of adventure? Is God challenging you to take a leap of faith?
If you’d like to read an inspiring story about a man who takes a “just do it” approach to his life as a Christian, read Bob Goff’s book Love Does. Here is my review and recommendation of this book.