Many years ago a friend invited me to go salmon fishing. I had no idea how to do such a thing, but with great patience my friend told me what I needed to do to prepare. I needed a heavy duty fishing rod with specific lures, weights, and line. I was to wear hip waders. When I got a fish on the line, I was to say loudly, “Fish on!” and other specific directions.
Having listened intently to the instructions, I made myself ready for the big day. We drove a couple of hours to river. My friend donned all the appropriate gear and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw my outfit. I had duct taped heavy-duty garbage bags over my tennis shoes and up my legs to keep me from getting soaking wet. I wore a pink baseball cap and a lightweight powder blue windbreaker which bulged on one side where I’d shoved in a can of diet soda. I saw no reason for the sneers directed at me by the fishing hot shots. After all, my rod, reel and tackle were standard issue and suitable for the excursion. As long as I didn’t get soaking wet, why should I have to look like every other fisherman on the river?
I sat back and watched the activity for a while to get the feel of the place and the people. Casting into the river when people were standing almost shoulder to shoulder along the bank intimidated me. Finally, I decided to wade into the water.
A young man had vacated a spot which gave me access to the river’s edge. In the excitement of the moment, I forgot to yell out that I was casting my line. I got a dirty look and word from a lady behind me who almost got hooked when I launched my line toward the water. I apologized and then turned my attention back to fishing.
I cast and reeled like the rest of them, and on my second or third try my hook got stuck on something underwater. I pulled the line but it didn’t move.
“I think I snagged my line,” I said to my friend who was standing close to me. “What should I do?”
“Cut the line.”
I didn’t want to cut the line. The weights and hooks were expensive. However, I couldn’t stand there looking at my line all day, so I started to put my pole down so I could get my knife.
The pole moved. As I watched my line, it was moving upstream. Snags don’t move upstream.
“I’ve got a fish!” I said a little breathlessly.
My friend said, “Oh, you do not. You can’t have a fish this quick.”
The line continued to move upstream as all the training my friend had given me left my brain.
“There is a fish on my line. What do I do?”
By this time the people around me were backing away leaving space on all sides of me. Even if I didn’t know protocol, they did. At no time did I ever say “Fish on!” nor did I tell anyone which way I was going to move. All I knew was that somehow there was a fish on the end of my line that I didn’t want to lose.
Oh, it was a battle. I reeled and tugged and reeled more. I breathed hard and sometimes not at all. I dug the butt of my fishing rod into my thigh so deep that I was bruised for weeks. But finally I got that fish in.
It was a 22 pound salmon, a slimy beauty. My friend reached down to unhook the fish and found that the hook was just barely attached to its lower lip.
One lady came up to me afterward and asked, “How long have you been salmon fishing?” When I told her this was my first day, she shook her head and said, “My son has been trying to catch one of those for years.” She pointed to her son, and he was the young man who had vacated the river bank where I ended up standing.
The moral of this story: Fishing is not a spectator sport.
Neither is fishing for souls.
I’m about to get personal.
Our pastor preaches and teaches God’s Word. He does so “for the equipping of the saints for the work of service.” (Ephesians 4:12) God did not intend for the pastor to be the only one with a fishing pole. His preaching and teaching is about equipping each of us to hold and use our own fishing poles, to fish in the streams, rivers and lakes around our community. We have a lot of lost people in our area and he alone cannot reach all of them. His responsibility is to teach each of us how to reach those within our sphere of influence.
“But I’m not gifted as an evangelist.” Oh really? Let’s see what the Bible says about that. “And He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.” (Mark 16:15) Jesus was talking to the eleven after His resurrection. He didn’t point to just a couple of them who were great speakers or comfortable around others. He spoke to each of them and told them to go out and tell people the Good News of His saving work on the behalf of all creation.
Would they always do it like He showed them? No. Did He require them to get it right all the time? No.
Jesus requires these things: 1) That you believe He is who He says He is, and 2) that you are willing. He will make you able. He will help you become equipped. He will even give you the words if you ask Him.
All you have to do is take one short step outside your comfort zone and cast out your line. Start fishing before the season is over and we end up with riverbanks littered with dead stinking fish.
Here’s your pole.