"Was blind but now I see ..."

-

I can remember the frustration like it was yesterday, although it was probably nearer to 30 years ago. I was walking alongside a small stream (more of a ditch, really) that joined the River Cam and, as every angler does, my eyes peered through the water's layers as I walked. And then I saw it: a tiny baby pike, no more than 6 inches long. Excited, I pointed it out to my (non-angling) walking companions Graham and Alex. They looked and looked, squinted, screwed up their faces in strange contortions but could see nothing. "Look, it's there, next to that leaf .... it's just moved ... look" I implored, but still they saw no mini pikelet. Their inability to see gave way to banter: "Yea, right, you must think we were born yesterday ... nice try ... like a fish would be in that tiny stream anyway...." But the pike was there. I saw it.

It made me think of so many in the crowds who saw Jesus. There in front of them was the Messiah, the Son of God and they didn't see it; they saw a man, perhaps they'd concede a wise man or a prophet, they often called him "teacher" but they didn't realise who he really was.

Many of the folk who we meet at work, on the river bank, in the pub, our friends, neighbours and relatives are like that crowd. They acknowledge that Jesus was a historical figure but they haven't realised his true identity, or what he wants to do for them.

I guess if I'd had some polarising sunglasses to cut out the surface glare then even my friends, who lacked the experienced fish-spotting eye of an angler, might have seen the baby pike. Perhaps our job as Christians called by Jesus to be "his witnesses" is to be like polarising sunglasses to our non-believing friends: to do all we can to make it easier for them to see Jesus, and having seen to follow.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"This one's a keeper ..."

-
Image
Back in 2013 I enjoyed one of the biggest adventures of my life. I drove around the Southern States of America and hung out with different groups of Christian anglers, hunters and general outdoors people. Starting in Georgia I drove to South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri and Arkansas. It was a blast. Most of my fishing was done in enormous lakes, either from a high powered bass boat or wading into the warm water and casting, but my first experience of angling US style was in Charleston, SC and was fishing off the end of a pontoon in the ocean. My guide was Susan Dalton of Angling Women and Old Bridge Outfitters , mad keen angler and member of a large Presbyterian church in Charleston and under her tutelage I caught a skate and the flounder shown in the picture above. The skate was returned to the water, but the flounder caused a different kind of excitement. A tape measure was produced, the size of the fish noted and the pronouncement mad
Read more

On fishing for people

-
Image
The T-shirt I'm wearing in the photo above is one of my favourites. Made for me, and given to me, by my pal David (he's the big guy next to me) when I was visiting him in the USA in 2013, it bears the legend "Go Fish", followed by the reference from Luke's Gospel that records Jesus' famous words as he called his first disciples to leave their life of commercial fishing and follow him on an adventure of evangelism.  I (like Izaak Walton) have always rather liked the fact that it was to fishing that Jesus turned when he wanted to call and commission his first followers, but a fellow member of Christian Anglers made me stop and think a couple of weeks ago when we were talking over a pint.  He'd always slightly struggled to come to terms with Jesus' "evangelism as fishing" metaphor, because, as my friend pointed out, fishing is all about deception - tricking a fish into thinking something with a hook in it is natural food, and shar
Read more

Tales of the unexpected

-
Image
My first fishing trip of this year, made in the company of two other Christian Anglers members, was with specimen perch as the intended target. The specimen perch aspiration was a realistic one, as the pond concerned was one from which all three of us have landed out-sized perch and where, although the fishing is never easy, normally at least one of the party lands a stripey, spiky fish that merits weighing and a quick "grip and grin" for the camera. However, this time round the only perch we caught were miniscule, and the fish we predominantly caught were roach, almost all in the six ounce to three quarters of a pound size range. Now, don't get me wrong, they were handsome fish, silver hued like something from a jeweller's window and good fun to catch, but they weren't what we expected or had ventured to the lake in search of. Reflecting afterwards, I thought about how that fishing trip was, in a sense, a microcosm of life itself. So often what happen
Read more