Blind Casting

Fishing has been on my mind today. I'm reading another book by David James Duncan titled, "The River Why," which takes you into the life of a devoted angler. I am really not an expert on fishing, but the book makes me feel like I should be. It makes me feel like I don't really understand much about life unless I understand the intricacies of snagging a fish. As Gus, the main character in "The River Why," suggests, no fish should ever be disgraced by being caught by someone who doesn't truly understand why or how they caught the fish.

In the purest mind, fishing is meant to be mysterious, graceful - like a primordial chess match. All of which means that fishing seems right up there with complex meditation or performing brain surgery. There's no use trying it unless you appreciate it, and they only way to appreciate it is to be devoted to it.

But all I've ever really know about fishing is what I learned as a boy. My mind is filled with memories of slimy worms and bait floating off my hook, into the abyss that was the neighborhood pond. I see more orange and white, globular bobbers in my mind than I do the current of the water or the holes where the fishes are to be found. To top it all off, my favorite rod was some Donald Duck rod and reel I probably picked up at K-mart. Hey, it served Grandpa and I well, but I've never seen it at Orvis.

I can, however, remember thinking I was devoted to fishing, but that was mostly because my dad fished. Whenever I saw his tackle box, saw my dad readying his line, or watched him cast into the shady spot near the bank, I tried to act as though I knew what lure would be best or why the fish would bite in that one spot.

I was just kidding myself. I really didn't understand it that well. Which is why I'm a little bit nervous about looking for a call these days. (Bear with me; I'm going somewhere with this.) To me, looking for a call is starting to feel a lot like catching a fish. I feel like I should be much more adept and much more cognizant of how to get it done. I should know the general trends and patterns of every Presbytery and every congregation. But mostly I feel like a five year old trying to put a squirming worm on a silver hook. Forget the fact that I'm not all that confident about what I'm offering as bait, I also don't really know how or where to cast. I don't know when the fish are in season or which bait they prefer. So, mostly, I'm left blindly casting a line of prayers and a couple of resumes out into a large, mysterious, murky pool of potential churches.

Good thing Jesus hung out with fisherman. I could use a good tip or two, or, even better, a little help when the fishing seems dry.

Wes