Gone Fishing

I was never a fan of fishing. I wanted to rename the sport “Waiting.” That is how I remember it as a child on my Uncle Ed’s boat, waiting for fish to bite. My Uncle Ed liked company on his boat, during the summer. I don’t really know why. We didn’t talk. We had to maintain silence. At the time, I thought that was so the fish did not hear our conversations. We would do this all day, with only a break for a baloney sandwich. We were “gone fishing.”

I learned only after my son, Holland, was in his mid-twenties that he was disappointed because I never took him fishing as a child. Of course, I told him that there was an important reason for this. I hated fishing and didn’t want to impose on him the same torture that I endured growing up. I have since prayed that I would be given the opportunity to redeem myself in his eyes and take him fishing.

A House On the Ocean

Recently, I got this chance and my fondness of fishing changed on a trip to Marco Island. My daughter and son-in-law rented a house on an inlet to the ocean. I traveled there to mostly help her watch the boys, but while I was there I decided to buy my grandsons fishing poles and tackle. I made them walk with me the two-mile trip to the bait store and we purchased live shrimp. At first, I had to do everything, tie the tackle, bait the hooks, cast the rods . . . everything.

I was busy, but the first day turned incredible when they started reeling in fish, lots of fish. Having grown up fishing on fresh water lakes, I quickly discovered there to be a greater variety of fish than I had seen before. At one point, my grandson pulled up a large fish that looked to me like a baby shark. It had big teeth, so I cut the line and threw it back in. Only after he reeled in the second one, I Googled it and found it to be a Spanish Mackerel.

A Large Bucket Of Fish

After a few hours, we had a large bucket of fish and of course the grands wanted to cook and eat them. But these were not lake perch, so Rayshawnda (Holland’s girlfriend) and I decided to go to the fish market where she talked the owner into filleting the fish for us. He did and we watched. My youngest grandson’s eyes were glued to the man’s actions. The owner even cooked the fish for us. That night we had a feast. 

The next day the action was not quite as good, but everyone pulled in fish. On the fourth day, when Lizzy, my son, and son-in-law joined us, the action was the best yet. Everyone caught fish. By then the grands were casting their reels like pros. I got to fish with Holland and he even reeled in the largest Spanish Mackerel of the trip. That evening I filleted the fish and Holland cooked them on the grill. It was amazing. 

So, I’ve since been dreaming. Maybe, I’ll buy a boat and open “Chuck’s Pretty Good Fishing Charter Service.” Yeah, I can see it now, “Captain Chuck.”

A Bad Impression Of God

My purpose is not to convince anyone to become a fishermen. Some of you, however, may have a wrong impression of God, made from a bad experience, or from watching someone you thought was “supposed” to be a messenger from God. Perhaps, your impression of God is just as jaded as was my impression of fishing. 

Today, if given an invitation to go fishing, I would accept it. I would gladly put out a sign that says, “gone fishing.” I now understand how much fun this can really be. With my blog, I plan to share many stories about Jesus. I also plan to provide an invitation to meet Jesus, the Son of God, and accept his love for you. Jesus does not call you into a relationship of obligation and dread, but of peace and joy. I pray that you accept my invitation.

Also see, Do Not Fear, God Is On Your Side.

Copyright © 2023 Chuck Locklear