What Fly-Fishing Unhooks Me From

I fish on a weekly a basis, sometimes on a daily basis. I fly-fish to be specific. If you don’t know what fly-fishing is, just think “A River Runs Through It” with Robert Redford. And if you haven’t seen “A River Runs Through It” with Robert Redford, than please do me a favour and go watch that marvellous movie.

I love fly-fishing so much. I love everything about it. Being in/on a river, being away from buildings and traffic, hearing only the noise of water rushing past the boulders, and the beautiful sight of that fly dancing in the air above me and then coming to gently lay down on the water’s surface.

Truth be told though, according to my fish-record, I am a terrible fly-fisherman (don’t tell my four-year-old son). I have the patience for fly-fishing as well the love for it. After many years of casting, I have acquired the skill for it too. But I rarely land a fish on the shore, and I mean rarely.

Getting unhooked

You know what my problem is? I just don’t care enough about the fish. If I really cared about catching them, I would spend more time thinking about the layout of the river. I would start checking the insides of the few fish that I do catch to see what the other fish are eating. I would widen my catalogue of flies to choose from, and I would put far more care into my presentation of the fly to the fish. But I just don’t care.

At the end of the day, I don’t go fly-fishing for the fish. I never have. Even though it is an incomparable rush when I finally get one hooked. No, I go fly fishing because of what fly-fishing unhooks me from.

It is impossible for me to fly-fish and hold my phone, and that is the beauty of it for me. The modern world seems to be making it harder and harder for a person to find solitude; to find space to be alone with the Lord in prayer. What fly-fishing offers me is a glorious landscape, and an activity that keeps my mind free and my hands busy.

When my fly rod is in hand, my phone is not. Most often it is nowhere near me, because there is no use for it on the river and no room for it in my hands. Fly-fishing forces my phone out of the picture, and it creates space for me to talk to my heavenly Father without any noise or distraction except for the rare and sudden splash of a rainbow leaping out of the water with my hook in its mouth.

Its Never Been About the Fish

I am a terrible fly-fisherman and I always will be. I know I will never win a trophy for fly-fishing, but I also know that I will never stop doing it, because frankly it’s never been about the fish for me. It’s always been about Jesus.

As Wendell Berry once wrote, “He [God] goes fishing every day in the Kentucky River. I see Him often.”

So, what is your fly-fishing?

 

Phones Should Be Illegal

It’s funny.

Time is my most precious commodity, and yet I part with it so easily.

My phone doesn’t even fight me for it, I give it to it willingly.

In different packaging I might call it my sworn enemy, a monster, not a friend to me.

But that’s what its become to me, a friend that does great harm to me.

A demon cloaked in all tranquility.

Deep thoughts I have given up in exchange for ultimately unsatisfying stimulation, mixed with nothing.

Deep community I have handed in, in exchange for a short lived feeling that I am something.

In the moment I think that I am gaining something left to gain.

In reality all that has happened is that another handful of my life’s been spent in vain.

Phones be damned. Smart phones should be banned.

Simply because we are all too dumb to realize that we are the ones being held inside a hand.

 

When Words Fail

How do you speak of One of whom no human word or words can contain? One who says rightfully and rhetorically of Himself, “To whom will you compare me?” (Is. 40.25)

I guess you try to go beyond words. Use words to point to something infinitely further.

He is great like nothing else is great. Greater than the greatest that anything or anyone ever will be. He is the mountain range that towers over top of the Himalayas. The light that shines brighter than the brightest stars wrapped around the sun and shining at their brightest. He is that series of notes strung together, more beautiful, melodic, poetic and angelic than our brains can register, than our ears can even hear. He is the colours that sit on a canvas that our eyes aren’t even capable of seeing, much less our minds capable of understanding what it is we see.

He is simply infinitely greater than all that the language of greatness can convey. Maybe that is why John resorted to speaking in precious stones, “And he who sat there had the appearance of jasper and carnelian, and around the throne was a rainbow that had the appearance of an emerald” (Revelation 4.3)