A Fishy Tail

It had been a long, weary,
bone aching,
soul-destroying night.
Salty nets had been cast into the deep, repeatedly.
Each time as we hauled them in,
we longed to see the moonlight shining on silvery fins.
Yet, we knew, before the net landed on the deck,
that it would be empty.
For there had been no battle
with a slippery heaving mass,
fighting to the last to avoid capture.
The conditions were wrong.
Something had changed
and we knew not what,
or why
or for how long.

Bittersweet were the suns rays, as they broke across the bay.
Bringing a reprieve to our tormented labours,
but also the finality of our failure to catch a thing.
Fishing was our job.
We could read the seas and skies and knew instinctively where the shoals of fish swam.
But not tonight, oh no, not tonight.
It was as if the had been lured them away, beyond our reach.

As we sat, mending our nets, the preacher appeared.
All he had to do was stand or sit still for a minute or two,
and crowds would appear
as if drawn by some mystical magnetic forces.
"If only we had had that good fortune with our fishing last night!" 
I reflected ruefully to Andrew.
The crowd were eager, as ever, to listen to the storyteller,
pressing closer and closer.
I were just contemplating how long it would be before the teacher got his feet wet,
when he turned and looked at me,
and it was as if he read my mind.
"Can I come aboard?" he asked.
I could hardly refuse. What harm would it do?
So there was the Jesus guy, in our family boat, teaching the crowd.
Whatever next?

When he finished he sent the crowd away, and turned and suggested a fishing trip.
We looked at him and told him the conditions were not right
and confessed our failure.
"We fished all night and caught nothing. Not one single fish. 
It would be a complete waste of time!"
He just smiled an enigmatic smile and settled down.
Well we could hardly turf him off the boat, so off we rowed, into the deep once more.
Not exactly what we had planned for today, but hey!
"Cast your nets." he instructed us.
Against our better judgement, we did.
Immediately the net took on a life of its own, as the fish flowed into the net,
as if summoned by some unspoken call.
The weight was too much for us to lift into our boat,
so we hollered over to James and John.
"Quick! Come and help us land this catch before we sink!"
Even with their assistance we still had to row like billy-o to shore,
before we were drowned by this unexpected bounty.

I fell on my knees, overwhelmed by my sinful inadequacy.
Who was this that understood the seas better than those
who had worked them since they were young?
Who was this that called the fish out of the depths
and into our nets.
Whoever it was, I was not worthy to be in his presence.

The preacher, jumped out of the boat,
striding through the shallow water and on to the beach.
He turned and called to us, his voice carrying clearly over the water.
"Come with me! Come and be fishers of men."
I looked at the biggest catch of fish I had ever seen in my life.
Silvery, gleaming in the sunshine
Sufficient possibly to feed a few thousand folk,
I knew, in that moment, that my fishing days were over,
yet were about to begin.


Inspired by Open the Book.
Guess what story we did today?