Pastor Eric & Mike at Prayer

Something from the tackle box:

       The Lord said to Eliphaz, “What my servant Job has said about me is true, but I am angry at you and your two friends for not telling the truth.  So I want you to go over to Job and offer seven bulls and seven goats on an altar as a sacrifice to please me.  After this, Job will pray, and I will agree not to punish you for your foolishness.”  Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar obeyed the Lord, and he answered Job’s prayer.  After Job had prayed for his three friends, the Lord made Job twice as rich as he had been before.  (Job 42:7-10  CEV)

       First of all, I ask you to pray for everyone.  Ask God to help and bless them all, and tell God how thankful you are for each of them.  (1Timothy 2:1 CEV)

       Not every fishing story that I have to tell is my own fishing story.  Over the years I’ve heard and read fishing stories that have taught me a lot about life, both natural life and spiritual life, stories which have become dear to my heart because they have both entertained me and helped me grow.  Of course, I can’t repeat stories I’ve gotten from Norman Maclean, Robert Traver,or Patrick McMannus without infringing on copyright laws and getting myself in a lot of hot water.  You’ll have to read their fishing stories for yourself, which I highly recommend that you do. 

       But some fishing stories that I’ve gotten from other folks I can tell with impunity because they were given to me by friends who expressly told me that I could retell the story, - or there was at least an implied understanding that I could retell it, - or I just assumed that I could retell it because I knew full well that it had never been set down on paper, let alone copyrighted. 

      The two stories I’m telling you today are of this kind.  – er – I mean, the first kind of re-tellable story I mentioned.  My friend, colleague, teacher and mentor in pastoral ministry, the Reverend Eric Lison, is another professional sky-pilot who has enjoyed fishing over his lifetime, and he has expressly told me that I can use these stories about fishing – and prayer – that come from his life.  So, thank you brother Eric. 

neither big nor piney

      Just before Eric came to the small town in Michigan to pastor the Congregational church where I was a member back in the 90s, he had spent a good number of years leading the Community Congregational Church of Big Piney, Wyoming, - which is neither big nor piney.  With a population of 454 souls and an elevation of 6798 feet above sea level, Big Piney sits on a high plain in the mountain country of western Wyoming near the waters of the Green River. 

       The town was established back in the late 1800’s by cattle ranchers who where moving a herd of a thousand head through the area on their way to somewhere else, and got stuck there by the weather for the whole winter.  They figured that this must be where God wanted them and so they set up a ranch and a town.  As good a reason as any, I suppose.

       Because of its elevation and exposed position on those high grasslands, the government put a weather station at Big Piney in 1930.  That very year Big Piney registered the coldest year-round average temperature of any town in the United States, earning it the nickname of Ice-box of the Nation. 

       These are not great tidbits to put in your Chamber of Commerce brochure aimed at attracting new residents and businesses to the area.  But when the Community Congregational Church of Big Piney asked Eric to come out there and be their pastor, my future friend felt that it was something God wanted him to do.  And so he took his wife and his two young sons from the Pittsburg, Pennsylvania area all the way out to the wilds of western Wyoming, where they would stay for quite a few years. 

the Congregational Church in Big Piney a long time ago

       You’ve heard it said that, in life, timing is everything.  Well I don’t believe that it’s everything, but it certainly is something.  And the timing of Pastor Eric’s move to Big Piney was problematic.  They arrived in October, right on the cusp of the long, hard and brutally cold winter months, without having the opportunity to enjoy the brief splendor of a high country spring and summer as a buffer to what was coming.  There was nothing to do for it but to settle into the parsonage and face the facts of high country winter life in community with those who already lived there and knew what it was all about. 

       It was tough.  And yes, spit can freeze into ice before it hits the ground.  But the good people out there, and in places like that, go to church anyway most of the time, the weather not withstanding.  In the average rancher based community’s spiritual outlook on life, if you don’t go to church because the weather is bad, you’re completely missing the whole point of going to church in the first place. 

       That first winter the established community took the new pastor and his family under their collective wing and tried to make it as bearable as possible for them.  One of the people in that community was Mike.  Mike was a church deacon - and he was a fisherman. 

       Mike explained to my friend Eric that almost every winter the area would experience what could just barely be called a “January thaw.”  Not that much would actually thaw out, mind you, but the daytime temperatures would just break the barrier and climb into the thirties for about a week or so on average. 

       Mike extolled this brief respite from the normally sub-zero days of winter as a wonderful chance to go out to the Green River and fish for the trout that would perk up with the brief temperature rise.  Obviously, you had to dress warmly, but it would be bearable, and even a lot of fun if you got into a nice bunch of fish.  He offered to outfit the new pastor with some of his own tackle and take him to a good fishable spot on the Green to show him the ropes just as soon as the conditions were right, and my friend Eric accepted the invitation.    

       With the arrangements all made, the thaw finally came, and Pastor Eric and Mike drove out to the Green River to fish.  It was a sunny and beautiful day, and every bit as wonderful a break from the horrible winter cold that Mike had said it would be, or – at least it would be for Eric that day.  They were casting from shore with metal spoon lures and the fish were biting, or – at least they were for Eric. 

       My friend caught the first, and the second, and the third trout.  And then he caught the fourth, - and the fifth, - and the sixth trout, - at which point he’d reached his limit.  They were all nice fish, about three to four pounds each.  Now Mike is right there, trying to be as graceful as he can to the new pastor, but every fisherman who has been getting skunked while his fishing buddy limits out, standing right next to him, has to know how badly Mike’s psyche was twisting up by this time. 

       “Mike, I’ve got my limit.  Should I stop and just watch while you fish for a while?” asked Eric. 

       “No. - Keep fishing,” Mike replied.  “If you catch any more we’ll just put  ‘em with any I get.  It looks like I’m not going to catch my limit today anyway.” 

       So they fished on, - and my friend Eric caught the seventh fish, - and then the eighth fish of the day, - each as nice as the first six. 

       “OK, that’s enough for one day.  It’s time to head back home,” said the dejected yet graceful organizer of the outing.  He was genuinely happy that his new pastor was having such a wonderful time catching fish, but it was getting pretty embarrassing, especially since he had placed himself in the role of resident expert for Eric’s introduction to Wyoming trout fishing. 

       Once they had stowed their tackle and the fish, and then climbed into the vehicle for the drive home, Mike asked, with as much of a smile on his face as he could muster, “OK pastor, - what’s your secret?  You were obviously doing something that I wasn’t doing to catch all those fish, while I got nothing.”

       Now Eric had just been fishing.  That’s all.  As far as he could tell there was no obvious reason that he had caught all eight of the trout that were taken that day while Mike had caught none.  BUT, being the man – and the pastor – that he is, Eric was not going to pass up this opportunity to have some fun with his new deacon – and just maybe teach him a little theological lesson in Christian living to boot.

       Now understand that Eric is just making this up as he goes along at this point when he says to Mike, “Well, – I was praying while I fished. - Maybe that was it.”

       “NO, that wasn’t it because I was praying too!  There’s got to be something else you were doing!” 

       “Yeah, - but Mike, - you probably weren’t praying the same way I was praying! – Each time I cast my lure into the water I would say this same prayer, over and over again, - with all my heart, - ‘O Lord, - please let MIKE catch a fish. - O Lord, please let MIKE catch a fish.’” 

       “Oh. – So, - each time you cast your lure, - you prayed, - ‘O Lord, - please let MIKE catch a fish.’”

       “That’s right.”

       “And after praying, ‘O Lord, - please let MIKE catch a fish,’ over and over again, - YOU would eventually catch another fish, - again and again.  That’s how it worked?” 

       “That’s how it worked today!  Isn’t it amazing!” 

       Now, even though Eric is obviously baiting Mike here with this fishy line, I hope you can see the big theological lesson that my friend was also trying to teach his parishioner.  Gracious and self-less prayer for the sake of others is far more pleasing to God than prayer concerned only with one’s own self and welfare. Not that we should never petition God for our own needs, if they are genuine needs, but intercession for the needs of others is far nobler, far more righteous, far more Christ-like, than petitions for self are, and they are often more effective in surprisingly abundant ways.  Amazingly, intercessory prayer is often likely to result in blessings all around, for all concerned, the pray-er and the prayed-for, together.

       Look at the example of Job in the bible.  Much of the 42 chapters in the book of Job present the title character vehemently talking both with and about God, concerning his OWN wretched circumstances.  We see Job defending himself, - complaining, pleading, wailing and arguing with his friends and with God, if not for some redress, at least for some answers as to why God has allowed so much misery to suddenly befall HIS blameless life.  And the only answer that Job ever gets to all of his self-centered haranguing, as just and true as God himself admitted that it all was, is an eloquent, “Who are you to question Me about anything,” speech from God.  That’s it!  That’s all he gets up to this point in the story. 

       But afterwards, Job is asked to pray on behalf of his three old friends, who never prayed for Job’s welfare without injecting their self-righteous certainty that all of Job’s problems were really Job’s own fault, which they were wrong about.   And when Job prays that his three friends be forgiven for expressing all of their firmly held beliefs, which they had just learned were untrue and offensive to God, not only are they returned to God’s good graces, - but JOB is also restored to twice as much prosperity as he had enjoyed before his sufferings began. 

       Maybe God intended to do that all along.  I don’t know.  But it’s interesting that it didn’t happen until Job had prayed for his friends who hadn’t been through anything comparable to what he had just gone through. 

       The scriptures don’t teach that it will always work that way, and it often doesn’t.  Still, I’ve learned that when I pray that I catch fish, it doesn’t really seem to make any significant difference one way or the other in the number of fish I catch that day for having made that prayer.  The average is the same whether I’ve prayed to catch fish or haven’t prayed to catch fish.  I know, because I keep track of that sort of thing. 

       I do pray when I fish.  In fact, I pray almost constantly when I fish.  But it’s more in the nature of just enjoying God’s company, which I can’t help but continuously notice whenever I’m out on the water, than it is in the nature of any kind of verbal supplication. 

       I’ve also learned that when I’ve been thinking about, praying over, and doing good things for others in life, for their sake and not for mine, doing so as a servant of God, - in the pattern of Christ, - and in His Spirit, - my life just seems to get blessed in all kinds of wonderful ways, large and small, over and above its normal blessed state.  If it isn’t good fishing, it will be something else. 

       Or maybe, in being that way, I’m just put in the spiritual frame of mind to notice more of the blessings that have always all been there for me ever more fully, and it just seems like I’m being blessed more.  Who can tell?  You go figure it out with your own life, by trying it for yourself, and you will see how it works.

       That is the big spiritual truth that lies at the very core of the half-serious game that pastor Eric is playing with his friend’s head in their silly little exchange about prayer being used as a fishing technique.  So, back to the fishing story: 

       Even though this light hearted exchange about what constitutes effective fishing prayer has all been good natured joshing between the two new friends, the pastor wonders if the parishioner might have learned anything at all from it.  Eric’s hope is that when next they go fishing Mike will make a great show of loudly praying, “O Lord, - please let ERIC catch a fish,” before he makes his first cast.  It will be meant in jest of course, but it will show that the concept has taken hold, that the knowledge that praying for others is more acceptable to God, and more likely to bear fruit into the world than prayers for self, has at least gained some foothold in Mike’s heart.  One can hope.

       The hope is encouraged the next time they go out fishing together.  Mike questions Eric about the prayer again.  “OK, - let me get this straight. – You prayed, ‘O Lord, - please let MIKE catch a fish,’ and each time you ended up catching a fish.” 

       “That’s right.” 

        “OK, I’ve got it.”

       As Mike winds up to make his first cast of the day he shouts to the sky, “O Lord, - Please let MIKE catch a fish!” 

       He hadn’t learned a thing.

Something to take home in your creel:

       Prayer is a tricky subject for me.  Even though I’m a man of faith, a professional even, the vagaries of just how prayer works from one occasion to the next baffle and even disturb me.  I know it works.  I’ve seen it work.  I have been told that it always works.  And I pray every single day in confident faith that it will work.  But I also know full well that it doesn’t always, or even often, work the way that I hope it will work. 

       From my admittedly limited point of view it sometimes seems to have made not one wit of difference one way or the other that I’ve prayed at all, for myself or for others, even though I accept that it has made a difference from God’s unlimited point of view.  Still, it is a frustratingly holy practice for me to pray and be satisfied with, ‘Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, in earth as it is in heaven,’ when I can’t always see it working out that way.

       My friend Eric has another story about prayer and fishing on the Green River that takes place the following year, in October.  The really cold winter weather has come early this year, as it sometimes does in all of its freezing cruelty in Big Piney, but the time for the salmon run has come and one can stand some pretty cold temperatures for the sake of those wonderful fish if the wind is dead calm and the sun is out.  And they needed to be, because on this sunny October day in Big Piney the temperature display on the bank sign says that it’s thirty five degrees below zero.  Which is cold for October, even in Big Piney.

A sunny but icy day on the Green River

       Eric has gone out to fish by himself this time.  The water will be open down by the dam, forty five miles away, and he figures he’ll have the spot all to himself because of the temperature.  It is bitter cold and the banks are frozen icy when he gets there, but the wind is still, the sun is out, and the salmon fishing is very good. 

       About the time that Eric needs to be heading back home he’s got 5 nice salmon, only one fish away from his limit.  And so he prays, - “O God, - please let me catch just one more fish, - so that I can go home with my limit. - After all, - Mike isn’t here to pray for today.”

       Well, God has a sense of humor too.  Right after the prayer Eric casts his lure out into the icy river and, low and behold, he gets a strike.  A nice one!  He yanks back on his rod to set the hook, but the fish runs in a direction he isn’t expecting it to run and he has to shift his body to compensate.  -  And that’s when he looses his footing on the icy bank and slides all the way down into the Green River, getting completely soaked from the belt down. 

       Amazingly, Eric manages to keep the fish on his line.   In a few minutes he lands his last fish, limiting out.  His prayer has been answered.  He steps out of the water and his pants immediately freeze solid.  He stows the fish and his tackle.  At thirty-five degrees below zero it will take a long time for the car heater to make a difference in his comfort level on that forty-five mile ride home.  His prayer has been answered all right, but not in the way he had hoped for.  God can be funny like that. 

       Eric’s next prayer of the day was, “O, God, - please let my car start after sitting outside in these temperatures all this time,” and he still counts himself blessed that God saw fit to answer that one without any more object lessons attached.