Matthew 4:12-23

Gone Fishing

Do I strike you as the fishing type?  Me neither.  But for a while I was.  Or at least I pretended to be.  If I wanted to have any friends in Logansport, Indiana, then I needed to fish.  At least once a week, off we went with our fishing poles and worms and crickets, down to the banks of the mighty Wabash River, where we would skip stones and try to avoid snakes. 

I never much liked having to pull the fish off the hook.  I imagined that it must hurt a lot.  But I did like the expectant waiting, the first tug on the line, the rush of adrenaline, the struggle of pulling the fish in.  I threw most of mine back because they were too small or sometimes just because I felt sorry for them. 

So that’s one of my fishing stories...