On a recent trip to Florida, it was my joy to combine a bit of pleasure with business and make my way out to the coast to find a bit of time to engage in one of my favorite sports – fishing. If you fish much, you know there is no taste that compares to the taste of fresh, salt-water fish. I pre-planned and discovered the species that was in close to shore, packed the requisite gear, poles, tackle, bait buckets, saltwater gear, knives, and a landing net. I researched a nice, rocky point on Google maps upon which to “ply my trade” and hoped for good weather. I had only one day to get my “fish on” and I needed all the stars to align.

The plan came together. The sun rose on a glorious Florida spring day so off I went in pursuit of fish. A stop for gas and ice, another for a license, another for a sub sandwich, two more stops for directions, and I was on my way. (At what point does a fisherman ever learn that the cost of these adventures really makes no sense?) But, if I hear, one more time, “Dear, why don’t you just take all the money you waste on fishing and go buy fresh fish at the store or, even better, why not just pay off the house?” Women will never understand the deepest needs of the male soul. Fishing is to us is like what the aroma of candles at Bed, Bath, and Beyond is to them. To a real man, fishing is even more therapeutic than babies laughing on Facebook.

Upon arrival at the Florida coastline, I discovered there was no easy access to my chosen rocky point. Public parking was a nightmare with the closest access nearly one-half mile away. There was no way to drive my “Chevy to the jetty”. But it didn’t matter. I was invested – way too invested. All anglers are afflicted with a blind passion that overrules our common sense. I was determined to get where I was going, so packed down with gear like a burdened mule, I began the long hike to the fishing hole.

Me and my flip-flops, and what seemed like a 1000 lbs. of gear, arrived ever so slowly at the rocky point. Then, even more slowly, I began my laborious journey over huge boulders and sharp rocks. At each step I wondered if my wife would ever find me if I slipped and disappeared suddenly in some dark crevasse and the ocean swallowed me up at high tide. “Preacher eaten by crabs” is probably a subject for another blog.

Down deep in my heart, I just knew my wife would come looking for me. After all, she knows I’m doing all this for her. I just want to put food on her table. I do think she knows, down deep in her heart, that all these years of fishing are really just my little acts of sacrifice . . . for her. I just knew she would come looking for me, because the car keys were in my pocket.

Finally, I got to my spot and started catching fish! Nice fish! No sooner than I started enjoying the success of fishing, three college boys showed up with poles in hand. Silently, they appeared. Prancing nimbly across the crags and boulders like so many tattooed, barefooted, mountain goats in swimming trunks. At first, I paid no attention to them. They were perfect strangers to me and like passing shadows, I just wanted them to pass on, but on they stayed… behind my back, almost lurking, curious. Then without invitation, they started fishing in my ocean! Unthinkable! If there’s one thing a real fisherman hates it is curious people crowding him and fishing his water. It can lead to “ocean rage”. We need our space. Soon, the boys were fishing on both sides of me and I do not know if it was just because I was blest or lucky but I kept catching fish and they did not. Fishing can be funny like that. Maybe they’ll move on, I thought. No. Instead, needless annoying questions started as they got closer and closer to me and my fish,

“So, what you fishing for?” They asked.

“Oh, you know, any ol’ fish, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Isn’t that required reading at Florida State?”

Undaunted, they said, “Yeah, and what are you using for bait?”

I replied, “Shrimp, but I’m from out of town and I’m kind of just guessing here.”

“Looks like you’re doing really well. How many d’ you catch already?”

“Oh, just a couple three.” (none of their business, I thought, you guys are crowding me, I thought, you have hundreds of miles of ocean to fish so why are you at my elbows, I thought).

Then came the worst question ever, “Where exactly are you catching those fish?”

I was exasperated! Enough already!

Did these boys have no fishing etiquette? No couth at all? You never ask about the exact location of the fish others are catching! Didn’t they know, I had come from Georgia to Florida, walked across burning sand, up and down hazardous rocks to find MY FISH?

“Right in the lip, is where I am catching them, right in the lip.”

No laughter at the old tired joke, “No, really, where are you catching them”? They insisted.

“Right out there!”

I pointed right at the water in front of me and realized they were not going to stop asking questions until they were actually fishing in my ocean…at my spot…for my fish. Sure enough, one of the boys launched his line out in front of me caught a nice fish, even bigger than all of mine. He rejoiced. I forced a feeble congratulatory smile as I looked at what I thought was my fish on his line.

“Fish stealer!” I thought.

Then he looked at me with a big smile, “Sir, you want it? I don’t have a cooler and you can have it if you want! “You’re a great guy, and I don’t care who knows it!” I stammered the words in disbelief at his generosity.

All of a sudden, this intruder went from fiend to friend when I realized that he was really working for me and not against me. He cared about my success all along. He came close to me to be a help. He asked questions that led to a full cooler of fish.

Spiritual gifts are not given for our personal pride or glory; they are given for the greatest effectiveness and efficiency of the church body. Their use is not self-seeking or independent of others. They never engender competition. They exist for the growing up or perfecting of believers. They demand alertness to ministry. They insist that we cooperate with one another and ask essential questions like, “How can I help you?” and “How can we help each other reach God’s greater goals for the church?” It’s why the gifts are given. Paul says in I Corinthians 12:7, “But the manifestation of the Spirit (gifts) is given to every man to profit withal, or for the profit of all”. No such thing as your gift – my gift. Our gifts are all given to us for the sake of building up others. Ministry is the key in God’s divine endowments.

Thinking back, I’m glad the college boys didn’t come by and just say, “Good job, old man!” We are just here to watch you fish. I’m glad, now, that they asked, “And where, exactly, are the fish biting? Can we help you catch them?”

The long road back to my van was much lighter with a cooler full of “our fish”.

Blessings,