Covenant Weekly - October 3, 2017
October 3, 2017
I sit by the water on a bench waiting. The sun gradually climbs into the sky bathing my seat and me in early morning late summer sun. I'm here hoping to catch something of God.
In short order I'm joined by another man hoping to catch something quite different. Standing about thirty feet away from me in his grey shorts and blue shirt he adopts a hasty rhythm of casting and reeling, casting and reeling.
I came to meet with God and find myself in a different rhythm - focus and distraction, focus and distraction.
Suddenly he gets a catch and reels it in - about two inches long. Violently he pulls it off the hook and casts it aside into the long grass under a nearby tree. It's left to waste and rot. He won't be satisfied unless he catches something substantial - something big enough to make his time here worth it.
I'm here for time with God and I see the danger. I come with hope - expectation even - that I'll get something substantial from him. But if I don't get something that I consider substantial, how will I respond? My connection with God can't be based on what I get. And certainly not based on getting what I want. If my starting point is a) that he loves me; and b) that he has my best interest at heart. I need to learn to be satisfied to just be with him and to receive whatever he offers me - perhaps nothing more than his presence.
Geese - a tandem pair - fly low, barely gliding above the subtle, but active waves. Quickly, and with their unmistakeable song, they appear and then are gone into the distance. For me, it's a glimpse of your creativity and beauty. It's a small catch. Don't let me throw away that gift under the waste tree.
With little notice - and after only a few minutes - the impatient fisherman walks away taking his gear with him. "Nothing!" he calls gruffly to his friend. His desires didn't come quickly so he's gone. Time wasted and he refuses to spend more.
Please God, give me the courage to waste time with you. Help me to find joy in it. If I catch nothing more than my breath, it is time well spent.