While living in the Florida Keys I would occasionally go fishing alone and my wife nagged me incessantly about it. She worried that I would have an accident, fall overboard, and other “silly” notions. I was cavalier about it and did not share her concerns in the least, but rather than start World War Three I would generally politely smile and feign interest and even accommodate her request whenever possible.
The problem was that it was not always possible. One day I had a hankering for some fresh grouper. It was late in the afternoon and I noticed my boat invitingly sitting out at the end of the dock. I decided to go catch a fat one for supper and since dusk was approaching there wasn’t any time to ask someone to go with me. You guessed it; I just loaded up my stuff and headed for the reef alone.
I stopped at a grassy patch and caught a few pin fish for bait and then went out to about 80 feet of water to one of my favorite holes. I baited up one of the pin fish and dropped it to the bottom in a big rock pile and almost immediately I hooked up with what felt like the monster grouper of all time.
I battled the big fish all around the back of my small boat and I narrowly avoided getting my line wrapped around the outboard motor. I used the automatic tilt feature to raise the motor up and out of the water in order to avoid the big fish from wrapping up in it, but in the process the line got hung on the toe plate just above the propeller out towards the very outermost point of the motor.
I feared that the mono-filament line would break as the big fish stripped it out and it rubbed against the metal plate, so I crawled out and put both my knees on the back of the transom and with one hand holding the rod and reel with the big fish on it, I leaned far out to try and reach the line with my other hand. I was in a most awkward position, delicately balanced, and leaning out as far as I possibly could. I finally reached the line with the very tip of my fingers and flipped it off the toe plate to free it, but just then the big fish lunged and my rod tip bent down and the sudden downward motion caused me to lose my balance and I went head-first over the transom and into the water.
Somehow I missed hitting the motor or boat with my head and came to the surface sputtering and spitting sea water out of mouth. Just then I happened to notice my rod tip just as it was heading down below the surface. Fast as lightening I grabbed and secured it and scrambled back into the boat. I continued fighting the fish and gradually fought it all of the way up to the surface where I could view it. I did not have a monster grouper, no I had hooked a big nasty looking shark nearly seven feet long.
Hmmm… I wondered how many other sharks were circling in a feeding frenzy just below the surface attracted to the fighting fish and me thrashing and splashing around.
I cut the line and let the shark go in peace. It was approaching dark and for some reason I was no longer in the mood for a grouper dinner and I decided to leave, but now I faced a dilemma. I did not want my wife to know what’d happened and have to endure another lecture about the perils of fishing alone, but I was soaking wet from head to toe and she would surely want to know why.
Not to worry, I figured that if I stood to the side of my windshield where the wind could hit me on the ride back to shore that it should dry me sufficiently and my secret would be safe. I stood up and sure enough it dried my shirt and shorts for the ride back in to shore and the warm tropical air and wind did their job nicely.
My problem was that my clothes were dry, but my hair was still soaking wet and matted, (my hat had floated away when I went overboard). As I drove my boat into its slip, there was my wife standing ready to greet me .
“Great!”
She immediately noticed my wet hair and I was busted. I wasn’t going to lie about my little adventure and proceeded to sheepishly tell the entire sordid tale.
You guessed it; I immediately received the “danger of fishing alone” lecture and learned first hand that I could have bumped my head when I fell overboard, knocked myself out, drowned, and been eaten by sharks in a bloody feeding frenzy.
I did not enjoy the “Sermon by the Sea”.
I suppose we don’t get away with much of anything in this old world and there always comes time to “pay the piper”. There are many other clichés about situations like mine, “You can run, but you cannot hide”;”There are no free lunches”; or “Don’t play with fire or you will get burned”.
As I draw towards the end of my journey I’ve learned that I am by my very nature rebellious, and because of it I’m going to make mistakes in life. I’ve found that when I mess up that it’s best just to confront it head on. I generally grit my teeth, confess my folly, and go ahead and get it over with, and deal with the consequences however unpleasant they might be.
It is the same with confessing our sins to God, except He sees my follies and stupid mistakes “real time”. We don’t get away with anything with Him, so we shouldn’t even try. Admit you made a mistake, ask for His loving forgiveness, vow to do better with His capable help, (and mean it), and pray for His strength, to do so.
The Bible warns of the consequence of sin and tells us it is inescapable. But the good news is that the same holds true with the good things in life that we do. We reap what we sow in this world both good and bad…
The choice is ours and that my friends is the nature of having a free will.
Gal. 6:7
Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life.