Take Your Kids Fishing

Marissa, my middle daughter, snapped this photo last night at the Burbank Media Center. We were there with the evangelism team from Calvary Bible Church. David (the leader of the team) and Aaron preached, while the rest of the team distributed gospel tracts and engaged people in conversation.

It was the first time I had taken the cross to Burbank. Marissa distributed tracts while I stood quietly with the cross. Before long, I was surrounded by a group of teenagers. They all had one question on their minds. "Ready for what?" The Lord blessed me with the opportunity to share the Law and the Gospel with more than one group of young people last night.

While it was a blessing to share the gospel with people, I was blessed in another way last night. I got to spend time with my daughter. We joked and laughed. We talked about important things and things that didn't matter at all. In the midst of the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in Burbank, we had quiet time together--just the two of us. As I stood with my cross, with my daughter by my side--occasionally putting her head on my shoulder or putting her arm around me--I hearkened back to my teenage years.

I wasn't a follower of Christ at the time. No one in my family was. Life wasn't easy in my home. My parents had been divorced for several years. My dad was unemployed and struggling to find his way. And I had reached the age that most young people reach during their teenage years--the age of superior intelligence.

Up until the time I was about fifteen years old, I saw my dad as the smartest man on the planet. It seemed he knew something about everything. I could ask him any question and he either had the answer or he would help me find it. I believed what he said and I trusted his counsel.

But something happened. When I turned fifteen, I suddenly became the smartest man on the planet (so I thought); and my dad was not. In fact, I began to think my dad didn't know anything--that he had lost his mind.

In reality, I was the one who lost his mind, so to speak. I was convinced I was much smarter and much wiser than I really was. It took several years, through more error than trial, to realize my dad was still a very wise man. I was the one who had acted stupidly.

During that very difficult and formative time in my life, my dad and I didn't communicate very well. It was as if we were speaking entirely different languages. But by God's grace (a grace neither of us knew existed), there was one place where we could talk--the lake.

My dad and I had taken up fishing. At first, we didn't have a clue as to what we were doing. Oh, the stories I could tell of some of the ingenious yet hilarious ways we tried to lure fish to our hooks. Over time, with the help of a few avid fishermen who saw a man and his son struggle to develop a love for a new hobby, we started catching fish.

There were days when my dad and I would go fishing early in the morning and return to the lake later in the evening. There were days when, for various reasons, I couldn't drag myself to school; so my dad and I went to the lake. And it was during those quiet mornings, afternoons, and evenings at the water's edge where my dad and I had some of our best conversations. When we couldn't seem to have a reasonable conversation at home, we were able to understand each other at the lake. It was while we sat there on the sandy shore, with our lines in the water, I began to once again realize how smart my dad was.

My dad died about ten years ago. And there have been many times, even recently, when I have wished I could be with him on the lake. I miss him.

I don't fish much these days--at least not for the scaly ones. Life has changed. Priorities have changed. But I still go fishing almost every day of my life--fishing for men. And for those of you who may not understand what that means, I'm referring to biblical evangelism. Jesus told His disciples that if they followed Him He would make them fishers of men.

Taking out the cross is not unlike sitting at the shoreline of a lake, with a fishing line in the water, waiting for the next bite. There were many days at the lake when my dad and I wouldn't get so much as a nibble. That's why it's called "fishing" and not "catching." Then there were other days when it seemed as though the fish couldn't wait to be caught. Either way, it was never boring because my dad and I had each other to talk to.

I absolutely love it when my daughters go "fishing" with me. Whether we're distributing tracts, or engaging people in conversation, or standing quietly on a street corner with the cross; we're together. Two of my daughters have reached adulthood. Amanda, my youngest, is not far behind. There are times when it seems like we're speaking different languages. They don't understand me and I don't understand them. Yet when we're out on the streets together, as was the case last night with Marissa, those language barriers seem to melt away. We are able to communicate with each other--listen to each other. And the fellowship between daddy and his daughter is oh-so-sweet.

Why do I share this with you? Simple. If you are a parent and you are engaged in biblical evangelism, take your kids fishing. Of course, modeling biblical evangelism is the very best way to raise future evangelists. But don't make that the only reason to take them fishing. Make it a time of sweet fellowship and conversation. Talk to them. Encourage them. Listen to them. Counsel them. Enjoy them. Love them.

Long before my dad passed away, our fishing trips became less frequent. Life happens. Life changes. The same will happen to you and your children as they grow older. The "fishing" trips will likely become less frequent. So, seize every opportunity now, before those major life changes happen, to take your kids fishing. You will be used by God to raise the next generation of evangelists, and you will create wonderful memories of love and fellowship that will last a lifetime.

Just some unsolicited advice.....from a fisherman.