July, 2025

I’m going fishing.

That’s what Peter said after Jesus died. This wasn’t just a quick little trip back to the sea, either. He wasn’t just going to spend an afternoon hanging out with the boys for old time’s sake. This was his giving up moment. His decision to forget the past three years of adventures and to go back to what he knew. It was a time to give up the hope of a wildly better tomorrow, and to return to the “reality” of the norm. It was time to quit dreaming. 

I came to deeply understand this verse in June. On several occasions, all I could do was mumble the words, “God, I’m going fishing.” And every single time, when that prayer would trickle out from what was left of my heart, God was quick to jump in, saying: 

Boy, the heck you are! You’re not giving up on me just yet! You’re going to get better! Your story isn’t over yet! 

I’ve always hated when people have said things like that without giving me a tangible story of how it happened, and I’m not going to commit yet another of my own sins, so let me tell you a few of my stories. 

The first one that comes to mind is about my job. I had a Tuesday where I got out of work at 10:00AM. A 5-hour shift. I hated having all the free time, and it brought me to one of those “gone fishing” moments. I literally said that to God, and I felt in my heart that it was true. I felt done. In the back of my mind, I knew I could get out of this mess. I knew it would be over one day. But a part of me asked, “why bother? I’ll just wind up back in one of these messes before you know it.” Life had been enough of a ride for long enough that this seemed to be right. 

I said that prayer when I stepped out of my warehouse building, and by the time I had taken the 20 steps to my car, my phone was ringing. It was an employer, reaching out about an application I had just put in days earlier. The offer wound up being a bad fit, but I didn’t care. It was enough to feel like I wasn’t forgotten. It was just what I needed to pull me out of the slump for the day. 

I had another “gone fishing” moment, on a Sunday evening. I was in pretty rough shape, beaten down by all the disappointments of life, and I sent up that same prayer. “God, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do another day of this crap. I need a miracle to be able to sleep tonight.” I was listening to music when I prayed that. Within minutes, my music app started glitching out. The recommendations list started sending me weird stuff. Normally, it sends me music that’s either in my genre, or by artists I have listened to before. Today, however, it sent me some weird ragtime song called, “tripping fat kids at the YMCA.” I immediately started hollering, confused at how ridiculous and strange my phone was being. I showed it to my roommate and we laughed for a solid 30 minutes. I still had to go take a drive to clear my head, but it was enough to stop my downward spiral. 

Enough. That’s the word that stands out to me. During those dark times, God doesn’t take away the darkness. He could. I wish He would. But He doesn’t. I used to think I had the answers for these types of things. “Oh, God is with us, so we have nothing to fear.” “It all works out for good in the end. It’s not all so bad.” I used to say stuff like this constantly. Now I hesitate when talking about it at all. I don’t know if I have an answer that’s good enough. I don’t know if I can redeem all the dark corners of the world through right answers and smart lines. I just don’t know if I can find the words to cut it anymore. 

Even now, I feel the impulse to fight back with some kind of punchy one-liner that makes it all better. I’m still alive, so not all is lost. I guess the only way to finish my tale is to tell the rest of Peter’s. He goes fishing and catches nothing all night. That must have sucked. His fallback plan is now failing him, on top of his grief over Jesus’ death. What a night! But that’s when Jesus shows up and pulls off the same miracle that He did the day they met. He tells the guys to throw their nets one last time, and they catch so many fish that they can barely haul them all in. Except this time, their nets don’t break. Man, that nostalgia must have been real! From there, Peter’s real journey really kicks off. That’s where his story truly gets started. 

I don’t know if my journey truly is about to get started, but I do know one thing: the moment you decide to go fishing–that moment where your heart truly faints, is the one where God shows up to write the really crazy stories. And while it’s awe-inspiring to be able to be a part of that kind of holy-madness, I can’t deny that it’s also taxing. It takes its toll, so much so that I have stopped to ask myself, “is it all truly worth it?” It’s hard to even admit that it’s what’s on my mind, because I feel like I’m being ungrateful for the story that God is wanting to write. But I feel it all the same. And if I don’t answer this question, it will probably spread and do more damage than it could have if I had simply answered it earlier on. 

Crazy part is that everything just suddenly ended one day. After a few “gone fishing” moments, things just suddenly got better. I actually felt like I was in the same moment Joseph found himself in, suddenly being pulled out of prison one day. I went into work one day, expecting to work five hours, only to be told that I would be doing 8! Then the next day, we bumped it up to 10! I have since been doing 10 hour days, five days a week, with no signs of slowing down. Life has still been a madhouse, but I make sure to remind people that I am definitely not complaining. Just wrestling with a new set of challenges. 

But it all leaves me with the question for God: if He was willing to let me fall all the way to the end of my rope, to let things get as bad as they did, how can I trust Him next time? Will things be as tough, if not worse, next time around? How can I get up and truly live again after such a draining experience? I know all the answers I’m supposed to spit out. I know all the lines and all the verses that band-aid up what I’m going through, but deep in my heart, they just don’t cut it. Life is better, and I have grown much, but it’s like I just went through surgery. And now, I need a recovery period. I’m just praying I get one. 

Until Next Time

May Peace be your Guide.