Ah, it is nice to walk out the door in the morning and not feeling the steam bath that is the normal St. Louis morning.

Despite all the pumpkin spice everything that seems to pervade the fall season, I love fall. Not so much for the pumpkin spice chewing gum and coffee ruined with pumpkin whatever but more for the fact that the fishing gets better.

Wading into a clear, cold stream early in the morning with a fog hanging just above the surface of the water, feeling the current push against me, no one but the trees watching me clothed in wet, quiet leaves that are just beginning to put on their fall wardrobe, the air is fresh and brisk and clean as it fills my lungs, well, that’s pretty fantastical for my soul.

It is easier for me at this time of year. If I can’t go fishing, I can plan for the next fishing trip. I can’t just toss my responsibilities in the dumpster for the duration but those responsibilities and the drudgery of the daily routine are a lot easier when there is some fishing thrown in.

I don’t think everyone should love fishing like I do. I do think everyone should love doing something as much as I love going fishing.

If you turn your television on, there is someone on there telling you what NOT to love. In fact, there is so much of it that I sometimes feel no one is allowed to love anything.

There are even people out there trying to get fishing outlawed because they don’t like it that we catch fish.

I’ve even seen them throw rocks at the places guys are trying to fish. Now, if a fish hates being caught so bad that we should outlaw it, maybe we should jail those folks throwing rocks through the fish’s front window.

I suppose that when you hate something, you only hate to the degree that it personally affects you. That’s a convenient way to draw the line.

I used to think that was how it was with serving God, draw a line I don’t mind not crossing and then hate everyone and everything on the other side of that line.

That way, I can feel like I am grateful I am not over there in the bad place and rest comfortably in the good place throwing rocks and judging away to my heart’s content.

Imagine my amazement when the denial began to fall away and I saw that God’s line was not where my line was.

It was way back behind me. I was on the bad side of that line.

That was pretty scary. I mean, I had thought I was safely behind the line and suddenly I saw I was way, way far from the right side of the line.

And I had been just doing the whole couch potato thing vegging out on the wrong side of the line.

I was a hypocrite. OUCH!

But then, God had me look around. We were all on the wrong side of the line, every last living soul was nowhere near God’s line. There were a lot of folks that thought they were camped out safely on the right side but they line they were looking at was their own.

What does a person do now? Well, there were three kinds of folks, folks walking the wrong direction, folks walking toward the line and folks just sitting around doing nothing. Most of the folks were in that last group.

So, every day I get out of bed and kick sand over my line. I stop looking at that as a safe barrier between myself and the bad side and I begin marching toward God’s line.

I’ll reach it. It may take me till my last breath here on this earth to do it but I will make it.

But I don’t want to sit in false security watching when I should be walking.

3 thoughts on “The Line

  1. It seems to me we need to be taught to hate. I think the devil has done a good job in this area, especially in the good old USA. I don’t remember encountering so many angry people as I have lately. We can also be taught to love and Jesus is a great advocate for that. We may have to relearn the positive than dwelling on the negative.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Well, the canoe is on the pickup and I’m headed for the lake in the morning to fish, think and chat with the Lord. I must admit it’s not as fun when God draws his line on the water and says “Come”
    Good one Mike

    Liked by 1 person

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