A true story about life on the mission field that gently reminds us to be 'Fishers of Men.'
This morning I pulled a jacket out of my closet that I have not worn in several years. Once I was warmly wrapped inside, I noticed a slight bulge in the front pocket. I slipped my hand inside the pocket as my fingers toyed with something smooth and round. I twirled it over and over for a moment just to see if I could figure out what it was without looking. As my fingers rubbed across a small protruding extension, I thought, “Okay, that’s it, I’ll just have to pull you out and take a look.” Then as I gently pulled the object out of my pocket, I was amazed and almost excited to see the result. It was something that I’d managed to hold onto for about 5 years now. It was an almost forgotten token—a simple red and white fishing cork.
Yeah, yeah I know you’re thinking, “a fishing cork, so what?” But you see, this was no ordinary cork. It had a special purpose. Let me explain.
Once again, my mind went back to the day this object was given to me. One of the pastors that ventured down east to work alongside my husband and myself in disaster recovery had given me this token of remembrance. As he reached it out to me on that crisp, cool morning immediately following our devotion, he said, “Frances, this cork is to remind you to always be fishers of men.”
I was simply delighted with his gift since I have a tendency to cherish visuals like this that serve to remind us of Jesus—the author and finisher of our faith and the one and only God we serve.
I realized that this was another one of those God moments when a small token on this side of eternity jumps out at just the right time to stir warm fuzzy memories.
While down east, I recall carrying the small bulge in my jeans pocket practically every day. I took it out each night and lay in on my small dresser top in our camper. I usually remembered to shove it back in my pocket each morning. This was a good reminder for me when oftentimes it seemed the journey was difficult and lonely, to remember why I was there. It was not about me or even for me but for the community. God had me there on a mission and my assignment was to impact other people for Him. In a true fisherman’s cove, deep in the sleepy fishing village of Atlantic, North Carolina, where everything hinged on ‘the catch of the day’, God called me, just as He has called many others, to become real authentic ‘fishers of men.’
As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. "Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." At once they left their nets and followed him.
Matthew 4:18-20
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