A little something extra
Sammy Law and his wife Jean lived out in the sticks not far from Coleraine here in Northern Ireland. He had seen combat close up in Korea and if it hadn’t been for some mates he would have got more than a bullet in his ankle. Jean was a hospitable soul and like so many other country women she could bake delicious bread. Smother it with butter as it came straight from the griddle or the hob and a king couldn’t eat better. It was Sammy who took me fishing for the very first time in my life.
I spent the night with them talking (as usual) late into the night. I had barely shut my eyes when Sammy shook me awake to go fishing. It was 4.30 in the morning. I didn’t know such an ungodly hour existed until that moment. It was bitter cold, wet, windy and dark as we headed to the river. As I shivered I wondered if I was right in the head but it was too late to debate the wisdom of the venture.
He put a worm on my hook, threw the line into the dark river and moved off into the shadows farther down. In the early morning quietness I could hear him humming to himself now and then and I could hear the swish of the line as he repeatedly cast it. He was loving it and I was miserable; and the worm on my line wasn’t even trying.
If I ever knew I don’t remember how long I stood there wishing that I were back in my bed or at least somewhere comfortable--then I felt it. A fish was nibbling on my worm and I felt it coming up through the line, into the rod, into my hands and from there down somewhere behind my bellybutton. Down there in the dark, beyond my vision, there was life tugging on my line. He ate up all my worm and then took off. The safest meal he ever had, no doubt. But he had made contact with me and that magic moment has stuck with me now for probably more than forty years. I reeled in the line just to make sure he had got away with it, hurried down to Sammy and had him put another worm on the hook and went back in search of more adventure.
I don’t remember anything more about that trip but with startling clarity I can recall how I felt before that fish mugged me for my worm and how I felt after he made his hit. Out of the darkness, when I least expected it, when I might have been tempted to think there was nothing out there, a gentle tugging on my line told me I was in touch with life—and misery became excitement. For those who’ve fished all their lives and have caught about eleven and a half million this story may be old hat but the experience was pure magic for me.
Now I know this doesn’t rank as an "argument" (theological or philosophical). And I know it will make no sense to those who can’t share faith in Christ with me but I think God watches us and knows that sometimes our poor little minds wander, our faith falters and the pressures of life weigh so heavily on us that we need something more.My sister Margaret put it like this and I know she’s right. "Sometimes we’re in special need of him. He knows this and he gives us ‘a little something extra’."
He gives a little tug on our line to let us know that we’re dealing with life when we’re dealing with him—that we aren’t just shivering alone in the dark. It might be a remarkable answer to prayer, an incredible "coincidence," a cheque in the post, a whispered apology that we were in crying need of or an experience so uplifting that we can’t do anything but look up and say thank you.
And for you that are burdened long, with pain you haven’t sought and who haven’t yet experienced that "little something extra"—continue to be brave and strong and live without it. Trust him still. And maybe when the ultimate day arrives, you who were gallant enough to live without the tug will receive a little something extra for being so brave. I believe that and I like to believe it.
[Extracted by permission from my little book Jesus, Hero of thy Soul, published by Howard Publishing Company, West Monroe, Louisiana, 1998]
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