Sometimes you wait, and nothing seems to come.
There is nothing but silence and monotony,
a falling flat of your expectations.
Seasons of silence, of emptiness, of dryness.
Your fingers grasp the rod, your eyes transfixed
on a single point.
The floating bob on the playful, reflective, illusive surface of water.
Trying to peer beyond, into its depths.
Will the Other Side give me a sign?
A little post-it, shout-out, perhaps?
Some sign of His existence?
A fresh revelation?
New manna, new direction, a quiet whisper, a gentle wind, a nudge, a burning bush?
Silence.
Your fingers ache for something more,
your heart yearns, desperately, for that One thing.
I signed up for more than this
Surely there must be more than this.
And something curious happens to you.
Your sensations get prickled, earnestly alert, awake.
Because you know something more is on its way.
You are sensitized to the smallest twitch of the bob.
Is that it?
Him?
Your eyes strain for the minutest of movements.
You wait.
And in the wait is the answer.
----*
After thirty minutes of waiting,
I caught the largest prawn we would ever catch that day,
not in the way I expected to--
but then again, just like God,
He doesn't always show up the way we expect him to.
God is not pigeon-holed.
I caught the prawn by its leg, a hook entangled by the spikes on its pincer legs.
But God is not 'caught'.
He is found.
He is revealed.
And he not only waits for us to wait on him,
He puts in our hearts the desire to go prawning,
He gives us the bait- of a humble and contrite heart, amazed by his sacrifice.
He gives us the rod and hook- the elements of heaven-reaching prayer, always interceeding on our behalf.
We just need to pick up the rod,
and go fish.
