FATC Days of Christmas (Day 10)…Fishers of Men

FATC Days of Christmas (Day 10)…Fishers of Men

Remember…Our FATC motto —It’s not just about the fly fishing. Well, Christmas is approaching and I have a gift for my FATC brothers. Who knows…for some it may be just the gift they need, but didn’t realize it.

I’ve recently enjoyed reading Daniel Bryant’s book, GOD MUST BE A FLY FISHER, and I think many of you will enjoy it also. I’m reprinting a short chapter each day from now through New Year’s Day. This is not just a book about fly fishing. It’s a book about slowing down. It’s a book about seeing that every moment outdoors might be an invitation to come closer to the One who created it all.

(From God Must Be A Fly Fisher by author Daniel Bryant)

Fishers of Men

The first time Jesus called a disciple; He didn’t do it from a mountaintop.

He didn’t stand behind a pulpit.

He didn’t send a formal invitation.

He simply walked along the shore.

The Sea of Galilee lapped quietly at the feet of working men. Nets were being cleaned. Boats rocked in the shallows. The smell of sweat, fish, and morning hung in the air. It was just another day in a fisherman’s life.

And then Jesus came walking by.

“As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, He saw 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.’” (Matthew 4:18-19)

He didn’t say, “Go get cleaned up first.”

He didn’t say, “Go to synagogue, memorize more Scripture, or prove your worth.”

He said, “Follow Me.”

Right there. In their boots. With calloused hands and fish still flopping in the bottom of the boat.

And they did.

The Bible says “they immediately left their nets and followed Him.”

Can you imagine the weight of that moment? Everything they’d known —the security of routine, the rhythm of casting and hauling, the familiarity of the water— left behind for a Man whose only credential was His presence.

But something in His voice was different.

Something in His words told them: this is what you were made for.

Fly fishers understand that kind of calling. It starts with curiosity. It becomes a love for the rhythm, the feel, the pursuit. Then it becomes something deeper –almost spiritual. You stop chasing fish and start listening to the river. You don’t just learn the water… you begin to belong to it.

That’s what Jesus was doing on that shoreline.

He wasn’t just calling workers—He was inviting followers into a relationship. Into a new kind of pursuit. A new kind of water.

He saw what they were doing —fishing— and told them that He would repurpose their passion. He would take what they already knew —reading the water, casting the net, waiting with patience— and use it for the Kingdom.

“I will make you fishers of men.”

Not soldiers. Not CEOs. Fishers.

Jesus starts with what we know —and transforms it.

He later called James and John the same way —while they were mending nets with their father Zebedee. And just like Peter and Andrew, they left the boat behind.

No job description. No salary package. Just two words:

“Follow Me.”

And it didn’t stop at the lake.

Over the next few years, Jesus would walk through towns and over hills, healing the sick, forgiving the outcasts, calming storms, multiplying bread, and opening blind eyes. And every time He did, the disciples would look at one another and know —They had made the right decision.

Even when they didn’t fully understand who He was.

Even when He challenged them, confused them, or led them into storms…

They stayed close. Because there was life in His words.

And that’s still how it happens today.

He still walks the banks of our busy lives.

Still calls us from the middle of our work.

Still looks into our weary eyes and says,

“Follow Me.” Not because we’re good enough —but because He is.

And like those first fishermen, when you drop your net —your comfort, your expectations, your fear— and follow Him into deeper water, you’ll discover what you were always meant to do:

Not just catch fish. But bring souls to the shore of grace.