FATC Days of Christmas (Day 11)…More Than Enough

FATC Days of Christmas (Day 11)… More Than Enough 

Remember…Our FATC motto —It’s not just about the fly fishing. Well, Christmas is one day away 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)

More Than Enough

Some of Jesus’s greatest miracles didn’t take place in temples or cities—they happened outdoors. On hillsides. Along shorelines. Near rivers and lakes.

And one of the most breathtaking moments of grace came beside the Sea of Galilee, with nothing more than five loves, two fish, and thousands of hungry people.

It began with a crowd.

They had followed Him, walking for miles to hear His words, to see the power of heaven break through into dusty, everyday life. They brought their pain. Their sickness. Their longing. Their children. And now… their hunger.

The disciples looked at the crowd—five thousand people. It didn’t add up.

“Send them away,” they said. “There’s not enough.”

But Jesus didn’t see scarcity.

He saw opportunity.

He asked a simple question:

“What do you have?”

Not: What are you missing?

Not: What could you buy?

Not: What’s impossible here?

Just: “What do you have?”

“Five loaves and two fish,” they answered. Barely a snack. Not even close to enough. But Jesus took it, blessed it, broke it, and multiplied it.

And everyone ate.

Not a bite. Not a nibble. The Bible says: “They all ate and were satisfied.” (Matthew 14:20)

And when it was over, they picked up twelve baskets of leftovers.

That’s the part that always gets me.

Not only did He meet the need—He overflowed it.

Because that’s what Jesus does.

The River Connection

Fly fishing will teach you something about this kind of provision.

You don’t always see the fish. You might only have a handful of flies left. The hatch seems off, the water’s high, the wind is wrong.

But you cast anyway.

You offer what you have. A single fly. A hopeful drift.

And then the river gives.

Not always in the way you expect, but often more than you thought possible.

Because the river doesn’t ask what you don’t have—it meets you where you are.

Just like Jesus.

He didn’t need a banquet. He needed a willing heart and a simple offering.

And if we’re honest, isn’t that most of life? We show up with tired hands and small faith, and Jesus says, “That’s enough. Watch what I can do.”

Lessons from the Lakeside

Start with what you have. The miracle began not in the hands of the crowd, but in the hands of a boy willing to share his lunch.

Don’t measure grace by what you see. The disciples saw lack. Jesus saw limitless supply.

Let God bless the small. Five loaves. Two fish. One cast. One prayer. One step of obedience. He takes our “not enough” and makes it more than enough.

Fish and the Father

It’s no accident that Jesus used fish to feed the people that day. It was a language they understood—especially His disciples, many of whom had once made their living from the sea.

He was telling them: “This isn’t just about food. It’s about trust. it’s about the Kingdom. It’s about abundance—not just for your stomach, but for your soul.”

Every time we cast a line; we’re reenacting that miracle in our own way.

We offer something small. We wait with hope. And sometimes—when grace drifts through the current just right—we see God multiply it.

Not because we earned it. But because He’s good.

Still today, Jesus feeds hungry hearts beside water.

Still today, He takes small offerings and makes them sacred.

Still today, He is more than enough.

A Role Reversed: Joy on the Tal

There are days in Alaska you never forget.

Some because they humble you.

Some because they test every nerve in your body.

And then there are days—like this one—where grace flows like the current and joy breaks over you like the rise of a rainbow trout in still water.

What makes this day even more remarkable is that it came on July 4, just two days after one of the most intense moments of my life: the grizzly bear attack, in the same exact spot where we first spotted those bears.

We were still guiding the brothers from Fort Collins, both dentists, both full of humor and humility. The silver salmon had just started arriving. After their long 80-mile journey from Cook Inlet, they now staged in this very run, resting in the clear waters of the Talachulitna River.

The fish were bright. Strong. Still ocean-chrome, pulsing with power and purpose.

And the brothers?

They were hooking up cast after cast.

Every drift brought another take, another rod bend, another flash of silver. Mike and I were doing our job—netting, coaching, untangling lines—but mostly, we were just grinning. The joy was undeniable. The kind of day guides dream about, and clients never forget.

And then, just as the sun glistened over the spruces and the run seemed to glow with that early afternoon light, the brothers stopped. They set their rods down.

“This is the most incredible day of fishing we’ve ever experienced,” one of them said. “And now, we want you two to experience it too.”

Mike and I stared at them.

“We’re not fishing another cast,” the other said. “You’ve guided us through something we’ll talk about the rest of our lives. Now let us be your guides.”

And with that—they sat down on the gravel bar.

Handed us their rods.

And became our net men, our cheerleaders, our backup crew.

It was a moment of pure, unselfish giving.

So, Mike and I stepped into the current, this time not as guides, but as fly fishers being gifted something rare. Our casts sliced through the early afternoon air. The silvers were still there, just as aggressive. Line peeled. Reels sang. Our arms fought the weight and wildness of these magnificent fish.

And all the while—laughter filled the river.

There was joy.

There was gratitude.

There was something that can only be described as holy.

Because the truth is, that moment wasn’t just about salmon.

It was about sharing.

Back to the Shoreline of Galilee

It brought me back to another moment by the water.

Another group of men. Another crowd. Another fish story.

But this time—Jesus.

Five thousand hungry people gathered on a hillside.

Not enough food.

Just five loaves. Two fish.

He didn’t send any of them away.

He blessed, He broke, and He shared.

And suddenly, there was more than enough.

That’s what happened on the Tal that day. Not just physically—but spiritually.

Those brothers gave up their rods so we could feel what they had felt. They didn’t keep the experience to themselves. They passed it on, and by doing so, they multiplied the joy.

They became part of the miracle.

Because the Kingdom of God often looks like this:

A shared meal on a hillside.

A rod handed over in humility and joy.

A guide being guided.

A river running full of mercy.

Jesus didn’t just feed the crowd. He taught them what it loo like to live open-handed. To give. To invite. To make space.

And those brothers?

That day—they gave like Jesus.