FATC Days of Christmas (Day 3)…Wading by Faith

FATC Days of Christmas (Day 3)…Wading by Faith

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. (No…it’s not new waders, but today it’s about wading.)

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)

Wading by Faith

Long before graphite rods and breathable waders, there was a man named Abraham. No fly box. No drift boat. Just a call from God, a promise, and enough faith to pack up everything and start walking.

Genesis 12:1 records the moment: “The Lord had said to Abram, ‘Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.’”

Notice what God didn’t give Abraham: a map, a timeline, or even the name of the destination. Just “Go… to the land I will show you.”

Now, if that’s not the spiritual equivalent of blind casting into a new stretch of river, I don’t know what is.

We fly fishers can relate. How many times have we stepped into unfamiliar water, unsure of what lies beneath? Maybe we read the current right, maybe we don’t. Maybe that first cast lands soft and sweet —or maybe it slaps the surface like a belly flop at church camp. But we go anyway.

Because that’s what faith looks like: stepping out, even when the path (or the pool) isn’t fully clear.

Abraham’s story reminds us that faith is rarely comfortable. He left his home, wandered through deserts, endured droughts, battles, and family drama of biblical proportions. And yet, through it all, he kept casting forward. Not because he could see where he was going, but because he trusted the One who called him.

Fly fishing teaches us something similar. You can’t always see the fish. You don’t always know what they’re eating. Sometimes the hatch is invisible, the water murky, and the wind completely against you. But you keep casting. You adjust. You believe that somewhere out there, something is waiting for your offering.

And then… came the waiting.

God promised Abraham a son. Not just any son —a son who would be the start of a great nation. But the years passed. And passed. And passed. The waters grew still. The sky silent.

Sometimes the longest stretch of the river is the one between the promise and the fulfillment.

And yet –Abraham waited. Not perfectly, but faithfully. Even when he and Sarah tried to take things into their own hands. Even when the laughter in their tent was the bitter kind. Even when Sarah’s womb remained empty and the dream looked dead.

But God —faithful as always— fulfilled His word.

“Is anything too hard for the Lord?” (Genesis 18:14)

At last, Isaac was born. Laughter replaced sorrow. The promise was cradled in their arms.

But even then, the testing wasn’t over.

God asked Abraham to lay the promise down.

“Take your son, your only son, whom you love —Isaac— and go… sacrifice him.” (Genesis 22:2)

Abraham obeyed. Step by trembling step, he climbed that mountain, trusting —not that God would stop him— but that God could raise the dead if needed. That’s next-level trust.

And just as he lifted the knife, God intervened. “Do not lay a hand on the boy…” (v.12)

A ram for the sacrifice was caught in the thicket. Provision. Rescue. Redemption.

Fly fishing has its own version of this moment. The times when we give everything we’ve got — every cast, every adjustment, every ounce of patience and still come up empty. And then, right when we’re ready to reel in and quit… the river gives. Not because we earned it. But because we were faithful.

Romans 4:20-21 says: “Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God… being fully persuaded that God had power to do what He had promised.”

That’s the kind of confidence we all long for –not just on the river, but in life. When we can’t see the end. When the skies are quiet. When nothing makes sense, and the promise seems far away.

Abraham teaches us that faith isn’t about having all the answers.

It’s about trusting the One who knows the river’s course, even when it winds through canyons you didn’t expect.

So, keep walking.

Keep casting.

Keep trusting.

Because we don’t walk by sight. We walk by faith.

And out here on the water —or out there on the road to promise— sometimes that’s all you need.