FATC Days of Christmas (Day 8)… Wading into the Waters of Fulfillment

FATC Days of Christmas (Day 8)… Wading into the Waters of Fulfillment 

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)

Wading into the Waters of Fulfillment

Long before shepherds watched their flocks by night, long before Mary’s womb held glory, long before a manger became a throne —the promise was flowing.

Prophets had whispered it. Poets had sung of it. Priests had longed for it. The Messiah would come. And like a river hidden beneath the snowpack, the current of God’s redemptive plan ran quietly beneath centuries of silence and struggle.

Then —one night —it surfaced.

A baby’s cry.

A star.

A carpenter holding the salvation of the world in his calloused hands.

But let’s not forget: this moment, tender and holy, was not random. It was foretold.

“Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call Him Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)

“But you, Bethlehem… out of you will come for Me one who will be ruler over Israel…” (Micah 5:2)

Every detail was already cast into Scripture, like a line set upstream, waiting to drift perfectly into place.

And when it did?

The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. (John 1:14)

He didn’t arrive on a throne but in a stable. Not in robes, but in swaddling cloth. Not with trumpets, but with the quiet worship of animals, stars, and a few wide-eyed shepherds who just happened to be watching their flock when heaven opened.

That’s the thing about God’s plan: it doesn’t always arrive the way we expect.

Sometimes grace shows up in disguise. Sometimes the fulfillment of prophecy sounds more like the cry of a newborn than the roar of a king.

But make no mistake —it was the moment all of history had been waiting for.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given… and He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6)

The river of prophecy met the spring of salvation. The drift of promises made found their perfect strike in Jesus.

It wasn’t just a birth —it was an invasion of grace. The Light of the world entering the darkness not to condemn it… but to save it.

Matthew roots it in fulfillment: “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet…” (Matthew 1:22)

Luke sings it through Mary’s wonder and heaven’s rejoicing.

John opens with cosmic poetry: “In the beginning was the Word…”

And here’s what’s breathtaking:

This child —the One foretold —grew up to call fishermen.

He walked along shorelines and said, “Follow Me.” He taught in boats. He calmed seas. He cast the greatest net of all —the net of mercy that drew the world back to God.

It started in a manger.

It started with a fulfilled promise.

And it ends —no, it continues —with you and me.

Fly fishers know what it’s like to wait for the perfect drift. To study the current. To hold your breath in hope. The Old Testament is full of that kind of expectation. And then, in the fullness of time… the promise landed.

So now we wade into the New Testament not as observers, but as invited guests. As part of the same story.

God’s promise still flows. His Word still holds. And His mercy —now wrapped in flesh —still calls us to the water.