Today in my quiet time I was reflecting on a recent time of worship at Nashota House with Upper Midwest Anglicans who are seeking the Lord about forming a diocese for Illinois, Wisconsin and Minnesota. During the recessional, we were singing “The Churches’ One Foundation” and really belting it out. It was beautiful and exciting and joyful. I asked the Lord if he had anything further for me in this memory. As I stood there with my arms outstretched to receive whatever the Lord offered me, he dropped a big fish into my arms.
“It’s a fish,” the Lord impressed on my mind.
I can see that, I thought, ruefully. (I should mention that this happened imaginatively, not literally.) I’m not sure what kind it is, but it’s huge and oily, head and tail in tact and fully cooked. Maybe it’s oil poached. You’d think it would be breaking my arms, but it’s not. What do you want me to do with this? I wondered. Feeding people was the obvious answer, but a fish? This fish would be a feast for all those gathered there with plenty leftover.
“Kind of like the loaves and fishes,” the Lord slid in.
Except this is one huge fish, not two wee little fush.
“Details,” with a cosmic head wag.
So I’m supposed to feed people. That’s not a surprise. Isn’t that a call to all of us? But why fish? The Lord reminds me of another story, where Jesus is teaching on prayer and tells us that when we ask for eggs and fish our heavenly Father will give them to us, not snakes and scorpions. Then comes a reminder of Hebrews 5–that to survive on spiritual milk is to remain immature. That solid food is needed to grow strong.
So the fish is for these people gathered together here, for those ready for solid food and there’s more than enough to go around.
The Lord remains enegmatic on this point, but I think I hear him chuckling.
I hope what I am offering you is solid food to you. If you have any further insight on why a giant fish has been dropped into my arms, I invite your comments.