He had his own expectations.
He stood there in the setting sun, waiting for the perfect moment to toss out his net.
For most of the time, though, he just stood there, looking out into the water.
When he did cast his net and brought it ashore, he pulled out only a few small fish which fit into the bag he wore around his waist. Then he spent several minutes straightening and carefully folding the net to cast out again.
With all that effort for a few small fish, and with the sun quickly dropping behind the horizon, I didn’t understand his long moments of waiting.
I sat there waiting, too—with my camera ready for that perfect ‘photographic’ moment when his net was flung wide over the waves. Why didn’t he throw out the net more frequently so that he could have more chance of catching something?
I could tell from the intense way he looked into the water and slowly moved to the right or left that he could see something in the waves that I could not.
He had more at stake than the ‘perfect photo’, and was more patient than I at waiting for just the right moment.
I suppose the fisherman’s patience reminded me of God. How he takes a long time—by my measurement—to work out all the projects and plans he sets in motion. He waits for the perfect moment to capture us with his beauty, grace and glory. A net cast just right to bring us to our knees in worship.
God’s patience brings about the perfect ‘catch’, the perfect picture, the perfect moment every time.