Once upon a sacred Sabbath, Pastor Righteous, elder of the flock, preacher of truth and champion of potluck prayers, stood before his congregation with solemn eyes and a heavy heart.
Beloved saints, I have been summoned to preach at a sister congregation next Sabbath. Pray for me as I go to labour for souls.
The church received the announcement with appropriate holiness. One sister adjusted her prayer shawl. Another whispered that the pastor had been carrying a special burden lately. Nobody knew the burden was a fishing rod hidden beside the spare wheel.
The Other Appointment
The next Sabbath, Pastor Righteous dressed exactly as a man travelling to a pulpit should dress. He also packed his waders, checked the bait and drove towards the dam with the cautious happiness of someone who had confused secrecy with wisdom.
His guardian angel observed the route and went directly to heaven with a complaint.
Your servant has exchanged the pulpit for a pontoon.
The answer was calm: watch.
The pastor cast his line. Almost immediately, the largest tilapia of his fishing life took the bait. It was magnificent, the kind of fish that could feed a fellowship lunch and still leave something for the youth meeting.
Pastor Righteous held it up and called it divine favour. He took photographs. He rehearsed a testimony. For a few minutes, the lie felt fully endorsed by heaven.
The Problem with a Miracle
As sunset approached, triumph developed an administrative problem. He had told his wife he was preaching. A fish this large could not be smuggled into the house as a small personal blessing.
He considered throwing it back. The fish floated near the surface, looking like evidence with gills.
That evening he arrived home smelling of dam water and complicated theology. His wife asked how the sermon had gone.
Powerful, he said. There was weeping.
Then she noticed the fish.
A gift from the congregation, he explained. A thank-you offering.
His wife looked at the fish, then at the preacher.
Interesting. Someone from that congregation called. Their service was cancelled.
The silence that followed could have parted a sea.
The Tilapia Testimony
The fish fed the family, but Pastor Righteous could not enjoy it. Each bite tasted of judgement, regret and a light seasoning of tilapia shame.
After that, whenever anybody mentioned the Sabbath he had supposedly preached away, the pastor nodded slowly and changed the subject.
You can hide the rod, invent the sermon and photograph the evidence. The problem is that eventually the fish must come home.