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Lessons from a Fly-Fishing Master

Meet Jim Kilburn, a master at the art of fly-fishing. God put this man in my path, literally. Driving down a Colorado gravel road, there is a man and a lady walking in my direction. I slow down my truck (probably speeding) and recognize who this couple is. It’s Jim, the fishing Guru and his wife June, right there in front of me.

I’ve heard about Jim. Several people in Westcliffe, Colorado, had told me about this man whose fishing knowledge was unsurpassed. This guy knows how to fish.

See, Jim is a master at fly-fishing. He has fished with guys that have written books about fly-fishing. Jim himself could write his own books, but I think he spent all his time fishing rather than writing about it. I must reach out to this gentleman.

What goes on inside my brain, I can’t explain. (Neither can my wife, Staci.) But in super important times for me, like the one happening now, my brain locks up. My hands are vise-gripping the steering wheel, my heart adds several beats, and my mouth suddenly goes dry.

When interacting with other humans, people use and expect a certain protocol. Start a friendly conversation with a warm hello. Share a bit of small talk with one another. Not me, not today.

The truck rolls to a stop next to Jim and his wife. Seeing this legend of a fly-fisherman before me, I hurriedly roll down the window. My conversation begins with, “Hey there, sir, can you teach me to fly fish?”

No protocol, no warm greeting, just a request from me asking a favor. Now I’m arguing with my own brain about the mishap in communications that I’ve just made.

I’m preparing to hear him say anything. Anything like, “Well, someday”, or “you’ll have to get back with me”. I’m even prepared to hear Jim say, “No, I don’t have time to teach someone like you.” But he says, “Sure, be glad to. I can go in the morning”. Now I’m nervous. The Master will instruct me in fishing techniques. The next morning, we arrived at a secluded mountain lake. Sage growing in the nearby field gives the morning crisp air a fresh scent. Does he teach me how to fish? Well…………. first he taught me some knot tying. I’ve tied knots all my life, but Jim had several knots he says are the best…. and they were. Despite my clumsiness, I felt the Master’s patience while he showed me, many times, how to tie knots. We tied flies to the leaders, which led to tying leaders to the fly line itself.

Does he show me how to fish? Well, now we study the “bugs” found beneath the submerged rocks. He shows me nymphs, and well, I don’t know the names of all the “bugs and worms and critters” that he is showing me. While their names elude me, I now know their appearance. My fly selection matches the lake’s natural inhabitants, and these will serve as bait. I’m fixing to catch fish!

But first… Jim shows me how to cast a fly rod. I’m in heaven! Jim is in his glory! I’m witnessing a man using his fishing rod as if directing a symphony. The rhythm of his cast, coupled with his smile, and line curving behind him, then powering forward to its target. I’m caught staring in amazement. Then Jim says, “Here, use my rod, now you try it”. Uh oh, uuhhhh, now it’s my time to mess things up.

I’m whipping the rod, popping the line, but hey, I’m casting. Jim, who understands and has a teaching heart, patiently guides me. It’s becoming obvious to me now that Jim has a love for fly-fishing. So much love that he will give of his time to be with me on this fishing adventure.

He has been standing far away, (so that he won’t get hit by the barbed hook while I’m casting), (or should I say whippin’, flapping’, jerkin’, popping his fly rod). He walks over and says the most unusual thing. “Listen to the rod. Hear the whoosh the line makes as it’s being cast.”

Well, knock me down with a feather (or an 8ft 6weight fly rod). I hear it! By hearing the “whoosh” sound, I’m able to get the “rhythm” of the cast. It’s almost magical the difference this has made for me. The transition from mechanical action to sensing the joy of watching the fly touch the water. In these brief moments I’m no longer a man holding a fishing pole. I’m a fly-fisherman showing confidence with each cast of the fly. I’m ready to catch fish. Bring it on! But wait…

Has Jim taught me how to fish as I asked of him? He instructed me on knot tying, insect identification, casting, water reading, wading, and fish stalking. Now he’s teaching me how to fight! This day had started with a terrible, hard-blowing wind. I expected the master to call off today’s fishing adventure because of the hard wind. Instead, he shows me how to fight… yes, to fight the wind. Wind may ruin a lot of fishing days for some folks, but not Jim. And now, not me. I’ve learned techniques to battle this foe.

Enjoying having learned so much more about fly-fishing has rewired my brain so that it’s now functioning on four of the six cylinders available. (That 5th or 6th cylinder is a rare occasion for me.)

On our spiritual journey, just like this fishing adventure, we must come to where we ask the Master for help. What we sometimes don’t realize is that our Master is helping us live this Christian walk. But it’s the small things that make the journey. God’s time with each of us is priceless.

Did Jim teach me how to fish? Has my Heavenly Father instructed me in Christian living?

I think in both instances the realization came to me. It wasn’t my learning that was important, but the spending of time with the Master…… Jim in my fishing adventure, and God in my Christian journey.

I’m sure that I should write more concerning this subject. But I’ve got fish to catch…… and a Christian journey waiting to be explored. Good luck. And fight that wind!!!!!

Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Matthew 6:33

See Ya! Dan Ainsworth wilderness preacher, apprentice fly-fisherman, apprentice Christian

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The Power of Heartfelt Worship: A Christmas Reflection

I have a confession to share. I heard someone sing a Christmas song over twenty years ago that changed forever how I hear someone sing. Confused? So was I.

Someone invited my family and me to this small country church. Christmas was just days away, so they decorated the small country sanctuary with poinsettias in every window. A tradition in many Baptist churches was about to unfold. This was a Sunday night sing. Everyone is encouraged to sing. It’s your chance to sing a solo, maybe join a quartet, or someone play an instrument. C’mon, one and all. Or maybe not.

This middle-aged man had already signed the official “Who’s singing tonight” list. I learned to say that he was slow. The term intellectually disabled is now used.

As we were being greeted by church members, a shall we say squabble was going on in the back of the church.

A prominent lady in the church was attempting to get this guy, we’ll call him Paul — not to sing. I’m shaking hands with folks, but my attention is on Paul and this lady; let’s call her Edith. Edith, Paul, and the sound man are having what I see is a one-sided conversation.

The sound man interrupts the greetings in this small church when he shouts, “he wants to sing, let him sing!”

All the church members and visitors alike heard and felt an awkward silence.

Edith sees that everyone is watching them. She quickly marches down the aisle, huffing and puffing, revealing she’s not getting her way.

The pastor greets everyone and invites us to join in the worship and celebration of Christmas. Holiday music has always been a favorite of mine. I grew up singing all the carols of Christmas. So, I was excited to be here and to join in the singing.

Several folks, young and old, took their turns singing for the crowd of maybe 40 people.

Even Edith! She had a reputation for being a talented singer. She proved that as she sang “O Holy Night” for her contribution to the night’s singing. That’s one of the hardest songs to sing!

Impressive is how I would describe her voice. Powerful, and technically correct in so many ways. However, its emptiness disturbed me. I’m here to worship, yet I’m feeling empty after hearing a beautifully sung song. What’s wrong? Is it me? How many times have you been in a church service to worship and it just ain’t happening?

Paul’s turn has now been called out from the list of singers. He has been sitting on the very back pew. It takes several moments for him to make his way to the front and grab the microphone. Whispers intermittently broke the silence. The whispers may as well have been shouts as it was obvious people were disapproving of Paul’s attempt at singing.

He announces his song for the night. It’s the “Little Drummer Boy”. Did I just hear a snicker from someone in the audience? I’m pretty sure it was Edith.

Paul has no accompaniment tape. He has no one playing the piano accompanying him. No one is encouraging him. There is no one supporting him. No one is helping this man. He has no one.

Whether it was from the uneasiness of the moment, or from just not knowing what to expect, not a sound was being made from the congregation.

Paul clears his throat. He sings with his head bowed low. I’ve got to tell you I was pulling for him, hoping he could at least make it through the song.

“Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum”. Paul is barely audible. I struggle to hear him.

“Baby Jesus, I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum.” OK good, he’s singing a little louder, and it’s on key enough that everyone, even Edith, should feel he did a good job.

What happened next is what I remember every Christmas season. Paul raised his head, looking towards the ceiling. Tears flow from and down this man’s face like I’ve never seen before. What’s striking is that Paul is singing as he is crying. What is a difficult task for vocalists, regardless of skill? Why, it’s singing during a cry.

As he’s looking up, he sings the words, “Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum.” The biggest smile came over this man’s face. Whatever he was experiencing was contagious because the biggest smile came over my……… soul.

I saw a humble man, with no help from anyone, give all that he had to his Jesus. And Jesus smiled at him.

There in that small country church I saw true worship. I heard someone sing to their God. It wasn’t showy, superficial Edith. It was Paul. Just Paul. He showed his love to God, and I got to see Paul’s response as he knew God was smiling back at him.

All these years later, I enjoy talented singers. It’s fun to hear exceptional singers use their voices. But I’m always on the hunt for singers who sing from the heart. They sing to their God. They live for their God. And He smiles at them. He smiles not because of what we have or don’t have. He smiles because he loves. God is Love. Paul knows that. Do You?

You and I have no gift worthy of giving to a King. Yet, all God wants is you and me, just as we are. In this hurry-up, hectic world during the Christmas season, we lose focus. Busyness causes anxiety. Stress causes us to lose sight and sound of the true Christmas story.

For God so loved the world, that He GAVE us His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:16.

Watching and listening to Paul those 20-plus years ago still motivates me to sing from the heart. More importantly, Paul gave me encouragement to LIVE from the heart. It’s not what you do, but who He is that causes God to love you.

Does God love me? You’d better believe it. He’s got my picture on His Heavenly refrigerator door!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Dan Ainsworth Wilderness Preacher

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Finding Comfort in Nature: God’s Messages Unveiled

As I walked deeper into the woods, only God was with me. Watching the leaves fall, one particular leaf caught my eye. It descended gently from the tree summits. Swaying back and forth, with a slow tumble, a dance was taking place that happens over and over. I actually got a picture as it is dancing to the ground.

What are you telling me, God? This is a question I ask constantly. I believe our Christian journey has many mysteries, don’t you? So, to help me focus on God and His plans for me, I try to live in curiosity, watching for the mysteries that He can help me solve.

By myself, I have trouble solving even the smallest of mysteries. Mysteries like crossword puzzles, the right amount of creamer in my wife’s coffee, what time the 5:00 news comes on.

I struggle with all the mysteries of life. I best understand a spiritual mystery by listening and watching, waiting for my Lord and Savior’s explanations. I need His help.

Hearing from God? I bet you are expecting me to say, read the Bible. Hmmm, appropriate answer, but that’s a great way to VERIFY a message from God. Pray? You undoubtedly get closer to God and His Will through prayer.

Being in nature is when I personally feel I “hear and see” God. Fly-fishing, elk hunting, hiking the mountains, walking in the park — these are all excuses to get me into the woods, into nature, where I can hear from God.

What are you showing me this time? Does God speak to me every time I take a walk? Do I catch a fish on every trip? Even though the answer is no, I still want to pay close attention to everything, so I can grasp whatever is being shown to me.

This one leaf landed on the path I hike on. Three days ago, the trees you see in the picture were still holding their leaves. A carpet of thick leaves now covers the woods’ floor. This leaf reminds me of a dear friend who is being buried today. I now think of someone who is changing careers. Now I have thoughts of my children having their own children. My thoughts focus on my life plus current shifts. There are always changes, good and bad.

My mind is full of too much thinking. It’s best for me to continue walking. The steady rhythm of my stride gives a calming effect. The smell of these leaves I’m strolling through, feeling this crisp autumn air, hearing the creatures of the forest (I hear geese!) are all making my senses come alive.

Being in nature clears my mind. My brain is jumbled with numerous thoughts, but they’re intentionally thinning out to a single question. God, what are you telling me?

Is God talking to me on this trip? He is. He says, “Keep walking, son. Lots of leaves to fall on this path. Lots of changes will always take place. You just keep walking; I’ll be there with you. That will never change.”

Comfort is what I felt on this hike. Not comfort that comes from a relaxing recliner chair. Not comfort from a fireplace. But comfort felt in my soul. How? I talked with a superior being! His words were “heard” by me on this hike! All the changes and shifts in my life, yet He said I’ll be there with you.

Regardless of your current shifts, here’s a poem for you. What I felt in the woods is summed up here.

“You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she has lived. You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all she’s left. Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her, or you can be full of the love you shared. You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday. You can remember her only in that she is gone, or you can cherish her memory and let it live on. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back. Or you can do what she’d want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.” David Harkin

I walk and hike on this spiritual journey with Jesus. I love and live by the following verse: John 14:6 (VOICE) Jesus: I am the path, the truth, and the energy of life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.

If you’re stuck behind a desk, you need to “take a hike” for better physical wellness. If you’re stuck in a rut spiritually, “take a hike” on the path called Jesus. Spiritual wellness is just as important.

I seem to get pulled into nature to hear from God. Where do you go to hear from your Heavenly Father?

See Ya! Dan Ainsworth wilderness preacher