Gone Fishing by John Monday

At the age of nine or ten, I became aware of government and law . . . and was terrified. I saw a copy of the Florida statutes and learned that these were the laws that governed people living in our state, and there were far more laws than I could ever hope to know. As I tried to comprehend the enormity of the law, I discovered that was only the beginning.

The county and city where we lived had similar volumes, not to mention the laws dictated by the federal government. How could I ever do this? I couldn’t possibly even know all these laws, let alone keep them!

Then things got even worse, I learned that literally thousands of legislators and law makers at every level create hundreds or even thousands of new laws every year. I reconciled myself to the fact that I would spend my adult years in prison, not because I was particularly bad, but because I’d never be able to satisfy the requirements of my city, county, state or country.

One day (I think Dad and I were fishing), I voiced my concerns and asked, “How can I do it? It’s impossible!”

I really thought he would share with me the secret to civil obedience. After all, the world is filled with people who aren’t in jail. There must be a catch, a trick.

But Dad said there was no catch, no trick, and that I had no hope of ever keeping all those laws. He told me I was, in fact, probably breaking some of those laws at that very moment (maybe he knew something about our fishing adventure that I didn’t).

“So what do I do?” I asked. That was when Dad shared the secret he said he didn’t have. He may, or may not, have known he was teaching me the Bible, but he was.

He said, “Don’t worry about the law, just do what you know is right (See Micah 6:8). If you do what’s right you don’t have to worry about breaking the law (See Gal 5:16-23).”

I found comfort in those words, and can honestly say that since then I’ve never worried too much about breaking the law, in fact I’m probably breaking some right now. The greater comfort, however, was in the rest of his explanation. Dad said I didn’t have to worry about the law, because I was with him, and I was his son (See Romans 5:8-11: John 3:16).

That’s where I found real relief, believing Dad would protect me from everything and everyone, even myself.

This same attitude permeated my world. I was taught right from wrong, encouraged to do what’s right, and was given all the tools to be a productive part of society. It was my obligation to meet all those responsibilities, unless I was with Dad.

When I was with him, none of the weight of life’s responsibility rested on me. Success or failure didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was his son, and he was my Dad. He would take the heat, and he would pay the bill. Until the day he died, being with Dad meant being free.

I hope my kids, one day, find a Dad like mine . . . and I hope you do too.

John Monday