The Far Bankනියැදිය

Average at Everything

I’m an average fisherman.

I was forced to that conclusion after a couple of days fishing in Missouri. The trip combined my two favorite types of angling—slinging Texas rigs and spinners for bass, and fly fishing for trout. On day one, my cousin zipped me around Table Rock Lake in his tournament bass boat. Sixty-five miles an hour on water feels faster than a hundred on a motorcycle—and you’d better keep your mouth shut unless you enjoy bugs in your teeth.

Watching my cousin fish was like watching a conductor lead an orchestra. Every cast was precise. He had multiple rigs prepped and neatly stored. I had two dusty rods from my garage. We both caught fish, but he outfished me by a mile. He even steered the boat so I’d have the best shot.

The next day, I met my friend Steve, a true trout bum, at Roaring River. Steve doesn’t teach, but if you watch him long enough, you learn. His dry fly would hover midair, then kiss the water’s surface better than the real blue-winged olives. My fly slapped the water or landed in knots of tippet.

Back in my twenties, I’d have stayed quiet, worked harder, and made it my mission to outdo them next time. But in my fifties, I’m okay with being average. I actually enjoy fishing with people better than me. I’ve learned to celebrate their skills—and stop measuring mine.

What’s changed?

I’ve come to believe my accomplishments don’t define me. Christ does. The perfection of His life and His work on the cross are now mine. As Paul writes, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21).

That’s our union with Christ—and it changes everything.

In 2005, while preaching through 1 and 2 Corinthians, I realized I was still trying to prove my worth through performance. I was exhausted. But through Scripture, the Spirit showed me my true identity: I am in Christ. He is my standing, my worth, my accomplishment.

Friend, if you’re tired of measuring yourself by what you do, pray this with me: “Jesus, help me rest in who I am in You—whether I succeed or fail. Let Your easy yoke and light burden become my reality.”

You don’t need to be remarkable. You just need to be His.

Reflective Prayer: Jesus, thank You for not asking me to be impressive—just present. Help me find rest in You when I feel like I’m falling short. Teach me to see myself and others through Your eyes, and to trust that being Yours is enough. Amen.