A couple of weeks ago I waded into Idaho’s Salmon River to do a little trout fishing. I was told it was a well known spot and sure enough there were a couple groups already fishing and having some success. I made my way downstream of the second group, leaving about 100 feet or so between us.

“Are you really going to fish there?” Someone called out to me. It was one of the fly fishermen upstream.

I pointed to where I was planning to cast. I knew it was towards the edge of the hole but I wanted to be sure to give them a respectful amount of space. I was downstream so there was no way my line would cross theirs.

“You’re a little close,” he said, “We’re planning on working down this whole hole.”

Embarrassed, I nodded and moved further downstream. If I had been more assertive I might have asked to see his permit showing he owned the whole river. Instead, I made a few casts well downstream of where the fish were before packing up and moving elsewhere.

I got into fishing last year and I am hooked deeper than any fish I have caught. Prior to last year, fishing was something I only did on occasion when I went with someone who knew what they were doing. But last year a couple guys in our church taught me a few things that clicked and I realized: “Hey, I can do this myself.” Soon I was heading up to the lake just about every week and finding success more times than not. 

Amanda has noticed that I have become more confident and outgoing since I began fishing. When we run into other fishermen, I cannot help but ask them how they are doing, what equipment they are using, and then wish them luck. Prior to that experience on the Salmon River, I had yet to have a bad experience with fellow fishermen. Based on stories I have heard, I doubt it will be my last.

One of the things that I have appreciated about fishing is the camaraderie I have experienced with other fishermen. It has never felt, to me, like we are in competition with one another. We all have the same goal and someone else’s success is not a threat to mine or vice versa. We are all working towards enjoying a day by the water and hopefully landing a big one. It has not been uncommon for someone to set up next to me and we find ourselves in conversation – first about fishing and then about life.

I wonder what would have happened if my experience on the Salmon River was my first time trying to fish by myself. The words “Are you really fishing there?” and “You’re a little close” would have hit me in a different way. I not only would have felt unwelcome at that hole, I would have felt unwelcome to the whole endeavor. That one experience could have turned me off from fishing altogether.

I wonder how many times someone has walked into a church and felt the way that I felt on that river. For me, church has been a place that I have always felt welcome. Sure, there have been a few bad experiences but I have never felt unwelcome. There has never been a moment where I felt like I did not belong. Yet this has not been everyone’s experience. I have heard stories of visitors finding a seat in a sanctuary only to be told they were sitting in someone’s spot. Recently I heard a story of a lesbian woman who was told she was not welcome to attend worship at all.

It sucks to be told that you are not welcome, that you do not belong. I suppose fishermen have every right, if they so choose, to decide who is welcome and who is not. But for fishers of men, we are called to welcome whoever Jesus brings to us.

A number of years ago I listened to a Will Willimon sermon. Willimon spent years as a professor at Duke before becoming a bishop. He was asked, “What do you miss most about the university?” Willimon replied, “I miss the people at the Duke University Office of Undergraduate Admissions. Through their work, it was assured that I would only have to deal with people like me. But in the church, Jesus won’t let us have an admissions office. So I have to deal with everyone who Jesus drags through the door.”

A couple years ago we placed a welcome mat in front of our communion table. I refer to it often to remind all present that this is Jesus’ table, not mine. If Jesus is calling you to the table, then who am I to say otherwise? In what other place is everyone truly welcome? Everyone may not be welcome in a university or a fishing hole, but everyone is welcome at the table of our Lord.