Compassion – or ‘Catch and Release’?

I’m not a fisherman. Three times in my life I’ve taken fishing rod in hand, and caught nary a thing. If survival were based on my fishing skills, my family and I would have perished . I went deep-sea fishing once in Florida. Apparently, I fed a lot of fish because my bait kept disappearing, but didn’t catch any.

As a result, I’ve never engaged in “catch and release.” In case you’ve not heard of it – which means you’re also not a fisher-person – it’s when a fish is caught, reeled in, admired (maybe with a souvenir photo), and then tossed back into the water, whether it’s a pond, river, sea or ocean. A humane practice, I’m told: the fisherman experiences the thrill of the catch, and the fish lives to swim another day.

Film presents powerful lessons
about "catch and release."

Catch-and-release may be humane – unless those being released are humans. This came to my mind while viewing the excellent film, “Same Kind of Different as Me.” It presents several compelling story lines – including healing a broken marriage, rebuilding a strained father-son relationship, and an affluent couple’s decision to serve homeless people at an inner-city shelter.

Based on a true story, the couple in the film (Ron and Debbie Hall) meet a homeless black man, nicknamed “Suicide.” True to his moniker, with ball bat in hand he appears a dangerous individual, but the husband and wife attempt to befriend him nonetheless.

One evening Ron invites the man, whose real name is Denver Moore, to dinner. Over the meal, Denver weighs whether he wants to be Ron’s friend. He observes, “You white folk do something you call ‘catch and release,’” acknowledging the practice seems curious to him. Growing up as an orphan and raised by poor relatives working as sharecroppers, Denver recalls times he went fishing with his brother. When they would catch a fish, the last thing they wanted to do was let it go.

Then he asks Ron if that’s what he intends to do if they become friends. Would Denver become a hobby of sorts for a time, then released when something else comes along to catch Ron’s attention?

This is a profound question, particularly when serving others in the name of Jesus Christ. It’s easy to make a brief foray into ministry, whether it’s working with children, doing a project for an elderly person, discipling a younger believer, mentoring someone, or even a short-term mission trip. We feel good about our deeds, but then we “catch and release,” moving onto something that seems more interesting.

A friend calls this “mercy tourism.” We spend a little time with people, maybe talking with them about Jesus or performing some benevolent acts, and then we leave, never to return. It’s not to say this is wrong, but most of the time long-term effects of our service are minimal. People are still poor, still homeless, still living in desperate circumstances after we retreat to our comfortable lives.

Real, transformational spiritual impact in the lives of others requires more than a cameo appearance. Perhaps that’s why the book of Proverbs offers several admonitions about true friendship. For instance, it states, “A friend loves for all times, and a brother is born for adversity” (Proverbs 17:17). No bailing when the going turns tough.

Another verse, Proverbs 27:10, states, “Do not forsake your friend or a friend of your family… better a neighbor nearby than a relative far away.” Proverbs 18:24 adds, “One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”

Throughout the Scriptures we see examples of enduring, devoted friendships – David and Jonathan; Barnabas and Saul/Paul; Paul and Timothy; and of course, Jesus and His closest disciples. Even with fishermen like Peter, Andrew, James and John, the Lord never demonstrated a “catch and release” mindset.

We might argue, “But I only have so much time and energy!” That’s true for all of us. Which puts a premium on where we make our commitments, and with whom. As my favorite devotional writer, Oswald Chambers, points out, a need does not constitute a call. But when God calls us – to an endeavor, or person – He expects us to hang in there. Real compassion means not catching and releasing.

True Love – or Fish Love?

What do you love? Probably a lot of things. We hear people say it all the time: “I love summer.” “I love reading a good book.” “I love Denzel Washington.” “I love my dog (or cat).” “I love pizza (or prime rib).” “I love New York City (or Chicago).” “I love classical music (or rap).” “I love the Buckeyes (or Crimson Tide, or Fighting Irish).” “I love my car.” “I love my wife (or husband).” “I love ‘Fixer Upper’ (or NCIS, or ‘The Bachelor’).”

We seem to be a people who love to love, and love being in love. Recently, however, I saw a video in which a rabbi explained how we’ve cheapened the term “love.” In fact, he asked a question we all should consider at one time or another: Is it true love – or is it “fish love.”

There's nothing wrong with "fish love,"
but the only one it costs is the fish.

The rabbi elaborated that someone might declare, “I love fish.” But after that individual catches a fish, he kills it, filets it, fries it – and eats it. What if we treated our spouses like that? Much of the time, he observed, we regard the things we love in terms of personal gratification – tastes good, looks good, or makes us feel good.

Too often we speak of love in terms of what we expect to receive. The young man smiles as his prospective bride walks up the aisle, imagining how she’ll complete his life and fulfill his every desire. She’s thinking of him in similar terms. As I’ve noted in other posts, we see this mindset exhibited on “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette,” and shows like that, in which the reality stars proclaim their “love” for several people at the same time, because they all gratify them in different ways. Kind of like saying, “I love fish…and chicken…and pasta…and cheeseburgers...and chocolate cake.”

If we were to survey couples who’ve been married for a long time, many of them in one way or another would credit the longevity of their relationship (at least in part) to the discovery that love is as much about giving as it is about receiving.

To truly love means learning to use phrases like “my way” and “I want” in decreasing measure, and instead asking questions like, “What do you want to do?” or “What can I do for you?”

We often hear people say, “God is love,” like it’s some casual mantra. But we fail to grasp what God’s love means – and what it cost Him. We see that cost stated in John 3:16 and the verse following, a passage so familiar we risk not appreciating its gravity: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”

Yes, God desires our love and worship and praise – and deserves it fully and unreservedly. But the greatest expression of His love was not what He would receive, but what He would give, in order that we might receive life everlasting. The word for love most commonly used in the New Testament is “agape,” a love that is selfless, unconditional and costly.

Engaging in “fish love” doesn’t cost anything. The only one making a sacrifice is the fish. We indulge and enjoy, then discard the bones, scales and scraps. We’ve gotten out of it what we wanted, and that’s the end of it. By contrast, genuine love often requires sacrifice, sometimes a lot of it. Picture the wife who sticks with her maimed soldier husband after he returns from a tour in the Middle East. Or the husband who devotes his life to serving his wife in her latter stages of dementia.

We see this poignantly portrayed in the final chapter of the gospel of John. After Jesus guides His disciples to a miraculous catch of fish, He confronts Peter, who earlier had denied Him three times. Twice Jesus asks Peter, “do you truly love Me?” using the term agape – sacrificial love. Peter replies each time, “You know that I love you,” using the term phileo – a form of love that refers to fondness or friendship. Kind of like “fish love.”

Finally, Jesus changes His own word, using the term “phileo” when He again asks Peter, “Do you love Me?” (John 21:13-19). As I understand this encounter, Jesus essentially was telling his impetuous disciple, “Okay, I’ll accept you where you are. The time will come when your love for me will become agape, and it will cost you everything. But it will be well worth it.”

Maybe we should ask ourselves: Do I truly love Jesus, or is “fish love” all I have to offer?