The Final Journey
A moving reflection on the fish that carried the temple tax coin, revealing God's perfect purpose in every life. Sometimes the greatest miracles begin with unseen sacrifice and unwavering trust.
LATESTRENEW
Stephen
7/11/20262 min read
It was my final day. They say the weight of a life depends entirely on the purpose for which we meet our destiny—and size matters very little when the significance of that purpose is vast. Yet, a journey becomes grueling when you are moving toward an end that is already known and close at hand. It is like watching a suspense movie whose climax has already been revealed. My time was up; the end was near.
The Sea of Galilee was warm. Gentle waves rolled slowly toward the shore, kissing the sand one by one before disappearing. Though they knew reaching the shore meant the end of their journey, they rolled on unceasingly.
On the bank, a Galilean fisherman approached with his rod. Confusion was etched across his face. He was on a mission to carry out his Master’s instructions but worry weighed heavily on him. How could he complete a task so unheard of? In all his years, he had never encountered a command like this.
Deep below, I was searching for his line. I could not bite just any bait; it had to be that specific one. Many other lures dangled in the water, but my time had not yet come. I swam back and forth, restless and uncomfortable with the unusual object wedged in my mouth. It was a heavy burden—but then, anything outside of our daily routine always feels uncomfortable and burdensome.
The fisherman reached a spot where others were already gathered. Some sat while others stood on the bank, eyes fixed on the water. The new arrival found a place to sit and began to prepare. He carefully took out his rod, baited the hook, and cast the line into the water. Born to the sea, he was a seasoned fisherman who had cast lines for his livelihood for as long as he could remember. A cool wind blew across the gentle waves as he settled in to wait for his prized catch.
Below the surface, my restlessness grew. Swimming, usually effortless, had become difficult. I searched continuously for the bait that would lead me to my destiny, passing by countless live lures hanging from above. I had to navigate carefully. Normally, a fish must swim away from these life-threatening hooks, but my journey was different. Around me, other fish swam aimlessly, some falling prey to the sharp steel hidden behind the lures.
Then, I saw it. The right bait. My journey was coming to its end.
I swam close, confirmed it was the one, and with all my remaining strength, I bit down and pulled. A sudden, forceful yank pierced my jaw, and I was dragged upward, out of the water.
The pain was blinding as the hook tore through my gills. I suffocated in the open air, gasping for breath, my body thrashing desperately in excruciating pain.
In my final moments I want to say something to you - Thank you so much, Stephen, for writing my story.
(Simon Peter reached down and removed the coin from the mouth of the first fish he caught, exactly as the Lord Jesus had commanded. He then went on his way to pay the temple tax for himself and for his Master.)
Sometimes, someone or something is ordained to endure pain to help us in a miraculous way, a way that is only possible through our Lord. Just believe Him.