Leviathan

“Uh, I guess?” came my weak reply.  I didn’t know the first thing about fishing for sharks, nor if I was even up to the challenge.  But before I could think any more about it, the hook was baited and cast out into the deeper part of the channel we were fishing. 

After a half hour or so of waiting, the reel on the shark rod suddenly started screaming, and the battle was on.  I took the rod out of the holder and simply watched as the shark took the bait and the hook and bolted.  Line screamed off the reel as the boat’s motor was put into gear in pursuit. 

When the shark had gone as far as he wanted, the fight began.  I’d pull up to create slack in the line, then reel down, always keeping tension on the rod while doing so.  As my friend would tell me, “As long as the rod is bent, you’re winning the fight.” But that was small comfort, as the fight would last another 30 minutes, and would take just about everything in me to win it.

Before long, our fishing guide slipped the fighting harness around my waist.  It’s a simple belt with an impression on the front that holds the rod handle, and provides a vantage point for leverage when working the rod.  Up and down, up and down.  Fatigue began to set in, and I wondered if I was actually accomplishing anything. 

Finally, after about 20 minutes of constant fighting, the boat captain shouted “Leader!” as the leader attached to my line was emerging from the water.  This meant there was just a bit of line left to reel in before the shark was at the surface.  I was relieved.  The fight with the shark had my forearms and biceps on fire from constant use, and my lower back was aching from all the pressure of the up and down motion needed to fight the shark. 

“Color!” came the shout, this time to indicate that the shark could be seen because of its proximity to the surface of the water.  By this time we could see clearly enough to tell that it was a sand bar shark, approximately five to six feet in length.  I was grateful, thinking that the fight was almost over and I could finally relax my aching muscles. 

But it was not to be.  As soon as the fish felt the open air beyond the surface of the water its survival instincts kicked in and it obtained its second wind.  This extra burst of energy sent it cruising off out into the deeps once more, taking back all the line that I had previously gained on it.  The fight was far from over.  I summoned my own reserves of strength and energy, and fought the shark again, finally tiring it to the point that we secured it with a tail rope and latched it to the side of the boat and brought it to shore for a quick picture before releasing it. 

When the whole process was complete I was exhausted.  The captain of the boat asked me if I wanted to go again, and began to bait another hook.  “No!” I balked.  “I can’t do that again.  At least not right now!”  I didn’t have the strength left in me for another fight like that.  The power that shark had was something I had never experienced before in all my days of hunting and fishing. 

As strong as that shark was, it had nothing on Leviathan.  Job 41 tells the story of a fearsome sea creature called Leviathan whose power, strength, and dominance were unmatched.  The description of the animal in this chapter is unlike any known creature on earth, so we presume that it has since gone extinct.  But the point of the description of this remarkable fish is to show us that, even though he was the mightiest creature in the sea, his strength pales in comparison to that of the Lord.  Job 41.10 says, “No one is fierce enough to rouse it [Leviathan].  Who then is able to stand against me?”

Fearsome and strong animals, such as sharks, remind us that God is more powerful than we could ever imagine. 

 Excerpt from "A Glorious Arrangement: Christian thoughts on hunting, fishing, and creation" by Joel Detlefsen