On faith and goldfish.

My housemate, K, and I are both proud owners of wonderful aquatic friends, their names being Teller and Figaro respectively. Teller makes the rounds of the house while dear Figaro stands (or rather swims) sentinel on the coffee table. They are fabulous friends both to each other and to the people who love them.

I have been in and out of work all week feeling unwell, and thus on Tuesday I arrived at the office an hour later than usual. K was already gone from the house (either longboarding or praying--I get them confused), so I hurriedly fed the fish on my way out the door. That is to say--I fed Figaro, but as I approached Teller, I saw to my dismay that he was floating aimlessly at a disquieting angle. I tapped the glass and shook the bowl, but alas, he was gone.

Now K and I have spent several months speaking life to each one of our expired fish, but to no avail. It has spawned many wonderful discussions between the two of us about faith and living in the Spirit of God, but the fish always remain dead.

So as I surveyed the woeful scene that morning, I thought sadly, "I'm going to have to tell K her fish died." I grabbed my keys and raced out the door with a passing prayer: "Jesus, please bring K's fish back to life."

To summarize, I came home that evening and he was swishing happily on K's desk.


Of course, I forgot to mention anything at all in the exhaustion and half-delirium in the days that followed. It was only last night that I suddenly recalled, "K! Your fish was dead on Tuesday!"

And thus is my tale.

We're still a bit befuddled as to why the fish had never arisen before or why my other fish, Liam, stayed dead just two days later. The facts, however, do not change: something dead came alive in our house this week.

And Jesus is outstanding.


What do you believe the Spirit of God can do?