I had a tank of tropical fish. Someone turned up the tank heater and they all boiled. I woke up on a Friday morning and I went to feed them - and there they were - all of my beautiful fish floating on the top. Most of them split in two. Others with their eyes hanging out. It looked like violence, but it was such a quiet night. And I remember wishing that I had the kind of ears that could hear fish screams because they looked as if they had suffered and I wanted so badly to save them. That Sunday in church, I heard that Christ told his apostles to be fishers of men. From then on, I looked at all the people in the church as fish. I was young so I saw them as beautiful tropical fish and so I knew they were quiet screamers. Church was so quiet. And I thought everyone was boiling. And I wanted the kind of ears that could hear what they were screaming about, because I wanted to save them. A few years later , the people in the church lost the stained-glass look of tropical fish, and they became catfish to me- over-dressed scavengers. So I drowned out whatever I might be able to hear. I made my world- my tank - so hot that I almost split. So now I’m back-listening to the screams of angels.
— Bill Davis, Mass Appeal
button
