Praying for a Goldfish

Church Stories: Praying for a Goldfish

By Neil McBride.

During our weekly house meeting, my church tunes into an online service from one of our partner churches in Australia. This time, the pastor delivered a humorously titled talk: “Praying for a Goldfish.” Now, let’s clear the air—this is not about the floppy little creature swimming in your living room bowl. Nope! A goldfish represents a light-hearted prayer for something small and seemingly inconsequential. Consider it asking the universe for help with your car engine, phone, or even your beloved Nintendo.

The pastor invited everyone to share their quirky goldfish moments. After the video, a few brave souls recounted their amusing stories as we gathered for our house meeting. There I was, racking my brain for a goldfish moment. But after digging through my memory, I only found echoes of silence. You see, I’ve never been one for typical prayer requests. My conversations with the Big Guy tend to stray from the beaten path!

I left the house meeting feeling slightly let down, like a deflated balloon at a birthday party. Once I got home, it seemed my little brain was searching for my goldfish story. I have had my fair share of laugh-out-loud moments and plenty of just plain ordinary ones during my Christian journey. Over the next few days, I couldn’t shake the thought of that goldfish. After a very enthusiastic cleaning spree, my mind felt as empty as a fish tank!

Here is my tale of a goldfish moment. It began the night before as I searched for ideas for my daughter and me. When I was a child, my favourite thing to do with my father was attending our local football team, the not-so-mighty Gillingham FC. They played in League Two in England. I have never taken her to a game with just us. She was excited to spend the day with me, and hopefully, we would enjoy a win, as we had against Milton Keynes Dons. I went online and purchased the tickets.

The next day, I got a call from my daughter with shocking news: she was sick and couldn’t leave her bed. Don’t worry; she was with her mother, so she was being spoiled like a princess. We had a quick chat, and as you can imagine, she was quite upset. I told her not to sweat it and focused on her health—after all, life has more to offer than just football! I was left holding a golden ticket and only had about an hour to play the matchmaker.

First, I rang up the pastor’s son, who’d been my game buddy a few weeks back. But no luck. He was already locked into plans with his mother. So, I resorted to my next plan and posted about my spare ticket on the church WhatsApp page. Nobody was eager to join me for the glorious battle of the footy gods. There I was, ticket in hand, feeling like the last leftover slice of pizza at a party.

 

Eventually, I plopped down on a bench at the train station, head buried in my hands, praying for a “goldfish moment” where everything magically falls into place.

I wandered down the local high street, just a hop, skip, and a jump from the stadium, on a mission to find a friend or at least some delightful memory from yesteryears. As I strolled past Costa, sipping my coffee (because what’s a search without caffeine?), luck seemed to evade me. Then, I spotted a beach—yes, in the middle of the high street—giving me a quirky “hello” that was both soft and loud. Lo and behold, my buddy from work was a fellow born-again Christian, waving at me as if we hadn’t seen each other in aeons!

I plopped down next to him and asked what exciting plans he was cooking up, but alas, nothing fancy was on the agenda. I whipped out my golden ticket, safely stored in the mystical land of my phone’s photo section. His eyes lit up like it was Christmas! He sprang from the not-so-lonely beach (who knew high streets had beaches?!), and we set off toward the illustrious floodlight of Priestfield Stadium.

It was his first-ever match! Although he had attended a few games back in Nigeria, nothing could prepare him for this British football experience. With about ten minutes left on the clock, I crammed a Gillingham Football Club history lesson into our brisk walk while trying to explain why our league performance this season has been more ‘oops’ than ‘yay.’ Let’s say, it was a rollercoaster of stats, laughter, and hopeful banter!

In just a few months, I’ll officially hit the big 4-0! Can you believe it? I’ve been cheering for Gillingham since 1994, which means I have kept my eyes on the team and my hopes high for three glorious decades. It’s like following a rollercoaster, except it’s more unpredictable, and the only loops are the heart-stopping goals that make you question your life choices!

When I stepped into the stadium packed to the brim with fellow fans, the vibe was electric—like a kid in a candy store who just found out they can have whatever they want. The sun had finally graced England with its presence; witnesses were in short sleeves, sporting their kits and smiling like the Cheshire Cat. As we entered the stadium, those nostalgic feelings crashed over me like a tidal wave; it’s all about that sense of belonging, is not it? This is my tribe outside of Sunday service, and for the next couple of hours, we had one mission: rallying behind our boys in blue to claim the victory we all dream of.

 

Now, there’s this magical moment I just cannot get enough of, those five minutes before the players strut onto the pitch. That is when a swell of pride overtakes me as I think about being from Medway and supporting my local lads. The players come out clad in our colours, the club logo proudly displayed right above their hearts, and you can almost hear the collective holding of breath as quietness blankets the stadium. It’s as if the universe paused just for us, and then BOOM! The players march onto the pitch, greeted by the raucous cheers of the Rainham End. And when you think it couldn’t get any better, they blare out “The Last Waltz” over the speakers, transforming the crowd into one big, harmonious choir, belting it out as if our lives depended on it. We’re not just ready for a game; we are prepared to face the battle head-on and trust me, victory is sweating bullets!

The match kicked off, and for what felt like an eternity, 89 minutes, to be precise. It looked like we were headed for another thrilling nil-nil snoozefest. We were clinging to hope, yearning for a burst of creativity to help our team clinch those precious three points. I was daydreaming about future glories and assuring my workmate that one day, just one day, this team would give us something to cheer about. Then, out of nowhere, in the 94th minute, we snagged a free kick right outside the box.

The ball sailed toward the back post, where our defender, bless his heart, headed it toward an unmarked player lurking like a ninja on the far side of the goal. Time slowed to a crawl as that ball floated in the air; I swear I was waiting for it to grow a beard! With his signature blonde hair, Bradley Dack somehow controlled the ball with a flick of his head, expertly bringing it down to his foot before firing it into the net right in front of the Rainham End. I went from standing tall like a perfect gentleman to bouncing around like a loony toddler on a sugar high. I couldn’t help but grab the stranger next to me, and in the spirit of pure football camaraderie, we shared what can only be described as a gentleman’s hug of epic proportions.

The atmosphere escalated to deafening levels, and the stand shook as a crowd of strangers erupted in joy. I felt my workmate pull me in for our first celebratory embrace, it was glorious! My heart was doing somersaults, and if it were not for my sturdy bones, it might have launched itself into the stands. Moments later, the ref finally blew the whistle for full-time.

The fans celebrated with our blue and white warriors on the field; victory was ours! Next stop: karaoke! We belted out “Rocking All Over the World” by Status Quo, followed by a soulful rendition of Engelbert Humperdinck’s “Last Waltz.” As we left the stadium, the Goldfish moment had officially begun; what a day to remember!

 

I told my buddy from work that I was heading to church and invited him to join me for the ride. He was totally up for it! As we strolled toward my true sanctuary, yes, the church, not Priestfield, we got sidetracked by another coworker.

Suddenly, I felt the Holy Spirit nudging me as if to say, “Hey, you should invite him too!” I was still buzzing from the game, but the thought of bringing my work pals to this comfy haven gave me even more butterflies.

We chatted about work, life, and God as if we were on a never-ending stroll. When we finally arrived, the church rolled out the red carpet for them; I met my real family and mingled with the folks I adore. What started as a sad day transformed into pure joy! Don’t get me wrong, it’s always thrilling to see my childhood team snag three points, but in church, I remember I scored every time, thanks to the incredible blood of Jesus Christ. He’s the captain of our team and holds onto His cup like a pro!

It was such a delight to see new faces in the church. And to think it all started with one simple prayer while perched on a cold, steel chair at the local train station! I genuinely love people and often pray for my work buddies, my daughter, all those Gillingham players and fans, and our friends from Milton Keynes. Who knew a Sunday could transform into such an uplifting adventure?

God Bless you all, and thank you for reading my blog

Church Stories: Praying for a Goldfish

DTA – Neil McBride

(CEO and founder of Downtown Angels)