Praying for a Goldfish

During our weekly house meeting, my church tunes into an online service from one of our partner churches in Australia. It’s always a special time connecting across the miles, sharing worship, and learning from a different perspective. This time, the pastor delivered a talk with a humorously intriguing title: “Praying for a Goldfish.” Now, let’s be clear: this isn’t about the little fish swimming in a bowl. Instead, the goldfish stands for a lighthearted prayer for something small, such as help with your car, your phone, or even your beloved Nintendo system acting up.

The pastor explained that sometimes our prayers feel big and serious, but other times, they’re just everyday requests. These “goldfish” moments may seem trivial to others, but they hold great significance for us. It was refreshing to hear that prayer doesn’t always have to be grand or deep. Sometimes, it’s the little things that matter most.

After the video, the pastor invited people to share their quirky goldfish stories. A few brave individuals spoke up, laughing as they shared tales of lost keys, odd coincidences, or little miracles that had brightened their days. Their stories brought smiles and a sense of connection. Listening, I felt warmed by their honesty and humour, realising how faith touches life in unexpected ways.

Then it was my turn—or so I thought. I searched my mind for a goldfish moment but found only silence. I’ve never been one for typical prayer requests. My conversations with God tend to wander, more a matter of wondering and reflecting than asking for small favours. That made me feel a little out of place among the simple, joyful prayers everyone else shared.

I left the meeting feeling slightly deflated like a balloon losing air at a birthday party. I smiled at my friends’ stories but felt a strange distance from that lighthearted spirit. When I got home, my thoughts kept returning to that missing goldfish moment. Was I overlooking small blessings? Had I forgotten how to notice everyday miracles around me?

Over the next few days, I threw myself into a cleaning spree—dusting, organising, and even scrubbing the fish tank, though there was no fish in it. Yet, the more I cleaned, the emptier my mind felt, like an empty tank waiting for something to swim in. The goldfish moment I sought seemed to swim just out of reach.

In that quiet space, I realised my goldfish prayers might not be traditional requests after all. Perhaps they are silent hopes, quiet wishes for strength on tough days, or simple gratitude for blessings that go unnoticed. Perhaps my goldfish isn’t a thing but a feeling—an undercurrent of faith flowing even when words fail me. Now, I’m learning to embrace the silence, finding joy in unnamed moments, trusting that even my wandering prayers matter. After all, sometimes the smallest goldfish swims in the deepest waters.

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 attend our local football team, the not-so-mighty Gillingham FC. They played in League Two in England. I had never taken her to a game with just the two of us. She was excited to spend the day with me, and 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, being spoiled like a princess. We had a quick chat, and as you can imagine, she was quite upset. I told her not to worry and to focus on her health—after all, life has more to offer than just football. I was left holding a golden ticket and had only about an hour to play the matchmaker.

First, I called the pastor’s son, who had 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, a fellow born-again Christian, was 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 had in store, 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 could have whatever they wanted. 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 was all about that sense of belonging. 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 goldfish moment I cannot get enough of—the five minutes before the players strut onto the pitch. That’s 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 above their hearts. You can almost hear the collective holding of breath as quietness blankets the stadium. It’s as if the universe paused just for us. Then BOOM! The players march onto the pitch, greeted by the raucous cheers of the Rainham End, a true goldfish moment of anticipation and belonging.

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. We belt it out as if our lives depended on it. That’s another special goldfish moment—a shared joy and unity that binds strangers into a family of fans. We’re not just ready for a game; we are prepared to face the battle head-on. Trust me, victory is sweating bullets in these electrifying goldfish moments.

The match kicked off, and for what felt like an eternity—89 minutes to be exact—we seemed stuck in a goldfish moment of waiting. The score remained stubbornly nil-nil, and hope clung tightly in the hearts of every fan. We yearned for a spark, a flicker of brilliance to help our team snatch those precious three points. I found myself daydreaming about future victories, telling my workmate that one day, this team would give us a glorious goldfish moment to cheer for.

Then, out of nowhere, in the 94th minute, we earned a free kick just outside the box. It was a sudden goldfish moment—a tiny prayer turned real. The ball sailed toward the back post, where our defender, bless him, headed toward an unmarked player lurking like a ninja on the far side. Time seemed to slow down as the ball floated through the air—a heart-pounding goldfish moment that felt like forever.

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 toddler on a sugar rush—a joyful goldfish moment bursting to life. I grabbed 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 stadium erupted in deafening cheers, and the entire stand shook as strangers united in joyous celebration. It was a collective moment of pure happiness and relief, akin to a goldfish’s. My workmate pulled me in for our first celebratory embrace, and I could feel my heart somersaulting with excitement. If it weren’t for my sturdy bones, I swear it would have launched itself into the stands. Moments later, the referee blew the final whistle, marking the end of a truly unforgettable goldfish moment.

After the match, the celebrations continued with a karaoke session. We belted out “Rocking All Over the World” by Status Quo, followed by a soulful rendition of Engelbert Humperdinck’s “Last Waltz.” That evening, the goldfish moment took on a deeper meaning. I invited my coworker to church, and he eagerly agreed. As we walked toward my true sanctuary—yes, the church, not Priestfield Stadium—another coworker suddenly joined us. At that moment, I felt the Holy Spirit nudging me, whispering, “Invite him too.” Another beautiful moment of unexpected friendship and invitation with a goldfish.

We talked about work, life, and God as if on an endless stroll, sharing thoughts and laughter. When we finally arrived, the church warmly welcomed my friends. What had started as a disappointing day transformed into a joyful moment of community and faith, akin to a moment of epiphany. While football thrills me, the church reminds me that in life’s bigger game, I score every time, thanks to the blood of Jesus Christ. He’s the captain of our team, holding His cup like a pro, leading us to victory in faith.

Seeing new faces in the church was a true blessing. And to think, it all began with one simple goldfish prayer—a small, hopeful request—while perched on a cold steel chair at the train station. I genuinely love praying for my work buddies, my daughter, all the Gillingham players and fans, and our friends from Milton Keynes. Who knew a Sunday could turn into such a rich, uplifting goldfish moment adventure?

Reflecting now, I realise that goldfish moments come in many forms, not just the big wins or spectacular goals, but also in small moments, such as unexpected invitations and shared joys. These moments remind me that faith isn’t always about grand miracles; sometimes, it’s the quiet, everyday blessings swimming just beneath the surface. And just like the humble goldfish, these moments may be small, but they carry depths of meaning that shape our lives.