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Sometime way back in the last century, I was fishing with my dad. We stood out in front of our family’s oceanfront cottage on Long Beach (now called Oak Island), as I wrestled with my child-sized fishing rod. I was still learning this whole fishing thing, so that day I mostly just fed the crabs.

I’d put a shrimp on my hook, wade into the surf, and fling the bait and tackle as far as I could out into the Atlantic. If I was lucky, I got it beyond the breakers. Usually, I wasn’t lucky. After a few minutes, I’d feel a tug on the line, and I’d eagerly reel my line in, only to discover no fish and a thank-you note from the crabs. That got discouraging fast. After a while, I stuck my fishing rod in the rod holder Dad had jabbed in the sand by my chair and wandered off to look through a shell bed close by.

After a few moments, Dad called me. He needed to go back to the cottage for a minute and asked me to keep an eye on his fishing rod. He placed his rod in its holder by his chair, his fishing line disappearing into the ocean way beyond the breakers.

I watched his rod diligently for a minute or two, but it just sat there with its slight bow pointing out toward the water. After a few moments, I wandered back to the shell bed when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father’s expensive fishing rod sliding over the sand toward the water. I leaped for it and grabbed it. I tried to wind the reel in, but that wasn’t happening. In desperation, I tried to walk the rod back up the beach but almost got yanked off my feet for my efforts. At that point, being completely out of options, I hollered for help. Loudly.

Suddenly, help was there. A couple of fishermen down the beach had seen the whole thing and were already running to my aid. One of the men spoke kindly to me and took the rod from my hands. He began to back his way up the beach. The other fisherman followed the line into the surf. I followed him to see what was hooked on the line. Then, flying out of the top of a curling shore breaker came the biggest sting ray I had ever seen in my life. Shining black, its venomous, barbed tail whipped angrily. Not a happy camper.

In short order, the fisherman’s hands snatched me out of the water, pulled the flapping, furious ray ashore, and with practiced experience removed the dangerous tail. My parents were there as well, having come as soon as I yelled. My cry had produced all the help I needed.

Similarly, God has promised that all we must do when trouble comes is to call on Him (Psalm 18:6). His Word is full of these promises. Several times in my life, trouble has found me, a couple of times life-threatening, and always my Lord has been there with his comforting word, “It is I. Do not be afraid” (John 6:20 NIV).

Plant these assurances in your heart so that they are on your lips when trouble finds you. Call on Him and know in your heart He will answer your cry. His love and protection are eternal.