At The Helm

There are a few things in this life that I am very fond of doing; a few things that I truly enjoy with my entire being. One of these is deep sea fishing. I mean real deep sea fishing.
         
There is nothing like being out on the ocean far from the sight of land to get the blood pumping. You see, deep sea fishing isn't deep sea fishing if you can see land; that's coastal fishing. That’s alright for some, I suppose; but why catch red drum and speckled trout, when you can go for king mackerel and wahoo?
         
Down in Murrells Inlet there is a place by the name of Captain Dick’s Marina where you can board one of his boats and go out deep sea fishing. When I get the chance to head out, which unfortunately is not very often, my favorite excursion is the overnight trip. You leave out at about 8:00 in the evening and return the next day at about 2:00 in the afternoon. Three hours out to the Gulf Stream, twelve hours fishing and three hours back. It will wear you out, but it sure is a lot of fun.
         
You get to see a lot of things out on the ocean at night that you would never see during the daylight hours. Over the years I have seen sea snakes surrounding the boat by the hundreds, drawn by the lights. I have seen lots of sharks, manta rays, sea turtles and some things that I could never identify. I have heard the low melancholy cry of whales in the night. I have listened for the siren call and looked far and wide, but as of yet I have neither seen nor heard a mermaid; but if there is one out there somewhere, I hope to meet her one day.
         
There is something magical and a bit frightening about the ocean and its power that draws me to it. There is nothing like the vast ocean to help bring your life and yourself into perspective. 
         
There are some strikingly beautiful things that one can only see while out on the ocean late at night. I have seen more falling stars while out there than anywhere else, I believe. You have an unobstructed 360 degree view. Well, actually, it’s a 540 degree view, if you consider the sky. One of the most beautiful things to see, in my opinion at least, is a thunderstorm way off in the distance.
         
I remember years ago on one of these ventures when upon our departure, I spotted the top of a thunderhead just beyond the horizon right before darkness descended and the ocean went black. I paid little attention to it. I was paying closer attention to figuring out how to get my prized spot up at the front of the boat where I always parked myself. Later on, however, after about three hours of riding the waves, when we had stopped and settled ourselves into our chosen positions and our legs were once again familiar with the ever-present pitch and roll, I took notice again.
         
It was apparently a very slow moving storm for it was now only just above the horizon. Perhaps we had been quartering away from it. I truly don't know; but when we stopped, it hadn't seemed to have moved very much.
         
There are some things of such intense beauty and awesome power that they will send a shiver up and down my spine every time. One of these is a lightning flash in the distance. You know one of those flashes that light up the interior of a storm and place it in stark relief against the sky. A flash of that sort, late at night with nothing obstructing the view, is breathtaking and a bit chilling.
         
Well, that night after we came to rest over the Stream, I looked over to the east where I knew the storm to be and saw nothing for a moment; but then there was a flash that lit up the eastern sky, and I felt that shiver. I waited for what seemed an eternity and finally I heard what I took to be thunder, but it was so faint and far off that I was left to wonder.
         
As the night deepened, the storm moved closer to us.  It moved very slowly, but that it was getting closer was undeniable. In a strange phenomenon, our boat, so vast and powerful a few hours earlier, had dwindled in size; and we all felt exposed and more than a little concerned as the night drew on.   

There was nothing but stars in the rest of the sky that evening, not even a cloud, so the storm wandered the heavens untethered. In its lonesome travels, however, it had apparently set its affections upon our little craft and decided to seek consolation in our company. For the sound of the thunder quickened its pace, and the lightning intensified as the incredible beauty of a moment before was quickly overtaken by the awesome power that now closed in upon us.
         
At about 2:00 a.m., it hit us full force. The waves picked up from a tranquil three to four feet, to ten to fifteen in a moment, and higher still a moment later. The wind reached gale force in what seemed to be an instant, and the lightning was so intense and repetitive that you were forced to close your eyes in a fruitless attempt to escape it. To escape the thunder was equally impossible.  It cracked and rolled and shook you to your bones. It threatened to tear our little island apart.
         
The first mate, a salty sailor of fifty years or so, scoffed at those of us cowering in the cabin. His rough voice told us not to worry, that we were perfectly safe. It was just a little squall. It was about the time that a bolt of lightning struck the flag pole, and the accompanying thunder seemed to drive us deep into the sea that our salty sailor reconsidered his position. The resulting tumult sent us all, first mate included, down to the floor where we fervently confessed our sins and prayed for deliverance.  
         
The squall was on top of us for no more than fifteen minutes. That was nowhere near long enough for all of our confessions to have been properly dispensed; but due to the storm’s movement, and the skill and courage of our captain, we slipped out from under the danger safe and sound.

In no time at all we were back enjoying peaceful seas, nervously laughing at our fear after having been reminded of our mortality and continuing once again upon our quest of reeling in the big one.
 
There are times when it feels as if the whole world is crashing down around you. Times when all you can do is hold on for dear life and pray. There are times when it appears that sanity has taken a holiday and the world seems ready to spin off into the vastness of space.
Perhaps that is today in your life, perhaps it will be tomorrow; but when that happens, and it will, remember that Christ Jesus is always at the helm and always in control. 

 Matt 8:23-26
 23 Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. 24 Without warning, a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. 25 The disciples went and woke him, saying, "Lord, save us! We're going to drown!"
 
26 He replied, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?" Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.
NIV
 
 
 
        
 
 
 
 
 
 

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