Storm on the Bering!

This is every sailor's nightmare - a storm at sea - especially at night!
Few of us take the time to imagine the "cost" of the seafood we buy, prepare and consume for our meals. All of it comes with rigorous, cold, difficult, soaking-wet effort, and much of it at the risk of human lives.

Customarily, the crews of seafood processing ships eat and toil sixteen hours a day that they fish, and, maybe?, read or sleep for eight. Work for sixteen hours and rest for eight. When they get to port (usually Dutch Harbor) with full and frozen storage lockers in the bottom of the ships, all hands turn out to offload, even if some had just gone to sleep in their coffin-like bunks.

Fishing vessels are not designed for comfort, and the 151 foot long ship our son, Mark, signed on to for a three month stint was soon at their fishing area- the Bering Sea - where the seas are typically rough in decent weather, and the storms are frequent and rougher.

Mark's first storm scared him more than any other frightening life experiences before and since - and he prayed more and harder! The fearful and repetitious pounding of giant waves, combined with the darkened crew's quarters (someone was always asleep), made sleep and peace of mind impossible. In his mind, Mark was certain that they were going to go down, and would soon be in the freezing, salty embrace of vicious, mountainous seas.

He said to himself, "I am not going to go down in this darkened, rolling, tossing bunk. I'm going up on the deck and talk to Colin (their skipper)''.

He stumbled up steep, iron steps and opened the deck hatch to the ominous shriek of screaming, salty sheets of stinging spray, quickly grasping the ever-present lifelines strategically placed for night movement on slanting, pitching decks.

Immediately Mark's attention was drawn to huge seas where their comparatively tiny craft bore directly down on each one, with intrepid, courageous challenge. They appeared to be a small bit of foam or piece of flotsam in comparison. The terrific pounding came as the result of their ship's temporary respite on each wave's crest, and then right down into the yawning trough of each succeeding, monstrous wave. "We have to be going down," Mark seriously concluded.

He forged his way to the lighted wheelhouse intending to ask Colin how long this could continue, and when they would go down, and what their chances of survival might be? Mounting the deck, he paused in wonder. Colin was sitting in a deck chair smoking his pipe and reading something. He never even had a finger on the wheel, but had it locked in place - directly challenging each threatening sea!

Without a word, Mark carefully made his way back to his darkened bunk. If the captain was not afraid, he had no reason to worry. Colin had weathered many a Bering Sea storm, and obviously, Mark lived to tell me this story.

The application is clear. Our Captain has control of our storms. They are no threat to Him!

A Prayer at a Public High School

The need for prayer can surface at about any place, and in any circumstance - even in a public high school.

They have become the favorite "whipping boy" in the American political arena. Liberal political activists are determined to prohibit God from our educational system. But, as smoke and mists rise to meet the sun, so people instinctively turn to God in prayer when difficulties arise.The high school play cast had frequently and vigorously practiced, and it was "show time" - six evening performances and two Saturday matinees. Excitement was high for both students and their families and friends. Before each performance "the jitters" were openly evidenced, but one young lady seemed unusually controlled, and, at least, outwardly confident.

Another was just the opposite - vigorously gestulating, marching about, obviously upset and very vocal about it all to anyone who would listen. The contrast between the two was marked.

Eventually the vocal one stopped in front of the calm one and asked, "Hillary, how can you be so quiet and calm? Aren't you nervous at all?"

"Sure I am", she replied.

"Well, what do you do to calm down then?"

"I just pray and ask the Lord to help me," was the short answer.

"Well, I need something to help me," her anxious friend said. "Would you say a prayer for me?"

Quietly but briefly, but right in the middle of chaotic jitters, Hillary prayed for her friend. Though unspoken, the act was not lost to onlookers, particularly when the anxiety was softened and, in its place, quiet self-assurance.

On the final night - the last performance to a overflow audience - both anticipation and tension were high.

Just before curtain time, Hillary's friend said to all, "Hillary's prayer really helped me to calm down the other night. Let's have her pray for all of us." And with an assenting nod from teachers and aides, that is just what Hillary did!

Praise the Lord for dedicated, young Christians in our high schools whose testimonies are telling for Christ!

Sidled Through the Door at 74

Actually, the catchy title has only incidental reference to the matter to consider.

I am 74, and had some firewood in my arms, and a slowly closing door through which to walk. The thought flitted through my mind, "Yes, I can slip through it and do it quickly if I move somewhat sideways." It worked fine as thoughts of athleticism mentally applauded the smooth effort.

But it was the method of the move that alerted my senses, and not the actual act. It was not "my kind of a move" at all, but that of one of my dearest pastor friends. Many times, over the years of our working together, I had seen him make just such a "smooth, sideways move" through a narrowing space.

It was the thoughts that followed that quietly rocked my mind. Jim's three boys all made those same smooth, sideways moves, and they do so today though they are in their late forties and early fifties. Their body language, bearing, facial expressions, soft-spokenness and much of their conversations are "Jim all over again."

The truth is that we become like those persons with whom we spend large amounts of time - those with whom we talk a lot, and especially those whom we admire.

The conclusion here is as certain as heredity and environment: the more we spend time with Jesus and His teachings and His Word, the more we are like Him

I love the truth of two heavily-lined verses in my Bible, and long ago made them guiding stars in my own quest for my Lord.

Matthew 10:25a: "It is enough for the disciple that he be as his Master..."

and also,

John3:29: John the Baptist said, "...the friend of the Bridegroom, who stands by and listens to Him, rejoices greatly because of the Bridegroom's voice: this my joy therefore is fulfilled."