by Jerry Senn
The captain of the ship looked into the dark night and saw faint lights in the distance. Immediately he told his signalman to send a message: “Alter your course 10 degrees south.”
Promptly a return message was received: “Alter your course 10 degrees north.”
The captain was angered; his command had been ignored. So he sent a second message: “Alter your course 10 degrees south—I am the captain.”
Soon another message was received: “Alter your course 10 degrees north—I am seaman third class Jones.”
Immediately the captain sent a third message, knowing the fear it would evoke: “Alter your course 10 degrees south—I am a battleship.”
Then the reply came: “Alter your course 10 degrees north—I am a lighthouse.”
In the midst of our dark and foggy times, all sorts of voices are shouting orders into the night, telling us what to do, how to adjust our lives. Out of the darkness, one voice signals something quite opposite to the rest—something almost absurd. But the voice happens to be the Light of the World, and we ignore it at our peril. (Craig Larson)
Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me
Over life’s tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treach’rous shoal;
Chart and compass came from Thee,
Jesus Savior, pilot me.
As a mother stills her child,
Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boist’rous waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treach’rous shoal;
Wondrous Sov‘reign of the sea,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.
When at last I near the shore,
And the fearful breakers roar
‘Twixt me and the peaceful rest,
Then, while leaning on Thy breast,
May I hear Thee say to me,
‘Fear not, I will pilot thee.”
(Edward Hopper, w 1872)