Light of the World
"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the Alaska Ranger. 5, 3, 5, 3 North, 1, 6, 9, 5, 8 West... We are flooding, taking on water in our rudder room."
It was 2:52 am on March 23, Easter morning, when Coast Guard Station Kodiak picked up the distress call from a point almost 800 miles west, in Alaska's frigid Bering Sea.
"Roger. Good copy on position... Request to know number onboard, over."
After a static-filled pause, the answer came through loud and clear: "Number of persons: 47."
Capt. Peter Jacobsen was in the crowded wheelhouse of the 189-ft. fishing vessel. When the trawler's emergency alarm had first sounded about an hour before, crew members descended below decks to see water rising fast in the ship's stern compartments. They had pulled out a pump, but the effort soon looked futile. Now Jacobsen, 65, a veteran captain who had been fishing in the Bering Sea for 23 years, was making calls to his ship's sister vessels, repeating the coordinates of the Ranger's position 120 miles west of the Aleutian Island port of Dutch Harbor.
Two hundred and thirty miles to the north, pilot Steve Bonn was in the middle of a late-night Xbox duel when the phone rang in the Coast Guard's tiny outpost on St. Paul Island. Bonn, 39, had served as an Army Blackhawk pilot before joining the Coast Guard eight years ago. He was now four days into a two-week shift at the isolated base, where squads of rescuers stand by for emergencies involving the nation's largest—and most danger-plagued—fishing fleet. Bonn rushed to the barracks to wake his crew. Within minutes, they had loaded into SUVs, sped through 3-ft. snow drifts to the hangar and were fueling up a 14,500-pound HH-60 Jayhawk helicopter.
Craig Lloyd, 46, captain of the Coast Guard cutter Munro, was on patrol near the ice edge south of the barren Pribilof Islands when the mayday call came through. He ordered engineers to switch the 378-ft. cutter from its standard diesel engines to Pratt & Whitney FT4A engines, similar to the ones that power Boeing 707s. Several of the 160 crew members onboard were jarred awake in their bunks as the 18,000-hp turbines kicked in, and the Munro began to sprint toward the sinking ship at a speed of nearly 30 knots, or 35 mph.
David Hull struggled to pull a bright-red survival suit over the sweats he had been sleeping in minutes before. The thick, neoprene "Gumby" suit, which looks a little like a child's footed pajamas, has a zipper up the front that is supposed to form a tight seal at the neck to keep the body dry. But as Hull stepped into the flopping legs of the oversize suit, he felt his thermal socks soak through. Inside, there was already standing water.
Hull had been asleep on his "rack" in the bunk room that he shared with three fellow fishermen when another crew member opened the door: "Get your suits on. We're flooding." Like the rest of the crew, Hull had reported to a muster station near his designated life raft on the ship's deck. Now the anxious men were cycling through 5-minute warmup shifts in the wheelhouse, where they could barely recognize each other in the bulky, hooded suits.
Outside, the deck was slick with ice, and waves were beginning to crest over the stern. The temperature was only 12 F. As Hull leaned against the front window of the wheelhouse, awaiting his turn, the Alaska Ranger went dark. Oddly, it seemed to shift into reverse. Then the trawler took a sudden, violent list to starboard. Hull lunged for an icy rail and held tight as crew members clinging to the rail below him gazed up in horror. "Don't let go, don't let go," he heard someone yell. If he lost his grip, Hull would hurtle down the deck like a bowling ball, knocking the men into the sea.
Amid the chaos, the captain issued the order: Abandon ship. The men struggled to launch the ice-crusted life rafts. They had been told that they would lower ladders to board the rafts in an emergency. But because the Ranger was moving astern, the rafts shot toward the bow instead of floating in place near the side of the vessel. Hull watched them drift away. Then he jumped. He swam for the closest raft, hauled himself in, then peered out of the tented shelter. All around, the lights attached to his friends' survival suits were spreading out in the 32 F water, blinking in and out of view as the men bobbed up and down in the 20-ft. swells.
One of those lights belonged to Ryan Shuck, a soft-spoken 31-year-old from Spokane, Wash., who had joined the crew of the Alaska Ranger 10 months earlier. Shuck had been one of the first to jump. He'd leaped from the middle of the ship—and was quickly sucked under and beyond his raft. Now he was farther downwind than anyone else. Gazing back in the trawler's direction, he could see the tiny, solitary beacons flickering among the waves and, by the light of the moon, the outline of the vessel bulging out from the ocean. Shuck watched as the bow of the Alaska Ranger turned up toward the sky. Eerily, the lights in the wheelhouse flickered on for a brief moment. And then, in a matter of seconds, the ship disappeared, sinking swiftly below the waves.
Not a movie, not just a story. Before dawn on March 23, 2008, the Alaska Ranger sank in America's deadliest waters. As 47 souls fought for survival, the US Coast Guard launched one of the most daring and dramatic rescues in history, saving all but five of them. If you want to read the whole story, pick up a copy of Kalee Thompson's book, Deadliest Sea: The Untold Story Behind the Greatest Rescue in Coast Guard History. The excerpt above is from an article she published in Popular Mechanics Magazine, June 30th, 2008.
I am a huge fan of the US Coast Guard. I served in the US Air Force for 12 years, and I am not ashamed to say the Coast Guard is my favorite of the US armed services. In my previous career, I held several contracts with the Coast Guard and became very familiar with the work they do both here at home and around the world. I know at least one of our church members, Rick Koch, is a Coastie and, if you know him, you know he represents very well the characteristic selflessness and bravery that flows freely in the veins of all his service brethren.
Because of my business relationship with the Coast Guard, I believe I have been made more acutely aware than the average American of stories like these. I have watched press conferences where rescued survivors described through tears the trials of despair they endured in the darkest of nights, the fears that welled over them like the waves that held them hostage; and the unspeakable joy of spotting that first tiny flicker of light on the horizon. The stories I heard may all have varied in detail, but one constant ran through them all. The grateful survivors always thanked the Coast Guard, but it was the Seamen who pulled them from the deep they all hugged and kissed. How could they not? When you think even for a moment of the risks these heroes take, the safety and security they gladly lay down, and all they sacrifice to save just one of us, all that’s left to feel is utter gratitude – for the rescuers and for the ones who sent them.
I think if the Apostle Paul had been called to start a service-related branch of government, he would have founded the US Coast Guard. I say that because of what I read in 1 Corinthians chapter 9 where Paul describes his determination to set aside his own rights, his own comforts, and his own glory for the benefit of others and reveals his strategy for making disciples for Christ in verse 22, “…I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.”
You may have noticed the banners hanging on the eastern outside wall of our sanctuary. There are three of them and they read, “Light,” Life,” and “Love.” What you may not know is that those banners describe the three elements of the NUMC church vision –
“To be the Light, Life, and Love of Jesus Christ.’
A vision is simply a statement of WHAT we are working to BE. It offers a view of what we wish to become and what we hope to be known for in the community. It is a leadership responsibility to articulate and cast a vision for the church, and it is our individual responsibility as members to interpret that vision in the light of what God is calling us to do to make it a reality. That can be a little challenging. It takes a lot prayer, a lot of preaching, a lot of Bible study, a lot of service, and a lot of good discipleship to help us understand what the vision means to each of us and our work here – and once complete, all that must be done again, and again, and again, as we grow in our knowledge of and our service to the Lord.
It is a routine part of my walk to measure my calling with respect to our church vision, and I thought it might make that challenge less daunting for some if I shared my current approach and interpretation. I will do this in three installments of this blog from today through October, covering all three elements of our Vision statement. Today, I will start with the first element, Light.
For me, the church that is Light will bring Illumination. Where the Coast Guard mission depends on bringing physical light, the church’s light must illuminate much more than just our physical surroundings. It must shine into places we cannot see with our eyes. There is an effort in keeping that light as bright and as focused as possible, and I think my experience with the Coast Guard can offer some ideas that will make that effort more effective. Maybe I can follow their example and:
Do my homework. Whether I like to look at the world in its present condition or not, I must make the effort to understand the real problems and needs of my community. I need to understand more about the people that need God’s help and the environments into which He is calling me. I should know my neighbors, read the paper, stop avoiding social media, and get to work with others in my small groups to regularly engage with the community in some way. It is important to learn about my world and get to know the people in it.
Be prepared. A committed disciple will never stop growing and learning in Christ. I can keep my spiritual and physical muscles strong. Read that Bible, listen to that sermon, and be in church when the doors are open. Join a small group and combine all of the spiritual gifts in that group to build unstoppable teams. Train for those rescues that will occur and stay sober of mind and spirit.
Be in constant search for the hurt and lost. Stay tuned-in to hear the cries for help and to recognize the signs of danger. Use technology as a force multiplier and ask daily for discernment from the Holy Spirit to lead me to people and their needs. Remove those concerns in my own life that serve only to block my reception of the faintest of distress signals.
Run toward the suffering and unchurched offering help, encouragement, and the peace of the Gospel. Don’t just try to draw people to the church. The first action verb of our mission in Matthew 28:18-20 is “go” – so go out and get them. Yes, I abhor what social media has become, but that’s where the people are. So suck it up and get back out there. Find places on line and in town to get involved with unchurched people and take the love and grace of Christ with me. Be ready to drop what I am doing, anytime day or night, to answer the bell.
Remember the light I carry is to be shone on others, not on myself. Like Paul, set aside interest in my own comfort, safety, security – even be prepared to give my life – so others can be rescued, and as he demonstrated, “be all things to all people, so I might save some.”
Two verses later, in verse 24, Paul inspires us to press on with these words:
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.
I do not claim to know what that prize will be, but for me, I hope it will be walking through the gates of Heaven to find a long line of rescued souls waiting anxiously to throw their arms around my neck and to say “Thank you! – to me and to the One who sent me.
One of my very favorite songs is Lauren Daigle’s, “Rescue.” Perhaps, we can get Jamel to let Hailey Neely sing this song one Sunday. This is the last chorus of that song:
I will send out an army;
To find you in the middle of the darkest night, it’s true;
I will rescue you.
I will never stop marching;
To reach you in the middle of the hardest fight, It’s true;
I will rescue you.
Below is a link to this song for those who have not heard it.
That army she sings about…that’s us. As we carry out our mission to make disciples, we can never forget that every act of discipleship always begins with a rescue mission. As the Light of Jesus Christ, our church will be the spiritual first responder for our community, and – as we know from our own experience - that light we bring with us is the only one that can pierce those darks nights of the soul.
Grace and Peace, my friends.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6xJxeaHODo