Adrift

I had a great view yesterday from my 7th floor hospital room window of Hurricane Idalia striking the river here in Charleston. There are a number of marinas on the shoreline, and all the boats in the slips seemed to be doing reasonably well. However, the sailboats anchored in the channel were having a rough go of it. I think the three closest to the mouth of the river were having the worst of it, bouncing in white caps and what appeared to be 4-6' waves, due to the long fetch of the wind. The first was rolling deeply like it had significant water in the bilge. and maybe too short an anchor line. As a wave hit it, the nose would dive into the wave like a surfer, and white water would wash the deck. The second was riding high like it had very little ballast, and porpoising like a Coast Guard motor life boat crossing the Columbia River Bar. The third appeared to have capsized.

Further down the river, a large power boat was dragging anchor and slowly and inexorably being pushed down-wind, until it became entangled with a much smaller sailboat- maybe a third its size? Then BOTH boats were drifting down-river. Eventually, the boats came apart, the small sailboat's anchor seated itself, and the powerboat continued to drift until it was out of site.

The next hospital building over from me has a heliport on the roof for the Life Flight helicopters to drop off the critically ill for the emergency room. That windsock was going crazy, jerking randomly to all points of the compass. North! NO SOUTH! East! NORTH! West! NO, NO!!! NORTH!!! It reminded me of a game of tetherball between bulked up and overly competitive players who are determined to pound it as hard as a beach volleyball player spikes the ball over the net. A brutal sport...

I was once like that heliport air-sock, being blown in every direction. I grew up in a Christian home and went to church with my family every time the doors were open. This meant Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night. My parents also went on Tuesday or Thursday nights to church visitation. I attended Christian Schools K-12, sang in the choir, memorized Bible verses, and "got saved" at vacation Bible school when I was probably 6 or 7 years old. I prayed a prayer asking Jesus to forgive my sins and come into my heart. I suddenly felt amazing! The grass was green, the sky was blue, and I loved God! I got baptized in a cold lake in northern Michigan soon after that. This was well and good. But then I got religious...

By the time I got to high school, my Christianity had become defined by what I DIDN'T do. It was all about following the rules, baby. THAT's what made you a good Christian, in my circle. If someone asked, "Why don't you do drugs/ drink alcohol/ have sex with your girlfriend, etc." I always had two answers in my pocket. Either "I'm a Christian," or "It's against the rules. These two answers were good for all questions involving morality.

But then I went from a tiny Christian school with 13 in my graduating class to Texas A&M University with 43,000 undergraduates. Even worse, I joined the Corps of Cadets, which really made life miserable. Imagine boot camp, except all year long, AND you have to go to class too, just like a regular student who has not a care in the world. By the end of the first semester, my life was a mess. I was close to failing out of the University, I was a sorry excuse for a cadet, and I failed my US Air Force physical because of asthma. This was devastating, because in third grade, I had read the book "God is My Co-Pilot" buy Col. Robert L. Scott (Ret.) about the American Volunteer Group in China, the Flying Tigers. From that day on, my life goal was to become a fighter pilot. Failing this physical meant my dream was gone. This was the only reason I was there in the first place. My life was a wreck and my head was spinning just like that windsock. What do I do?!? Where do I go?!? Why am I here! I made a 1.0 that first semester. I was so depressed over the physical that I never turned in my last English paper, turning a C into an F. Not helpful. I went home to my family at Christmas in a royal funk.

One Sunday morning, the pastor at my parent's church asked the congregation a stupid question. "Who here believes the Bible? Raise your hands." Pretty much the whole congregation did. Duh. But then he said, "You SAY you believe the Bible, but have you read it? Cover to cover?" I suddenly realized I hadn't. So out of intellectual honesty, I grabbed a reading plan, and things I read started to jump out at me. So I started keeping notes in a notebook, which many years later morphed into a true journal. It became a pleasure for me, rather than just a to-do list checkbox, and I started reading double, then triple. But what I didn't notice was that my life was changing. I became a good cadet, made a 3.46 GPA the second semester, which DOUBLED my cumulative GPA to 2.001, and got me of Scholastic Probation. Ha HA! Thank you God.

During this time period, God also hooked me up with The Navigators, a non-denominational Christian ministry that is active on campuses. My father had been a part of Navigators when he was a cadet at the Coast Guard Academy. God brought friends along beside me-- other cadets, who discipled me and truly challenged me about my faith and my Christian walk. AND they outranked me, which made it easer to get time off for discipleship meetings. But it also made it much harder to bluster when they challenged my trite answers to hard questions. Go God! I started to relate to Jesus differently too. I had related to him before like I relate to George Washington. I BELIEVE in the historical figure George Washington, founder of our country. I visited his home. I read of his exploits. I believe in him. But we're not friends. I can talk about him for hours. (Okay, maybe half an hour), but we're NOT friends. But gradually, I found myself relating to Jesus, not as a historical figure-- but as an intimate friend. Totally different.

To use the boats I saw in the harbor today as an analogy, the boats anchored alone in the channel were at risk. But the boats in the marina were fine because they were together and tied with multiple lines to the dock. And the dock itself was anchored with multiple plies, probably concrete. It wasn't going anywhere. So neither were the boats. That first semester, my anchor of rules-based-Christianity was slipping and I was spiritually adrift. I had become as mentally directionless as that battered windsock at the heliport. But I started reading the Bible and these Navigators brought me from going it alone at the mouth of the channel, to the safe harbor of the marina and other like vessels. There is much more of my story to tell, but it will keep for another time.

So my question for you is, what's your status? 'Going it alone with your anchor dragging, or are you in safe harbor with other believers? Is your windsock steady, or is your direction changing as quickly as the tetherball? How about pick up a Bible and start reading it? The Gospel of John in the New Testament is a good place to start. Message me if you get lost in a passage. If I can't explain it, I will help you find someone who can. I can be reached on Facebook Messenger if we're Facebook friends, or through commenting on a blog post on www.PeteCox.org . Start reading, and then moor your vessel in a local safe harbor with other like minded believers. (I mean a local church, not just watching a TV preacher on Sunday morning.) Become part of a local church body. It's just better together! I Promise.

I would love to hear your story!

Where is your windsock pointing, and is it steady?