Captain’s Log
August
21
My course is eastward though I do not know
the exact heading. I have been at sea for six days now since
leaving Hawaii. My meeting with Charles and the two days I
spent with him have left me confused. My profession has not
been without hazards and I have seen men die in many ways.
But I have never seen a person face death with such a look
of contentment as did Charles.
The words of my lady friend continue to
bother me. They are a small, still voice in my ear that will
not go away. Each time I open the Bible, I find confirmation
of what she said. It is everywhere I read: Life, the Baptism
of the Holy Ghost, tongues, sinlessness, perfection, no death.
Especially this perfection. It is throughout the New Testament,
over and over again. It changes everything I have ever believed.
I now believe that a person can, indeed, be without sin and
therefore, perfect. I have searched it out and found it in
the Bible. There is a great truth that man has somehow overlooked.
Jesus himself said, “Be ye perfect, even as your
Father in heaven is perfect”. Why haven’t
I heard of this before?
The Bible has become like a friend to me.
In it, I find comfort and peace. All these years since Mom
passed away, I have kept it simply as a memento, not knowing
the truth it held.
Captain’s Log
August
30
I feel the need to hear more of what my lady
friend spoke to me when we first met. Several times a day
I realize that I am thinking more about her than what I am
doing. I remember her green eyes and the way they twinkled
when I snatched the picture taken in Manila. Her golden blond
hair seemed to shine with a light of its own. I try to tell
myself that this is crazy; and yet, I feel compelled to seek
her out.
As I continued toward the west coast, I spied
a large luxury yacht westward bound. On its stern was the
name of its home, Portland. Normally, I would think nothing
of it, but its name became visible to me: Johnnie J. I felt
a lump in my throat; a heaviness in my heart. Why must I be
reminded of my lost son once more? Somehow, I must put them
behind me and let the old memories die. Once and for all.
Watching it continue westward, the name of
its homeport reminded me of my lady friend’s destination.
She had told me to look her up in Portland. What was the name
of that church? Ah, yes, the Church of Jesus Christ of the
Firstborn. Right then and there, I made a decision. I will
go there.
Captain’s Log
September
5
My course is now northward along the California
coast toward Portland. One hundred fifty miles out.
The weather has turned increasingly worse.
There are large thunderheads on the horizon and a stiff breeze
that smells of rain. Severe storm warnings are out, but I
must stay on course. To try to go around it could take days,
perhaps even weeks.
I have handled many a storm before. "Reason"
did very well in the storm off South America and the other
two, but this one is threatening. I have battened everything
down, prepared my inflatable raft. I sent off, via the ship
to shore radio, my position and heading. There is nothing
more to do but continue onward…and pray.
It is becoming too rough for me to continue
writing. I will store my log with my Bible in a waterproof
pocket of the raft. I pray God will keep them and me safe.
I have not seen such a storm in a long time.
Captain’s Log
September
6
This is the saddest entry into this log.
I am writing while adrift in my inflatable raft. "Reason"
is lost.
The size of the swells increased steadily,
cresting at twenty feet or more, crashing down on my "Reason"
with all the ferocity the sea could muster. Near hurricane
force winds made it extremely difficult to keep "Reason’s"
bow pointed into the wind.
I felt my vessel, hit by another monstrous
wave, shudder and suddenly, I lost all steering control. My
rudder was gone, broken by the force of the waves. Immediately,
she began to swing sideways to the oncoming waves. The next
wave struck her with a crash that sounded like a cannon shot.
She heeled over until her railings were under water before
finally coming back. I had to hang onto the wheel with all
my strength to keep from going over. For a moment, I thought
she would come about and face the attacking waves head on.
She did indeed, for a short minute there, begin to turn. But
she was hit by yet another towering wave that broke her mast
with an explosive crack and I knew she was doomed. With the
weight of her mast and sail adding to the water already pushing
her down, "Reason" began to heel to starboard on
the verge of capsizing. I saw another monster wave coming.
I had no choice but to trigger my locator beacon, untie the
inflatable and abandon my stricken vessel. I immediately lost
the raft: the wind and waves snatched it out of my grasp and
I landed in the water supported only by my life vest. I have
never felt myself so at the mercy of the sea.
It was all I could do to keep my head above
water. I managed to turn back to see my vessel quickly succumb
to the raging sea. One moment she was there, the next she
was gone. I searched in all directions for my raft but there
was no sign of it. I would have to rely on my vest to keep
me afloat until I was rescued.
Within a few hours, the storm had lived out
the last of its life and I began to see blue skies overhead.
The seas were reduced to an occasional oversized swell. Still,
I saw no sign of my raft. So weary was I that I was ready
to give in to the sea. It was then that something brushed
the calf of my leg.
My thoughts were of a shark out for a quick
meal. But what met my eyes sent a chill down my spine. Not
twenty feet from me, a barracuda of immense proportions circled,
his beady eyes surveying me. Attacks on humans by these vicious
creatures are rare. But those few that have survived such
an attack have stated that these demons do not stop at a single
bite like a shark does. Once provoked, a barracuda continues
mauling its prey until there is nothing left but a tangled
mass of meat.
I watched as he circled warily for several
moments before turning once more toward me. I gripped my knife
as he aimed his head at me, and like lightning, he hit; but
he veered off at the last moment, brushing my shin as he passed.
A small stream of blood spurted out. I knew he was only toying
with me before he launched a real attack. It was a giant barracuda
– five feet or longer. Fear gripped my throat like a
tight strap. I breathed harder, my pulse racing in my head
and chest.
Then I remembered.
I lifted my face upward and, at the top of
my lungs, cried out, “God, if you are real, save me!”
I watched, knife ready as he drew closer, his long arrow body
tensed and ready to kill. His single eye was black, and looking
– sideways – straight at me. I shuddered, and
under my breath, pleaded, “I have need of you, God.
Let me be ready to face you. But if I live, let me know it
is you that has saved me.” Before I could finish, as
quickly as the barracuda had appeared, he turned and swam
away. For a long moment I waited, unbelieving, expecting him
to come back. Instead, he continued to swim away until he
was gone. I was astounded. Why had he turned? Why had he broken
off his attack? It made no sense!
That’s when I recalled my cry. God
had answered me. He had saved me. Then something bumped into
my shoulder and a sudden fear welled up in me. I thought he
had come back! I turned to find myself staring at my raft.
My raft. My orange raft. Another miracle!
Captain’s Log
September
9
I have been in Portland at the Coast Guard
infirmary, where I am recuperating from my time adrift.
While adrift, I had looked back on my journey
and realized how God had caused me to encounter the woman
in Panama and again in Manila, to talk with Jorgenson and
Diego, to find Charles and hear his final words. A feeling
of peace and contentment overcame me like nothing I have ever
felt before. My current situation, the loss of "Reason",
all the losses in my life, became insignificant. I was aware
only of a sense of well being that reached into my deep thoughts,
into my very soul. Lying there in my raft, I had lifted my
eyes to the heavens with tears streaming down my face, and
thanked God for all he had done. I knew that I wanted all
of God. I acknowledged that Jesus is my Savior; that he died
for me. I asked Jesus for his life, not mine. I prayed he
would give me the Baptism of the Holy Ghost, which would lead
me into all truth. I fell asleep.
An hour later, the words that issued from
my stuttering lips made no sense to me, like gibberish, and
yet I did not care. I only knew that they were right, that
I was right with God. I knew I was forgiven of all I had ever
done wrong. I knew this was tongues. I knew I was receiving.
He said ask, and I asked.
Only the approach of the Coast Guard helicopter
brought some sense of the present. It hovered directly over
me, the downdraft of its rotors nearly pinning me to the bottom
of the raft. A rescue diver lowered himself and asked if I
was OK. So at peace was I, that all I could do was smile and
nod.
During the trip to the Coast Guard base,
I told him of my journey. I wanted to be silent about the
miraculous things I had experienced; would he understand?
I could not help myself. I finished my story as we approached
the coast. The young guardsman, who had listened so intently,
then told me that he was a Christian, baptized in the Holy
Ghost and following the Lord with all his heart. Upon arriving
at the base, my rescuer accompanied me to the base infirmary
where I was admitted overnight for observation.
Captain’s Log
September
10
When I left the clinic this morning, I found
my rescuer with a car waiting for me. He continued to help
me, filling out paperwork and insurance forms for the loss
of "Reason", even taking me to his apartment for
dinner and offering me a bed for the night. I will not forget
his kindness and hope someday to find a way to repay him.
But for now, I am too tired to think of anything. And too
happy to forget why I have come here.
Captain’s Log
September
12
Though I am no more a captain, no more at
sea, I will continue to keep my log as I have for years. I
have chronicled this journey from the first day and, it appears
to be not over yet. When it is, I will close the cover and
put it aside. I reluctantly bid farewell to the fine young
guardsman who had helped me so, assuring him that I will stay
in contact. I am rested and ready to seek a particular church
and my lady friend.
After a lengthy search, I found the church
just outside the city limits. In the sanctuary, I found an
older man, Pastor J. Sydney Waters. As I approached him, he
turned with a look of apprehension on his face. He asked if
he could help me and I told him I was looking for a certain
lady. I took the picture from my pocket and handed it to him.
He seemed to relax as he looked at it and said, yes, he had
seen her. She had arrived here from Manila a couple of months
ago. She had mistaken this church for another. Unfortunately,
he did not know the one she was looking for. Nor did his wife,
who had now joined us. They said my friend had stayed for
quite a while. She had mentioned me. Only a few days ago,
she had received an e-mail from a friend who wanted to meet
her at a revival in St. Louis.
My disappointment must have shown on my face.
He put his hand on my shoulder and asked if there was anything
else he could do to help me. He apologized for seeming a little
cautious when I first approached him. He had been going through
a rough time himself; he had received several threats from
unknown individuals concerning his church. It seemed that
not everyone in Portland agreed with his beliefs.
As he removed his hand, he noticed the small
cross I was wearing; the one Charles had given me. He asked
me where I had gotten it and I replied, "From an old
friend on his death bed." He asked if he could see it
and, when I handed it to him, he studied it very intently
for several minutes.
Looking up with tears in his eyes, he asked
me if the man’s name was Charles and if he had been
a sailor. When I, surprised, replied yes, he told me a remarkable
story. He had been a missionary, robbed and stranded in Morocco
some years back. A stranger had helped him immensely. Sydney
had given him this very same cross, handed down from his own
mother. I sat for several moments in amazement as he handed
it back to me. I believe now that God had a specific reason
for leading me to this church. Sydney is that reason. I had
found a new friend.
We talked for an hour or so about Charles,
and my relationship with him and with God. I told him I must
leave for St. Louis as soon as possible. Sydney then graciously
offered to take me to the airport. I accepted.
As he went to his office to retrieve his
car keys, I went outside, bag in hand, to wait for him. No
sooner had the door closed behind me when an explosion rattled
the windows of the church, breaking several. Through a cloud
of smoke, I ran back inside to find Sydney lying on the floor.
Just beyond him, his office was a shambles. He was barely
conscious as I quickly helped him outside where he collapsed
on the grass. I could tell he had several broken bones and
some second degree burns. Possibly a concussion. A crowd quickly
gathered around as I knelt over him. Someone informed me that
911 had been called. A moment later, his wife sat down by
Sydney, near me. I was glad to see she had escaped injury.
She took her husband’s hand.
"Will he be okay?” she asked.
I informed her that he was hurt pretty badly but thought that
he would be all right. A look of relief came over her face
and I knew that there was a real bond of love between the
two. I longed for what they had.
I stayed with them until the emergency crews
arrived and took over. At that point, his wife turned to me
and told me that she would accompany him to the hospital.
But that I had something I had to do. “Go, find your
lady,” she said. “There is nothing more that you
can do here. I will pray for you.”
I left there somewhat hesitantly, torn between
staying with them and continuing on my journey. But Sydney’s
wife was right. There was nothing more that I could do. I
assured her that I would check back on Sydney. I will keep
them in my prayers.
Captain’s Log
September
13
I spent several hours sitting in a cramped
seat on a rather bumpy airplane. I searched my Bible for anything
I could find to help me to know my Savior. One verse that
did strike me I found in
the book of Psalms: Hear me when I call, O God of
my righteousness: thou has enlarged me when I was in distress;
have mercy upon me and hear my prayer. If the writer
of this psalm, King David, could pray to God for help, why
can't I? So, right there on that plane as it taxied toward
the gate, I prayed that God would help me find my lady.
Once we had disembarked, I raced as fast
as I could through the airport. My lady could be anywhere,
but I know God can lead me to her, just as he had back in
Manila. In the seat of a taxi, I decided to make my way to
a hotel and from there, begin my search. My eyes fell on a
newspaper left behind by a previous passenger. In one small
corner of the page to which it was opened, there was an article
about an out of town minister speaking at a revival ending
today. I was skeptical, but I immediately instructed the driver
to proceed to the church in question.
As it turned out, it was only about two miles.
My driver waited for another cab to vacate a parking spot
directly in front of the church. A dark haired man entered
the cab, its rear seat already occupied by a woman. Turning
to the woman, he smiled and helped her straighten her coat.
They seemed so close. Probably his wife. A yearning tugged
at my heart; to again have love, to belong to someone and
have someone to hold in my arms once more. I wrenched my eyes
from them as their cab pulled away and my own took the parking
spot. I grabbed my bag and ran for the door of the church.
I hoped I would catch my lady here.
Inside, there were only a few people. A person
I took to be the pastor was engaged in a conversation with
several others near the front. My lady was nowhere in sight.
When the pastor approached me, I introduced myself and told
him my reason for being here. Showing him the picture of my
lady friend, I asked if he had seen her. He nodded immediately.
He did remember her. She had been here, having
left only a few moments ago by cab. Instantly, I recalled
the taxi that had vacated the curb just as my own was arriving.
It must have been hers. I had missed her by only a few short
minutes, only a heartbeat!
But then, I remembered the scene as her cab
left. That man! She must be married! Why had she not mentioned
it? All the desires I had felt for her company welled up before
me. I had followed her, in some peculiar way, halfway around
the world only to find that I was in pursuit of an untouchable
dream.
For several moments, I sat there, feeling
lost and in despair. I was almost unaware of the pastor moving
away from me. Despite my new knowledge of this woman being
married, I still longed for more of her words, to understand
better her beliefs. But how could I continue to search for
her? How could I keep following her? I decided that I would
find a hotel and get some rest. Then I would decide on a course
of action.
Captain’s Log
September
14
I confined myself to my hotel room. From
the window I had a magnificent view of the St. Louis Arch.
But I was not interested in sightseeing or in landmarks. I
went without breakfast and lunch, spending my time reading,
wondering. Praying.
Since my experiences after "Reason"
went down, I am a changed man. I still feel a sense of disappointment
knowing my lady friend is married, but I must let it go. I
must let these thoughts of her die. I resolved to learn as
much as I can about God and his Son, forgetting the woman
from Panama, forgetting my losses, forgetting my former life.
There is a goal in my life now, a course for me to follow.
I must know God.
But where do I go from here? I could go back
to Portland, to Sydney. I could go back to Nassau, to Jorgenson.
But there was something more I was looking for than either
of them could offer. There has to be an end of my journey:
something God has planned for me. God will give me direction.
I rose to leave, intending to go out for
dinner, extracting my wallet to check my cash on hand. As
I did, a small slip of paper fell out. What was this? The
paper that Charles had given me! I could hardly read it. How
did it survive my time in the water? On it was written: The
Church of Jesus Christ Forever, Oregon, Illinois.
Captain’s Log
Final
Entry
I am a long way from the sea, a long way
from the beginning of my journey. I began this journey in
despair, my life empty, filled with a sense of hopelessness,
with a dark perception of life. It is now evident to me that
this entire journey was planned for me to alter the course
of my life.
Once I was a man who knew nothing but the
sea and his own place concerning it. I am now a man who thirsts
for an understanding of God. In all my years at sea, I had
kept this Bible as a memento, but I now find it to be a source
of comfort and knowledge, a source of life to me.
I am a man who has traveled the seven seas,
and set my foot on the shores of nearly every land. I have
won in life and, more often, lost. I have experienced nearly
every up and down this life can offer. I have loved the sea
more than anything else. I have commanded a dozen vessels
and served on twice as many more. I have been a man without
equal, a master of my own making, a man of my own desires.
Yet now, I serve a master that I have never
known. I love a Father and his Son who I have spent my whole
life rejecting and denying. And now I find myself in a landlocked
city a thousand miles from the nearest sea. I leave behind
the life that was so important to me and, most of all, the
years of shame, emptiness and guilt.
As I climbed aboard the aircraft in St. Louis
bound for Chicago, I felt that I was undertaking my final
journey. I arrived in the small town of Oregon, Illinois in
the late afternoon of a Sunday. The church was a quaint little
building that looked more like a Swiss chalet. This doesn’t
look like a church. Not even a sign. For a moment, I hesitated.
I proceeded to the door and opened it to find it filled with
men, women, and children all praising God. A man arose and
approached me, his hand held out in greeting. The man from
St. Louis! I recognized the suit and the profile.
“I know you,” I spoke. “I
saw you in St. Louis, leaving that church, stepping into a
taxi with your wife.” He chuckled. “That wasn’t
my wife. I am engaged. But my fiancé is in Australia.
That was my friend.”
Not married?! Not his wife?! My heart leapt!
It grew quiet as I closed the door and all
eyes turned toward me. In the silence, I saw my lady smiling
at me from the midst of the congregation.
“My dear Captain………….what
took you so long?”, she asked as she put out her slender,
immaculately polished hand. Her green eyes sparkled like diamonds
on the sea.
I laughed a deep, wonderful, comfortable
laugh. I knew I was home.
His Study
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