This is the Captain of Your Ship…
Five Rules to Remember when Commissioned to Captain a Lifeboat
When I was a kid, I used to watch a lot of TV. It was my mum and dad’s fault. They structured their evenings around the schedule. And so, I watched a lot of adverts with stupid jingles. And one of them stuck in my head and runs through my mind as I type this essay. It was for Müllerice and it was sung by your stomach to your brain. It went, “This is the captain of your ship, calling!” It was telling you that you needed food and not just any food but the tasty product on sale by the company that had commissioned the advert. In a very different sense though, it sort-of fits today too in a manner the advertising gurus never intended.
Sometime during the 1980s, a certain tale became very popular in Christian circles. It was a parable, not dissimilar in nature to those told by Jesus in the Gospels. There are several varieties of the story, often referred to as ‘The Drowning Man’ but the basic outline is as follows:
There is a flood and a man whose house is being submerged under the rising waters. When he is waist-deep in water, a boat comes along and the captain shouts to him, “Come on, jump in and be saved!” But the man is a Christian, so he refuses, stating that he believes in God and so trusts in God to save him instead. The waters continue to rise and now the entire lower floor of the house is submerged, and the upper storey is partly inundated. Another boat comes along and the captain shouts for him to come aboard. Again, he refuses, citing his faith in God. Yet the waters rise more and now the man is perched on the apex of his roof with the waters churning all around. A third boat comes with the same offer but, as before, he refuses, trusting in God to rescue him.
The man drowns and ascends up to heaven. When he meets God, he reacts angrily, saying, “I believed in You and prayed to You and trusted that You would rescue me, yet You let me get drowned. What sort of God are you?”
To which the Lord replies, “I sent three boats, mate, what more did you want?”
That story has come into my mind quite frequently over the last year. As I have written about in other essays, in 2022 I befriended a girl, S, who lives a very controlled life, suffering a litany of abuse. She’s a wonderful person who does not deserve such treatment, and so I have tried to improve her lot through friendship and offering concrete opportunities for a better life were she to leave her current, abusive, household. She, however, for a number of reasons, refuses to do so, despite her unhappiness as things stand. Which has made me think of the boat sent by God and the man who refuses to get in it due to his stubbornness and misunderstanding of the Divine Plan.
Reflecting on the story, there is one salient fact that amazes me. There are, in essence, five characters in the story: the drowning man, God and the three boat captains. However, if you were to ask any listener as to which character they focus upon, which they see themselves as, it is almost always the drowning man. The only exception is the few who, for whatever reason, choose to see themselves in the God role, providing or creating opportunities for those in dire need. Strangely though, no one ever seems to identify with the captain of the boat, which is strange when, if you consider it, statistically, you are three times as likely to be a captain than either the drowning man or God.
Ever since I’ve been friends with S, I’ve found myself identifying with the captain more and more, and thinking about the role and its consequences. And the thing is, this is a valuable thought exercise because it is a role that, in one way or another, we will probably end up taking on at some time in our lives and, far from being a bit player whose actions are somewhat automatic — a NPC in gaming terminology — the captain role is a crucial one and, one that can have serious consequences for the person taking it.
I’ll give you an extreme example. Years ago, I worked in prisons. In one of the prisoners, I met a nice man from Sheffield. He used to be homeless and struggling with an alcohol addiction. God took pity on him (well, this is one way of looking at things) and sent along a boat to rescue him. This boat came in the form of a faith-driven elderly Methodist lady who invited him into her house and fed and clothed him. Whilst, unlike S or the drowning man in the story, he did not refuse the offer of help, once there he got violently drunk, robbed her, and then killed her. The next day when the police came to pick him up, he had no recollection of what had happened.
Lesson Number 1: If captaining a boat, keep yourself safe. God may or may not have sent you but do be careful about who you let onboard.
Or, as the Muslims say, ‘Trust in Allah for everything, but don’t forget to tie up your camel.’
The second lesson came on the Camino Frances. I was walking with an American couple and the wife was talking to me about her husband. “The problem is, he works too hard. He burns out. He needs a rest. He’s retired now but he never takes a break, instead doing every job going for the church. Can you have a word with him?”
So, I did. “Why do you do it?” I asked.
“Well, if Jesus asks, who am I to say no?” he replied.
“But is it Jesus asking or the Church?” I countered. “Because they are not the same thing. The Church aims to follow Jesus but is a manmade institution and has the faults of mankind. They need a job doing and you’re the guy who will never say no. But is the guy who won’t say no the best man for the job? Is he the one that Jesus has chosen or the one that the Church finds the most convenient? I don’t know the answer to that, but you will do if you think about it.”
He did think about it and decided to cut down on the church duties and enjoy life more.
Lesson Number 2: Are you captaining the boat because God wants you too, or because someone else (or yourself) has convinced you it’s your job? And if the latter, should you be doing it?
Even so, there are times when we feel that we have been given a task to complete, a boat to pilot. Such as me with S. I have no doubt that I was told to sail a boat and that my task was to get her to climb into it. That is certain, the rest though, is less clear.
What does getting in the boat mean? Taking her example, the obvious solution is she leaves her life where there is abuse and starts afresh. Sounds great, but how, where, what? And to abandon your home, family, community, possibly even faith is hard. That doesn’t make the task any less real, but it does mean you as the captain should sit and reflect. The pious Methodist in Sheffield managed to get the homeless man to climb into the boat, but what she had not worked out was where to steer it next. Because you can be sure that God’s plan was not for her to get murdered in her own home. And reflection takes time and patience.
Lesson Number 3: Don’t assume that you know the end goal of your mission. Take time and reflect before acting.
And then there is the big issue. The drowning man that won’t climb in. Like S. You sail out to them, you hold out your hand, but they stubbornly refuse to accept the help. You plead with them even as the waters start to cover them, but they still say no. You sail off a failure, knowing that you have condemned them.
It’s hard. You feel a failure. What was the point? Why me when someone else might have succeeded? You run over their fate in your mind, replaying things, how you could have done it different, produced that magic spark that could have convinced them. It’s all your fault! You are useless!
Except that it isn’t true. It isn’t your fault, it is theirs. Humans are complex creatures, but they do have free will.[1] And that person has exercised theirs, for better or for worse, wisely, or stupidly. Whatever happens to them is their fault, not yours, and so long as you tried your best, that is all you need to worry about. The fact is, statistically, you will fail. In the story there is 100% failure rate. Take a different scenario: a driving test. Most people fail first time, countless fail multiple times. Does that mean all driving instructors are useless? No.
Lesson Number 4: If you fail, don’t worry. It’s not your fault.
And so that is it… except that it isn’t. Because we have missed out one crucial aspect of this whole subject: God’s commissions are always a two-way street. When you are tasked with supporting someone, God has an outcome for you in mind as well as them. Yes, they will be transformed, but so will you. And that outcome often only becomes apparent much later. When walking the Camino, I was helped by a lady called Jacquie on the climb up to Orisson. The outcome for me (the passive party — as she stopped to help me not me asking her) was clear: she got me up the hill. But as we walked on afterwards and she opened up about her life, I was able to support her with some of the life experience and skills that I had garnered. It worked both ways, and the fact that we are still friends despite living on opposite sides of the globe is proof of that.
Similarly, with S. Thus far, I have failed to entice her into the boat (though I have helped her make changes to her life for the better). But her presence in my life has given me multiple benefits. I understand her culture and community better which has helped me in my day job when I work with people from those backgrounds; through her I have made new friends and strengthened existing bonds; she has caused my writing — particularly poetry — to blossom out of all proportion and, working with her has made me understand the need for patience, something that does not come naturally to me.
And above all that, she has become a dear and beautiful friend who it is simply fun to spend time with.
And so, to all of you who one day will become the captain of a ship sailing out to support another, here is the fifth and final lesson:
Lesson Number 5: Prepare to be transformed, challenged, and rescued yourself.
Written 14/06–08/072023 Smallthorne, UK
Copyright © 2023, Matthew E. Pointon
[1] The amount we have is up for debate, but that is a topic for another day.