So on the way in I was listening to a song by Andrew Peterson…hopefully by now you will have realized I have nothing new to say and thus you should always seek my sources. The song reminded me of my childhood. My Dad’s parents live on the Mississippi (said miss-SIP-ee) Gulf coast in a little town called Gautier (said go-SHAY). I grew up visiting them and taking these fantastic excursions out to little islands in the Gulf of Mexico.
As a boy saw these trips as great adventures, journeying across the ocean to small deserted island to explore. Little did I realize as a small boy that these 8 to 10 mile trips out to Horn or Petit Bois Island would be seen by some as small fishing excursions, for to me they were nothing less than my own Magellan-esque adventures. I remember that my Maw Maw collected pictures and sculpture of lighthouses that could be seen around the house and I remember being fascinated by the whole idea of needing a tower with a light in the top to find my way to shore.
Looking back I realize that in many ways I am still that little boy in the boat, but that unlike the trips I took as a child with my Paw Paw manning the helm and my Dad to keep watch over me, I have my own children to watch over. And unlike the calm sunny days on the water I spent as a child, life has brought an ever growing storm such that I am far beyond the depth of my nautical skill. Life and seafaring have so much in common. There is so little we have control over in life. There are so many things that can go wrong. I can begin an adventure on a sunny day and find myself tossed on the waves of a stormy night.
So what is to be done? This is where the lighthouse comes in. In even the most stormy night there is hope so long as the lighthouse can be seen. The lighthouse of my life is the Gospel and Christ are the keepers of the flame. I am blessed that no matter how dark the night or stormy the weather, He keeps the flame alight in my soul. He keeps the hope going that there is rest and safe harbor. And I am thankful that when I turn my back on the hope of the Gospel that even then the poets are so very wrong. I am not the captain of my fate, nor the master of my soul. I am not even at the helm. Christ is there guiding back to the light of the Gospel even then, when I have completely given up.