I Don't Believe

The following is an excerpt from In God We Trust . . . but only as a last resort by Daniel Owens (Chapter 6)

I Don't Believe

Bodega Bay in Northern California is famous for being the location for Alfred Hitchcock's movie The Birds, but for me it's a place of adventure. I first dived for abalone off the rocks lining the shore there and discovered the beautiful world under the vast Pacific Ocean. It was also at Bodega Bay that I had my first experience on a charter fishing boat. I was seventeen. What a thrill to jump on board a boat that for once in my life was larger than a ski boat. The boat was complete with a captain and crew and all the stuff one needs for fishing the ocean depths, including food for us to ease the boredom of the long ride out to sea.

It took almost two hours to get to where the captain felt we should be in order to ensure that we would take home our limit of lingcod, rock cod, and sea bass, and who was going to argue with the captain. As we surfed over the gentle waves, many of the men helped themselves to the coffee and pastries included in the day's package. For me, I was happy to stand in the bow and let the wind and the saltwater spray buffet on my body.

Just as we were beginning to feel a bit of restlessness, the big diesel engines died down, and the air became incredibly quiet. An anchor was released to hold our position as the swells moved us around with ease. Now the fun began. Each man began to prepare his fishing gear with care and quiet pride. The bait was made available in big buckets, and it didn't take long for the first salvo of fishing lines to hit the water. Each man found his own place to sit with coffee and pole in hand to wait for the battle to come. I promptly baited my two hooks and let the weights pull my line over the edge of the boat and into the sea. I had never caught fish in the ocean before, and I certainly didn't want to be the last one on the boat to have that thrill.

I had never been this far out into the ocean before. In fact, I had never really ventured out past the bays of Northern California. Even in the exhilaration of the moment I was awed by the amount of water that surrounded us. The shoreline was barely visible.

Our seasoned captain had selected the right spot, and the fish began to take the bait. I hadn't been sitting too long before I felt a pull on my line, and I swiftly yanked on my pole to set the hook. Reeling this first fish in was much harder than I expected. I had forgotten how far down my hooks were and how heavy the sinkers were even without a fish. After many minutes of pulling up my pole, creating slack, and reeling the slack in rapidly, the muscles in my arms were beginning to burn. Just when I thought I might be embarrassed by having to ask for help, the first fish broke the water! It was a large rock cod, fighting to stay in its domain under the sea. Adrenaline kicked in once I saw the fish, and I furiously fought to get it on board quickly. To my amazement, I had a fish on my second hook as well. I landed both fish and was quite proud of what I had just done. I was a deep-sea fisherman!

The boat was filled with laughter, fish stories, and lots of fish. We were having the time of our lives, and no one was in a hurry for the day to end. It seemed to come out of nowhere when the captain yelled, "Cut your lines now!" The gently rolling swells had become steep, wind-driven walls of water that were higher than the captain's housing on the top of the boat. The engines were called upon, and the anchor was put back in its place on board. To the protection of the bay we headed, our trip cut short by a storm we hadn't even seen coming.

The boat that seemed so large and sturdy now seemed uncomfortably small next to the waves that were pitching us this way and that at will. We alternated between being on the very crest of a wave to being in the trough with walls of water on both sides of the boat. Many of the men who had been laughing and eating pastries and other delicacies that their wives had packed for them were now vomiting over the side of the boat. One man who had been in the center of all the hoopla now was huddled in a corner, his face as green as the Grinch.

The sky darkened, the rain shot from the clouds, and the waves grew bigger and bigger. The boat moved at a much slower pace as it fought against the elements, and our two hours coming out turned into about three and a half going in. We all sat there and wondered how much the boat could take and feared that one of those monstrous waves would swamp us. No one dared ask the captain how we were doing for fear that the news would not be good.

Seeing the mouth of Bodega Bay brought an incredible sense of relief. We were soaked, cold, and, let's be honest, terrified! The mood changed back to the levity of the early morning once we were in the safety of the bay. Every man knew this was going to be a story told again and again through the years. My first experience on the ocean was an unforgettable one.

The Gospel of Mark tells the story of a storm I can relate to very well. We find the story unfolding in Mark 4:35-41:

That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, "Let us go over to the other side." Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, and it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, "Teacher, don't you even care if we drown?" He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?" They were terrified and asked each other, "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!"

This story of Jesus and His disciples is not unlike my own. Their day was much like mine, with all the joy and expectations of a great day out on the water. Jesus had said to His disciples, "Let us go over to the other side." Can you picture the disciples telling Jesus not to worry about a thing, that they would take care of getting Him across? In so many words, I think the disciples said, "Go take it easy and leave the driving to us!" They were eager to show Jesus they knew a thing or two about sailing. The sun was shining, the provisions were loaded, and the disciples, who at one time made their living on the water, were feeling at home and loving it.

The Sea of Galilee brings to mind gentle sea breezes, blue water, sunny skies, and families at play. A picture of serenity. However, like America's Great Lakes, that sea can give birth to furious storms. Gordon Lightfoot's song "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" describes in detail the events leading up to the sinking of a massive ship on Lake Superior. The Sea of Galilee has been known to exhibit waves as high as twenty feet when storms appear, seemingly, out of nowhere.

Mark intimates that the events of the next several hours were not due to some irresponsibility on the part of the disciples or their lack or planning. The storm was a complete surprise. Men of the sea commanded the boat. Men who could read the winds and the waves. Men who had been in storms before. But this storm brought the fear of death. I can picture those black thunderclouds, the cold, biting winds, sheets of driving rain, and mountainous waves. And just imagine - this was happening at night ("when evening came"), when all was dark.

Their little boat was being tossed around, bobbing like a toy. Unlike my experience in the Pacific, the disciples were having problems with water in the boat, a sailor's worst nightmare. The small boat would go down into the trough, but before it could back on top of the swell, the wave would break into the boat. Mark says it was "nearly swamped." That phrase means "filled to the full." It didn't look like they were going to make it. There was panic, fear, despair, horror, and hopelessness. This was an impossible situation, one that apparently was about to take their lives.

Then someone got an idea: "Maybe Jesus can help us out!" I'm sure there were skeptics on board. Sure, Jesus could turn water into wine and heal the sick, but what could He do with a storm like this? But gratefully someone thought of asking for His help.

We've all been hit with storms in life. They've come out of nowhere, taking us by surprise. A broken marriage, loss of a job, the death of a child, a debilitating disease. You may be going through a storm at this very moment and are doing everything you can to make it through, to make sense of it all. Here is where I see myself so clearly that it hurts. Did you notice how long it took the disciples to turn to Jesus? I'm sure they tried everything they knew to do in order to save themselves. Finally, when they ran out of ideas, they turned to Jesus. How many times have I done that very thing? The storm comes, I go into action, and in all the commotion I leave God out until the situation is so desperate that I can do nothing except call on Him.

But remembering the presence of Jesus was the beginning to the end of their problem. Once they turned to Jesus, a sense of peace swept over the situation. . . .

During the storms that blast our lives, we are often filled with negative thoughts. We may think God is out to get us or that He is angry with us because we're not living up to His standard. We forget that "God is love," that He cares for us very much, always. I know that my faith in God is a direct result of the intimacy we share together. The closer I am to Him, the more often I share my thoughts with Him, the more time I spend meditating on His Word, the more I will trust Him. Above all else in life, we must keep our relationship with Jesus current.

God bless you,

Dan

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