We're Not All in the Same Boat
I ALWAYS wondered how I would leave my mark on my profession. In my early Bible College days I naturally assumed I'd become my generation's Billy Graham and travel the world preaching. Later, when I learned how much I didn't know, I thought maybe I could one day be known as "that guy who steals all of Billy Graham's sermons." Still later, during a short stint working in a lumberyard, I thought it would be nice to be able to sell Billy Graham some boards someday.
These days I'm just happy when I can afford to buy the kids some Teddy Grahams.
Of all the legacies I could have left in this profession, being "that guy who performed the geocaching wedding ceremony" wasn't even on my radar. However, when Mopar and Geo Ho contacted me about marrying them, I thought "Sure! Why not?" I figured I'd fly out to Connecticut, say a few words, make them say a few words, let them have the gratuitous kiss and head back home. No muss no fuss, right?
Now, don't get me wrong, I've done some strange weddings in the past. I remember when a young bride-to-be called me once and nervously asked me to marry her. "I'm already married," I said. Yeah, it was a cheap joke, but it broke the tension. She explained that a good groom had already been found and that she simply wanted me to perform the ceremony. "I'd love to," I replied. That's when she said, "Great, there's only one thing…" Ugh. Those are words you should always look out for.
That was the beginning of "The Biker Wedding," which did go off without a hitch (well…only one hitch, I guess...I mean, they got hitched). Some time after that there was the cowboy wedding, the cop wedding, and the "I guess I forgot to tell you how many other times I've been married" wedding. Personally, I think she could have performed the ceremony herself, she knew it well enough.
I guess what it comes down to is I've done a lot of weddings. I've become very accustomed to knowing what to say and when to say it. I know the ceremony forward and back. I know how to keep most brides' mothers happy and how to keep the best man sober until the reception. Other than the biker wedding, I've seldom feared for my life on a wedding day. Well, that was until GCM0H0.
 For those of you who might not know the whole story, Mopar and GeoHo met at a caching/canoeing event that took them to an island in the Connecticut River. Being the sentimental couple that they are, they wanted to get married on the same island where they had met. As the wedding day approached I was asked to carefully consider whether I wanted to canoe or kayak out to the island. You might as well have asked me if I preferred asphyxiation to being blown up. Yeah, I was more than a little apprehensive. I've never canoed before and everyone I know who has seems to have the same story. Sooner or later the canoe tipped over and they were dumped in the water. This wasn't something I was really looking forward to.
Lest you think I'm just a landlubber, my father was an avid fisherman who got me hooked (in a good way) at a young age. He raised me around water and taught me a lot about boats. However, this was in Central Illinois. Those waters were all small farm ponds and calm lakes and nothing at all like the Connecticut River. Dad's advice had always been that flat-bottomed boats were the best. They were more stable and less likely to tip on you. Good advice. But it was only good advice for small farm ponds and calm little lakes.
As we were preparing for a short trip around the island I spotted one of the attendees who had a small flat-bottomed bass boat—the little plastic two-seater kind that you see hanging from the ceiling at Wal-mart. "Good!" I thought. "I'm riding with that guy!" His boat was familiar to me and that was pretty comforting.
Familiarity does make us comfortable, doesn't it? It's like comfort food. If your mom brought you up on macaroni and cheese, as an adult in the midst of a crisis a big bowl of mac and cheese will comfort you and bring you a little bit of peace. My mom never made mac and cheese, though. Most of my comfort foods are the kind that you have to kill yourself and many of them come from water. In fact, before I found geocaching, you could pretty much count on finding me fishing. It was therapeutic for me. I often told people I would fish until I couldn't hear the office phone ring any more. So, in the search for comfort far away from home, I opted to ride in a boat that was similar to what I had experienced before.
As it turns out, small farm ponds and calm little lakes are a far cry from the Connecticut River. Don't get me wrong, this is no white water rapid kind of river, it's more of an "I've got a bigger boat than yours" recreational river. It seems to me that a lot of people with more dollars than sense buy big boats and come out to the Connecticut River on the weekends to pilot them in circles. Sort of the grown up equivalent to "daddy won't let me take my 2 wheeler out of the driveway."
Shortly after putting out into the water we spotted a large motorboat coming our way fast, with a huge wake behind it. Thankfully I was riding with an experienced boater—he was even ex-Navy. After letting a little sailor talk fly, he pointed the nose of the little boat into the wake (by the way, I was sitting at the nose of the boat) and as wave after wave hit us, the flat-bottomed boat heaved and slapped back down into the water. But the important thing is, we stayed on top of the water and IN the boat! After that attack we headed back to our destination and continued on until the next motorboat passed…and the one after that…and the one after that. The Connecticut River certainly is a busy place on a Saturday afternoon!
After the third or fourth such event, I began to see the point of V-shaped hulls. Canoes and other boats with that design are made to cut through wakes like that, not ride on top of them. Sure, on a calm farm pond there's really not much point in that V-shape and it just makes you more . . . well . . . "tippy." However, out here with the weekend waterdog wannabes, V-shaped was definitely the way to go. Familiar turned out to be pretty uncomfortable out in those strange waters.
That's the problem with some things that make us feel comfortable. The reality is they don't do much for us. Even our comfort foods—sure, they evoke some fond memories but finish off that bowl of mac and cheese and you're still facing the same reality you were facing before…just cheesier.
I think all of us come to that point in life when the old answers just don't seem to work any more. The things that were always true in the past—things that provided you with stability and comfort—simply didn't work when confronted by new challenges. Maybe it's because your life has moved out of the calm waters and things have gotten a bit choppy. Life can get difficult at times—we're never promised an easy trip.
Jesus said to his disciples, "In this world you will have trouble (John 16:33)." From that we learn that while he's an excellent Savior, Jesus leaves a bit to be desired as a recruiter. He promises us trouble? Who would sign up for that? You have to admit, though, he comes by it honestly. In Isaiah 30:20 God promises that "waters of affliction" will come our way. It sounds to me like somebody brought the wrong boat out to the river!
I think that more often than not the problem isn't the challenges that life brings but the old solutions that don't cut through the wake. I grew up believing that flat bottom boats were best, and in the environment of my home waters that was true. But when life moves you into the big waters it's time to check the stability of those old presumptions.
Thankfully God has built within us the capacity to adapt. And while he never promised us easy times, he has given his promise to lead us through the difficult times. After telling us about the "waters of affliction" that will come in our lives, Isaiah 30:21 goes on to say, "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'"
How often do we get hung up and only respond ONE way to life? How often do we fail to consider other ways of looking at problems, other ways of moving forward? Sometimes we come to a point of crisis and wonder if maybe God has abandoned us. But Isaiah tells us God is right there in the moment of crisis. Maybe he's simply calling us to move out of the safety of the monotonous and take a new path—one that requires a different approach. Isaiah reminds us that when we're faced with that moment of decision God is right there saying, "This is the way; walk in it."
 We couldn't have had a better day out on the island for the wedding. The weather was perfect, the company was wonderful and the bride looked beautiful. The groom could have used a longer kilt. When evening hit and it was time to get back to the mainland, I hopped in a motorboat and sailed back to the dock in mere minutes. The ride was fast, stable and got me where I was going. In other words, I chose the right boat.
You might be facing some rough waters or maybe some situation in your life has changed so much that you just don't know how to find your own way any more. Maybe it's time to take a careful look at what you've always relied on in the past. Maybe it's time to get a new boat.
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