…. guide me in…
I don’t know of many New Englander who are not intrigued with lighthouses in some form or fashion. Some are obsessed and fill their homes with plates and table clothes, snow globes and placemats. I’m not talking about that. They capture or imagination, all of us, in some way.
There is something intrinsically noble about them as they sit perched atop a precipice, shining a beacon into the dark, sounding the alarm when sight fails. They comfort us with assurance that there is something in the dark watching over us.
As Romantic as they may be, they do serve a very real purpose, some of which has been lost to time. Back in the day the light keeper would sound an alarm calling a recuse crew who would rush to the beach with long spools of rope then charge into the maelstrom to save sailors from death.
Safety, purposeful, built to withstand waves taller than themselves.
The full-glory of a lighthouse can never be seen from the safety of shore.
..that can only be grasped when in the grips of as near-certain death rages all around you… above you in the winds and lightning and rain, around in the waves washing over your deck driving you into rocks, and under you in depths of a hungry watery grave with mouth wide open.
But there is more to them… they don’t simply keep us from danger, but guide us to the stillness of a save-haven.
I often find myself sitting in the vast life-ocean rising and falling with the swell and the tide. My sailing log is filled with pages of mirror-glass days mixed with vomit-inducing tempests.
yet, I am here today, writing this, and giving all thanks and honor to The God Who Sees… and my testimony is simply this; I am alive today.
Keep listening to the horn, and head towards the light…. The passage has been charted for us, the way is clear, the harbor is safe, and there is refuge for all who seek it.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?”
Psalm 27:1