“Aye, Calypso…”

“Aye, Calypso…”

When I was a much younger man, I used to pop in my eight-track tape (I only had one at the time), roll down the windows of my 64 Chevy Impala, and crank up the volume to song number four— “Calypso.” I’ve always been a sucker for a good seafaring tune or shanty. “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” and “Come Sail Away,” and today “Soon May the Wellerman Come” are some favorites that will make me stop, smile, and slap my thigh with the beat.

Several years back, I gave my wife Scuba lessons as a gift. She is a natural fish if any human can be considered that. She is half human, half mermaid. She takes to the water like a dog to a bone. Me, I’m more of a landlubber, but I do enjoy splashing and puddling in the water. Well, after all the classes, mini exams, and rehearsing in swimming pools, it was time for the big test. Walking into Monterey Bay in a five-millimeter wet suit with a 40-pound scuba tank strapped to your back. The final test was to put on your swim fins while standing in three to four feet of water—waves lapping and slapping against you—while you struggled to not fall face forward into the 52-degree water and drown. I will simply say, not all of us made it the first time. There was a lot of gasping for air, struggling to breathe, and thoughts of “Why the &%#$ am I doing this?!?!” floating freely through the brain.

After a bit of regrouping on the beach, pep talks by the instructor and spouse, there was another attempt made. This time all worked like clockwork. Suddenly, there was freedom. We were no longer slaves to the dirt, but free to swim, and dive, and play with the sea otters and seals in the plankton forest. Never forgetting we were guests in this world, we began to experience life as the natural born creatures of the sea. We saw how easily they glided over the bottom of the ocean, how they could be perfectly still one moment, then dart off into the darkness the next.

Too soon, it was time to surface. We were almost each out of air. As we popped up around our instructor, we all had smiles on our faces. We had done it. We were a small chosen few people who had ever entered the sea, swam with the natural born creatures of that world, and came back up to swim another day.

Something happened that day. The unknown, the natural fear, the mystique of diving for long stretches under water and surviving was conquered. Don’t get me wrong, there is still a healthy respect for your equipment, the buddy system, and making sure all is in good working condition. I would never be so fool hearty as to say,” I can do it on my own! I don’t need no stinkin’ scuba tanks!” Nope. That would be stupid. That day, an even greater respect for the unknown was born—knowing this is a different world—full of creatures and geography, and weather elements all its own.

When we look at the apostles in Mark, we can see they didn’t have the privilege that we had. They had never had scuba tanks on their back. They didn’t have scuba buddies in case someone went over the side of the boat. They didn’t have a ship to shore radio to tell them of an oncoming storm, or to call for help.

The sea in the bible has always represented the wide and dangerous world at large. In Revelation, we see the beasts, “rising out of the sea,” and “peoples, multitudes, nations, and tongues.” We see Jesus telling his Disciples that he will make them, “Fishers of men” in this vast, very dangerous, ocean of humanity. They will throw out their dragnets and capture every creature in the sea. Every age, sex, race, class, and intelligence.

The sea is a scary place. But as the book of Job tells us, God has “shut the sea within its doors.” He has “set limits for it and fastened the bar of its door.” And when the Apostles were int eh middle of the sea, the storm raging all around them, scared that they would be tossed into the unnatural world of the sea and drown. They woke Jesus and he “rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ’Quiet! Be still!’” and it was.

We, you and I, live in this sea—together. We are tossed about by the storms and in the waves every day. We are all trying to put on our swim fins with a 40-pound tank strapped to our backs every day. But how often do we show the faith in the gear? How often do we have faith that God is the guard at the door, keeping the sea at bay? How often do we ask ourselves the question Jesus asked in the boat, “Why are you terrified? Do you not have faith?”

So, go. Listen to some sea-breeze tunes and sniff the salty air! Experience the world. But use the scuba gear God gave you—faith.

“Cylipso”: https://youtu.be/q3EE83q6tzw

“Wreck of the Edmund Fitgerald”: https://youtu.be/FuzTkGyxkYI

“Come Sail Away”: https://youtu.be/e5MAg_yWsq8

“Soon May the Wellerman Come”: https://youtu.be/qP-7GNoDJ5c