Sailors Analogy on Life

Lord you know my past, current and future! As the Son of a Son of a Sailor, I was crafted with the help of a drunken sailor who had nothing to do with me. You took the broken pieces of the hull and allowed me to sail along. Although you could have fully repaired my hull, but I took the rudder and went out on the sea for Adventure. Expanding my view like a captain with my crew, I began the life of a pirate. I experienced many of the worldly pleasure, ladies from distant shores, beverages and spices to numb the internal struggle.
Externally, I appeared to have it all! My boat was sleek and nimble; I would trim it for speed and strength. Navigating the waters like the HCMS Bras D’Or 400, (Canadian War Ship) leaving the fallen in my wake. It appeared like all of the right things were coming to pass. My crew came along and we continued our pirating ways corrupting and pillaging the sea of its treasures. Like Captain Jake Sparrow, we evaded armada and if were captured we evaded “The Hold”. “On to more adventures” I would cry out, with my ship of thieves. The calm seas did not appeal to me, I needed more and I was determined to get it no matter the cost.
Internally my ship was slow. My hull was now filled with my sins/burdens including the sins/burdens of my crafters. The rogue waves were stronger now and caught me ill-equipped to recover from it blows. My sail was tattered, hull covered with the barnacles of my sin and taking on water as I sunk into more discouragement. My trusty crew began to disappear; some came to the light and settled in a distant land. Other mates, out of despair, walked the plank. I saw their pain and hopelessness in the Pirate’s life but I took it as desertion or treason. Just like the Father Crafter who deserted me many years before. I did not need them! I became busy trying to find my next treasure trove then hide it so it would not blemish my image as a Sailor. I tried to build a new crew, but it was not the same. I grew tired of the eternal struggle of hate and bitterness. The days began to run into the next, more Maidens led to more territory battles. Battles led to booze and more bitterness and when the booze was not enough, the spices were a sweet release from the self-induced scurvy in my life.
I needed release from my internal prison. The North Star began to fade in with all of the others. I could no longer determine my heading and my GPS was broken. My rudder was worn to the nub due to my continually fight against the Gales now known as the Holy Spirit’s leading. Now my speed boat had become a life boat, a mere vessel without purpose, allowing me to float along in the sea.
Auspicious trade winds sent a fellow pirate into my lane; I could see a sailor with the same scars of a life at sea. However, this sailor was different, he had his baring’s straight and true. This pirate sent to me by a Northern Gale spoke life into me. My heart was softened and I no longer sought to pilot my own ship. He challenged my Pirating ways and the damage I left in the past. He showed me a future which could change a generation or even more. Thanks are to the salty sailor who had the courage to heed the gentle wind and spread the good news. I was able to see my North Star again. My sail was fully repaired and strong, the tears were passionately mended and my Hull was no longer covered in Barnacles and taking on water. I was given a new rudder and the oars were put away.
I did not keep the oars put away for long, even though my boat was made new, I did not deal with the struggles of a pirates life. I was graciously forgiven, but I believed my life preserver would keep me from hell. The waves of my faith continually toss me to and fro. As the pruning process continued, I begged for relief of my old ways and one by one, my North Star freed me from the dangerous storms. I now am living more content with the speed of my sail boat. I still struggle with continually seeking the calm winds and safety of the North Star, but I am become increasingly aware of his presence and opening my life to its leading.
Where it all ends, I can’t fathom, my friends, if I knew I might toss out my anchor. So I’ll cruise along, always search for peace, not a vixen, revenge or addictions.
I’m just a son of a son, son of a son, son of a son of a Sailor. The sea’s in my veins, my condition remains, I’m just glad I can live with my savior!
(Story written with Jimmy Buffet song in mind)