Every time I read the story of the storm at sea and the disciples in the boat with the sleeping Jesus, I get PTSD.
When I was a young English teacher at a high school in Connecticut, a group of six faculty friends decided to rent a 37-foot Elite and sail from Fort Lauderdale to the Bahamas for spring break. A few of us were seasoned sailors. We had a great two weeks -- sailing around the islands, playing Trivial Pursuit and listening to good music -- and were headed back to Florida.
That’s when the skies darkened and a storm hit.
The Gulf Stream is one of the most powerful ocean surface currents in the world, even on a calm day. We were struggling to keep control of the boat when the wind changed suddenly and Miles, our faculty friend who was serving as captain, got hit in the head with the wildly swinging boom and was knocked unconscious.
We were in the midst of 30-foot swells, thunder and lightning, and driving rain in open ocean. And our captain was unconscious.
Who assumes leadership when everyone is scared to death and wants someone else to take charge? Who would assume leadership and literally save us? What happened was that, without discussion, everyone assumed the aspects of leadership that were possible for them.
Dave took the tiller because he was the next best sailor. Robin went below deck because he knew how to work the radio to Mayday for help. Lois held on to Miles for dear life so he wouldn’t be swept away, and Kate staunched the blood coming out of Miles’s ear. Me? I was a pastor’s kid, and I knew how to pray. Plus I was too frightened to move. So I looped my arm through a railing, folded my hands and prayed aloud for us like there was no tomorrow.
Maybe one thing a crisis does is to bring out cooperative leadership. Everyone provides the leadership qualities they are most natively able to give.
I will spare you most of the details of our rescue at sea, except to say that it was almost as harrowing as the accident itself. A Coast Guard chopper, hampered by the storm clouds, finally located us in the churning waters and tried three times to lower a cage onto our boat. Due to the waves, the boat was never still enough to receive the cage without it clobbering us. With heavy hearts we watched the chopper fly away again.
Hours later a Coast Guard cutter made its way to us and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull alongside of our boat amidst the waves. Finally, a nonchalant, muscular sailor in a spotless white uniform leapt from the cutter’s bow onto our stern. With that heart-stopping jump, he was able to assume control of our boat and guide us in to Miami, where ambulances awaited.
Rescues are much easier and faster in the movies. In real life, they can be long and difficult and can require leadership from a whole bunch of people, all doing what they do best.
Miles lost parts of his memory, but after an eight-hour surgery, regained the gift of his life. Sailing was never again my thing, but I did learn about leadership -- about how sometimes all you can do in a crisis is that one thing God has gifted you to do, even if it seems like the hardest thing in the world. And that sometimes it takes a community of leaders to replace the one leader.
