Faith

The Landwalker

by Ashley Rowland
03/10/15
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Landwalkers are all the same, thought Captain Joseph Dutton as his eyes trailed the old man in front of him. He tried to peer into the vastness ahead, but the fog repelled his sight. The fog choked the warm rays of the sun making mid-day seem like dusk. The sea was a power to be respected – an enticing mermaid one moment and a beast the next – and landwalkers always underestimated her.

“We can’t slow the ship now. I must be in Quebec by tomorrow afternoon,” said George with his fingers intertwined at his waist.

“I will not risk the safety of the Sardinian, my crew, or the passengers because you have an appointment. You will just have to miss it,” Joe said.

“Miss it? No, I don’t believe so.” George closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath.

Joe waved a big hand through the haze around him. “Do you see this fog?” At George’s nod, he continued. “This fog would be the death of everyone on this ship if we had not slowed our speed. What good would your appointment be then?”

“May I see your Chart Room, Captain?”

“Whatever for?”

“I would like a moment to pray. God can and will lift this fog for us,” George said as he gazed at Joe.

Joe broke eye contact after a moment. As captain of a ship, he was accustomed to staring down strong-willed men, but this man wasn’t just strong willed. There was something else … but why couldn’t he get it through his turtle shell for a brain that there was no use? They were at the mercy of the sea. “I’ll show you to the Chart Room, but I think it’s a waste of time. The sea has made up her mind that we’ll not make our destination as intended. To tempt her would be a mistake.”

George regarded him with that same look in his eyes, but didn’t say anything this time. They walked across the platform and into the Chart Room. Once inside the Chart Room, George raised splayed hands as high as he could and said, “Almighty God, you made the sea and everything in it. Please lift this fog. Not my will, but Yours and for Your glory.” He lowered his hands and turned to face Joe.

Joe remembered to shut his mouth, closed his eyes, and prayed, “Please…”

“Don’t bother, Captain.”

“Why in blazes not?” Joe slapped his hands against his thighs. “First, you insist that we can’t slow down. Then, when I try to pray, which is what you asked by the way, you tell me to stop. You don’t make any sense.”

“I only intended to pray myself, and I asked you to stop praying for a couple of reasons. First, you do not believe.” George paused a moment and then shrugged one shoulder. “Second, the Lord has already answered my prayer.” George turned and walked out of the Chart Room.

Joe watched George leave and followed. How could George be so confident? Joe half believed the man. He rubbed the back of his neck. No, that’s crazy.

As they neared the bridge, he slowly realized there weren’t any sounds. His men weren’t calling out commands, insults, anything. He rushed past George and burst onto his bridge. His men were gazing out at sea – the sea. He could actually see the sea. He looked back to George standing in the doorway to the bridge.

George wore a smile that stretched the entire width of his face and said, “Isn’t God amazing?”

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Author’s Note: This entry is a fictionalized account of a true story. George Müller was a missionary and evangelist who lived in the 1800s. He traveled extensively spreading the Good News, and was a light to many orphans with the homes that he built for them and the education that he insisted they receive. Shortly after the account that I wrote of here, Captain Joseph E. Dutton came to faith and became known as “Holy Joe.” You may read more about George Müller at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_M%C3%BCller.