The Unashamed Sailor

This is a Bonus Episode. A tale of sea, culture, and the steadfastness of God's word

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Good Lord's Day morning, friends, and welcome once again to Tales of Faith by the Sea. This morning is a little different from our usual Tuesday evening gatherings. The sun is rising over the water. The harbor is waking. Fishing boats are preparing to leave their slips. The gulls are beginning their morning patrol along the shoreline. And many of God's people are preparing their hearts to gather together in worship. Before you make your way to services this morning, I wanted to spend a few moments reflecting upon a verse that has guided our recent studies together. Romans chapter one and verse sixteen, for I am not ashamed of the gospel of Jesus Christ. There may be no more important message for a Christian to carry into the Lord's day than the message found in that single verse. The gospel is not merely one subject among many. It is the heart of our faith. It is the reason we gather, it is the reason we sing. It is the reason we pray. It is the reason we open our Bibles. It is the reason the church exists. Everything we do as Christians ultimately points back to the gospel of Jesus Christ. The Apostle Paul lived in a world that was often hostile to truth. A world filled with idols, false religions, political pressures, and moral confusion. Yet standing in the middle of that world, Paul boldly declared, For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ. What a statement. Not ashamed, not embarrassed, not hesitant, not silent, not apologetic. Why? Because the gospel is the power of God unto salvation. This morning as you prepare to worship, remember that the gospel is not merely a message we once heard when we obeyed the Lord. It is a message we continue to live by every day. He reminds us who we were. He reminds us what Christ has done. He reminds us where our hope is found. He reminds us where we are going. Perhaps someone listening this morning feels weary. Perhaps the week has been difficult. Perhaps you've battled discouragement, anxiety, temptation, or even perhaps disappointment. Friend, the gospel remains just as powerful this morning as it was when you first believed. The blood of Christ has not lost its power. The promises of God have not failed. The empty tomb is still empty. And our Savior still reigns at the Father's right hand. That is why we gather today, not simply because it is Sunday, but because Christ is worthy. As you make your way to worship this morning, I want to encourage you to arrive with a grateful heart. Open your Bible, lift your voice, encourage your brethren, and listen carefully to the preaching of God's Word. And remember that every faithful assembly of church is a reminder that we are part of something far greater than ourselves. For those who may be listening who are not members of the Lord's Church, I would encourage you to visit a faithful church of Christ in your area and study God's Word with an open heart. The gospel still is God's power unto salvation, and the invitation of Christ remains open. In just a little while many of us will gather in different places, different congregations and different communities. Yet we will be united by one Lord, one faith, one gospel, and one Savior. Thank you for spending these moments with me by the sea this Lord's Day morning. May God bless your worship today. May He strengthen your faith. May He encourage your heart. And may we never be ashamed of the gospel of Christ. May the Lord richly bless you today. Good morning, friend. If you will come in and sit with me for a little while along the shoreline, I would like to share a thought from God's word. The morning has begun quietly here. The sun is just now climbing above the horizon. Its first light is stretching across the water, turning the bay into a field of gold. A fishing boat can be seen in the distance, making her slow way toward deeper waters. The gulls follow behind her, hoping for an easy breakfast. The tide is moving steadily, not hurried, not delayed, simply moving according to the course God established for it long ago. There is something about mornings near the water that helps a man think clearly. The sea has a way of putting things in their proper place. Out here many of the things that seem so important during the week begin to appear much smaller. The worries, the arguments, the endless noise, the distractions. The sea reminds us that there are larger things, older things, more permanent things. And one of those things is truth. Not the kind of truth that changes every few years. Not the kind of truth adjusted by public opinion. Not the kind of truth reshaped by culture, but truth that remains fixed. Truth stands like a lighthouse during a storm. Truth that remains even when everything around it shifts. And that brings us to the words of the apostle Paul. Before we go any further, I want you to open your Bible and read a single verse, a short verse, one we've already mentioned, yet one powerful enough to steady a soul. That's Romans one and verse sixteen. Now listen carefully to the opening words, for I am not ashamed. Paul did not say those words casually. He did not write them merely to fill space upon a page. Every word carries weight. Every phrase matters. Because shame does not appear without reason. Men are not ashamed of things that are celebrated. Men become ashamed of things that are mocked, rejected, opposed, dismissed. And Paul lived in a world where the gospel was often all for. The Roman world admired power. The gospel proclaimed us crucified Savior. The Roman world admired status. The gospel welcomed fishermen and servants. The Roman world admired military victory. The gospel spoke of humility and sacrifice. Everything about the gospel appeared upside down to the world around him. Yet Paul said, I am not ashamed, not because the world approved, not because the message was popular, not because acceptance was guaranteed. He was not ashamed because of what the gospel is, the power of God unto salvation. And that, my friends, changes everything. I have spent enough years around the Gulf to learn something about storms. Most storms do not announce themselves loudly. The truly dangerous ones often begin quietly. A slight shift in the wind, a darkening horizon, a subtle change in the water. An old fisherman notices these things. Experience teaches him what others overlook. In much the same way spiritual drift rarely begins dramatically. Most people do not wake up one morning and decide to abandon truth. Instead it happens gradually. A little compromise here, a little silence there, a truth left unspoken, a conviction softened, a principle adjusted. And eventually a man finds himself far from where he once stood. The sea teaches us something important about drifting. A vessel does not have to actively travel away from shore. It merely has to stop paying attention. The current does the rest, and perhaps that is one reason Scripture repeatedly calls us to villigence. Not because God desires anxious people, but because he desires faithful ones. Faithfulness requires attention. Many years ago I spoke with an old captain down near the coast. His face bore the marks of decades beneath the sun. His hands carried the scars of rope and labor. He had weathered storms most men only read about. At one point I asked him what frightened him most at sea. I expected him to mention hurricanes or rogue waves, or mechanical failures. Instead he surprised me. He said Drifting. I asked him what he meant. He smiled and pointed toward the bay. Most shipwrecks don't begin with a storm, he said. They begin when somebody quits paying attention. I have thought about that statement many times, because it is equally true spiritually. Many souls are not lost through rebellion alone. Some are lost through neglect. Not because they hated truth, because they stopped holding tightly to it, not because they rejected Christ outright, because they slowly drifted from him. And drift is always easier than we imagine. Now this brings us back to Romans one in verse sixteen. Paul understood the pressure to drift. He understood what it meant to stand apart from culture. He understood what it meant to proclaim truth in a world that preferred something else. And yet he remained steadfast. Why? Because conviction anchored him. Notice something. Paul does not anchor himself in public opinion. Public opinion changes. He does not anchor himself in political power. Political power shifts. He does not anchor himself in personal success. Success comes and goes. He anchors himself in the gospel. And because the gospel remains true, Paul remains steadfast. The sailor trusts the anchor. The Christian trusts the gospel. Both hold fast when storms arise. The modern world often presents a different temptation, not necessarily to deny Christ, but to silence him, not necessarily to reject truth, but to soften it, to treat it as one opinion among many, to hold it loosely, to speak of it quietly, to avoid discomfort, to avoid conflict, to avoid standing apart. Yet truth has never depended upon popularity. A lighthouse remains a lighthouse, even as sailors ignore it. The shoreline remains where it is even when fog hides it. And the gospel remains true, whether accepted or rejected. The question is not whether truth changes. The question is whether we will remain faithful to it. Paul's courage was not rooted in personality. Some people imagine courage belongs only to bold individuals. Scripture teaches otherwise. Courage belongs to people who trust God more than circumstances. Paul faced imprisonment, opposition, mockery, beatings, danger. Yet he remained faithful, not because he enjoyed hardship, because he knew something greater than hardship. He knew Christ. And once a man truly knows Christ, the approval of the world becomes far less important. Another passage comes to mind Galatians one and verse ten. What a question Do I seek to please men? That question reaches across centuries and lands directly upon our hearts, because every believer faces it eventually. Will I seek approval or will I seek faithfulness? Will I follow the crowd? Or will I follow Christ? Will I shape truth to fit the times? Or will I allow truth to shape me? Those are not always easy questions, but they are necessary ones. But certain things remain. The stars remain, the heavens remain, the promises of God remain, and the gospel remains. That is why Paul could stand confidently. Not because he trusted himself, because he trusted the one who never changes. Friend, perhaps you are facing pressures of your own today. Perhaps you feel the pull of the current. Perhaps you feel the temptation to remain silent. Perhaps you know what is true but struggle to stand firmly upon it. Then let me encourage you with this thought. You do not stand alone. Every faithful Christian who has ever lived has faced similar pressures. The prophets face them, the apostles face them, the early church face them, and believers still face them today. Yet the same God who strengthened them remains with us. The same gospel that saved them still saves today. The same Christ who guided them still guides his people, and because he does, we do not need to be ashamed. In a world that changes so quickly, the sea reminds us that some things endure. Not everything shifts, not everything bends. Not everything changes with the times. And that is important because we live in an age where nearly everything seems negotiable. Opinions change, trends change, values change. Ideas once considered certain are discarded. New philosophies rise and fall with remarkable speed. Yet amid all that movement, God causes people to stand. Not stubbornly, not arrogantly, but faithfully, and faithfulness requires something many people have lost. Conviction One of the most dangerous things about the sea is that currents are often visible. You can stand upon the deck and feel perfectly safe. The water may appear calm, the sky may appear peaceful, yet beneath the surface a powerful current may be already carrying the vessel away from its intended course. The captain who ignores the current eventually finds himself somewhere he never intended to go. The same thing happens spiritually. Very few people abandon truth all at once. The process is usually gradual. The current begins pulling, the culture begins speaking, the pressure begins building, and little by little convictions weaken. The danger is not always open opposition. Sometimes it is quiet accommodation, a willingness to compromise, a willingness to soften, a willingness to remain silent. The world rarely begins by demanding that Christians deny Christ. More often it asks them simply not to mention him, to keep faith private, to keep convictions personal, to avoid making others uncomfortable, and before long silence becomes normal. One of the great misunderstandings about Christianity is the idea that courage means being loud. Scripture presents courage differently. Biblical courage is often remarkably quiet. Daniel displayed courage by continuing to pray. Joseph displayed courage by refusing temptation. Noah displayed courage by building an ark when nobody understood. Paul displayed courage by continuing to preach. Courage is not measured by volume. It is measured by faithfulness. The world often rewards people who stand out. God often honors those who stand firm. Those are not always the same thing. Second Timothy chapter one seven and eight for God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline. Therefore, do not be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, or of me, his prisoner, but join with me in his suffering, for the gospel according to the power of God. Notice the connection Paul makes fear, shame, faithfulness. These things often travel together. Fear produces hesitation. Hesitation produces silence. Silence eventually produces compromise. Yet Paul reminds Timothy that God did not give us a spirit of fear. Instead he gave power, love, and a sound mind, steady things, balanced things, reliable things, much like an experienced captain navigating difficult waters. The sea does not reward panic, nor does the Christian life. Faithfulness requires steadiness. As we sit here overlooking the water, it is easy to agree with such ideas. There is little opposition. Along a quiet shoreline. No one is demanding explanations. No one is challenging convictions. No one is questioning scripture. But conviction is rarely tested in peaceful moments. It is tested elsewhere. It is tested when a believer stands alone. It is tested when truth becomes unpopular. It is tested when speaking carries a cost. The real question is never what do I believe when circumstances are comfortable? The real question is what will I hold when circumstances become difficult? This is where conviction proves itself. Not in theory, in practice, not in comfort, in challenge, not on Sunday morning alone, but on Monday afternoon, Tuesday evening, Thursday at work, Friday among friends. The sea tests vessels. Life tests faith. A lighthouse is one of the most remarkable structures ever built. Its purpose is simple. Remain visible, remain steady, remain faithful. Storms may come, fog may arrive, winds may howl, but the lighthouse does not chase ships. It simply stands. Generation after generation, sailors have depended upon that consistency. The lighthouse serves precisely because it refuses to move. Truth functions in much the same way. Its usefulness comes from its permanence. If a lighthouse moved every time the weather changed, it would become useless. If truth changed every time culture shifted, it would cease to be truth. One reason Christians must remain anchored in Scripture is because Scripture provides an unchanging point of reference. Without it we drift, with it we navigate. Thy word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. What a beautiful image. The word of God is a lamp, not a spotlight illuminating twenty years into the future. A lamp. Enough light for the next step. Enough light for the next decision. Enough light for the next challenge. The sailor crossing unfamiliar waters at night does not require visibility of the entire journey. He needs sufficient light to continue faithfully. God often guides his people in the same way. One step, then another. One day, then another. One act of obedience, then another. Faithfulness is built that way. There is another storm that threatens many believers, the desire to be light. Now there is nothing wrong with kindness, nothing wrong with being gracious, nothing wrong with treating people respectfully. Christ Himself demonstrated perfect love, but there is a difference between loving people and needing their approval. The desire for approval becomes dangerous when it begins shaping convictions. Galatians addresses this directly Galatians one and verse ten for do I now persuade men or God? Or do I seek to please men? For if I still please men, I would not be a bond servant of Christ. Paul understood that pleasing men and serving Christ often lead in different directions. Not always, but often. Truth has a way of creating contrast. Not because Christians seek conflict, because light naturally reveals darkness. A lighthouse does not attack the darkness, it simply shines. Truth operates similarly. Its very presence exposes error, and because of that truth is not always welcomed. One lesson every sailor eventually learns is this. The seed does not negotiate. A channel marker remains where it is. The shoreline remains where it is. The reef remains where it is. A captain may dislike those realities, but he cannot alter them. He must navigate according to them. God's truth functions very similarly. It is not ours to redesign, not ours to modernize, not ours to reshape. It is ours to obey. It is ours to trust. It is ours to proclaim. Paul understood this. That is why he could have said I am not ashamed, not because the message belonged to him, because it belonged to God. Perhaps you are listening today and feeling tired, not physically, spiritually. You have tried to remain faithful. You have tried to stand firm. You have tried to follow Christ. Yet pressure seems constant. The current seems strong. The voices seem loud. Let me encourage you. You are not the first believer to feel that way. Elijah felt that way. Jeremiah felt that way. Timothy felt that way. Even Paul experienced seasons of discouragement. Yet God remained faithful through every one of them. And he remains faithful still. The strength to stand does not come from ourselves. It comes from the one who called us, the one who saved us, the one who continues sustaining us. As the tide continues moving beneath this morning sun, I am reminded once again that faithfulness is not complicated. Difficult at times, but not complicated. Hold to God's word, trust Christ, refuse to drift, remain faithful one day at a time, one decision at a time, one act of obedience at a time. And when the currents of the world begin pulling in another direction, remember Romans 116. Remember Paul's words, remember the gospel. And remember that truth remains true even when the world forgets it. Another lesson every sailor eventually learns is that there are limits to human strength. The strongest fisherman cannot command the tide. The most experienced captain cannot calm a hurricane. The finest vessel ever built cannot stop the sea from being the sea. There comes a point when human ability reaches its limits. Most people spend their lives trying to avoid that reality. They trust education, they trust money, they trust success, they trust influence, they trust themselves. And for a while these things seem sufficient. That is until a storm arrives. The sea has a remarkable way of exposing false confidence. A man may boast of his strength while standing safely upon the shore. But let him spend one night upon a storm tossed vessel, and his perspective quickly changes. Likewise, life eventually reveals the limitations of every earthly thing. Money cannot purchase forgiveness. Success cannot erase guilt. Popularity cannot conquer death. Human wisdom cannot save the soul. The gospel begins where human ability ends. Romans three and verse twenty three for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. The Bible speaks honestly about mankind, not cruelly, not harshly, honestly. All have sinned, not some, not a few, all the fisherman, the preacher, the businessman, the politician, the teacher, the farmer, the sailor. Every one of us stands in need of grace. That truth may wound our pride, but it opens the door to salvation. Many years ago I heard that same old captain describe a hurricane he survived in the Gulf. His voice remained quieter as he spoke. Not dramatic, not exaggerated, simply honest. He said there came a point during the storm when every man aboard realized something. No amount of experience could save them. No amount of effort could guarantee survival. No amount of skill could control the sea. At that moment they understood their dependence. Perhaps that is why storms often change people. They reveal reality. The gospel does something similar. It reveals our true condition before God. And once we understand that condition, the cross becomes infinitely precious. Romans the sixth chapter, the twenty third verse reads for the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Notice the contrast death and life, judgment and grace, what man deserves and what God offers. The gospel is not merely good advice. It is good news. Advice tells us what to do. The gospel tells us what Christ has already done. That distinction changes everything. Imagine a sailor swept overboard during a storm. The sea is dark, the waves are high, the shore is nowhere in sight. Would we shout instructions from the deck? Would we hand him a book? Would we offer encouragement from a distance? Of course not. What he needs is rescue. The gospel is God's rescue mission for lost humanity. Christ did not merely come to improve us, he came to save us, to seek and save the lost, to bring wandering souls home. Luke chapter nineteen and verse ten reads For the Son of Man has come to seek and save that which was lost. Every time I read that verse I think of search and rescue crews. I think of Coast Guard helicopters flying into storms. I think of men risking their lives to save strangers. And then I remember that Christ left heaven itself to rescue sinners. Not because we deserved it, because he loved us. There are certain landmarks sailors never forget, a familiar lighthouse, a harbor entrance, a channel marker, a point of land visible from miles away. The cross stands as such a landmark in human history. No event has shaped eternity more profoundly. No act of love has ever been greater. At Calvary justice and mercy met. At Calvary sin was confronted. At Calvary redemption was purchased. At Calvary the Son of God died for sinners. Looking at the book of Romans, the fifth chapter, verse eight, but God demonstrates his own love toward us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Notice the timing, not after we improved, not after we became worthy, not after we earned forgiveness. While we were still sinners, that is grace, amazing grace, grace deeper than the gulf, grace wider than the ocean, grace strong enough to save the chief of sinners, and grace sufficient for you and for me. As the morning settles across the bay, the harbor lights have begun to disappear. One by one, they were once small points of light against the growing darkness. To the sailor returning from sea, those lights meant something safety, rest, home. The Christian possesses a similar hope, not wishful thinking, not uncertainty, a confident expectation rooted in Christ. If you will turn with me to Hebrews the sixth chapter, verses nineteen and twenty. This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast and which enters the presence behind the veil, where the forerunner has entered for us, even Jesus, having become high priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek. The writer describes hope as an anchor. What a fitting image. Anchors hold during storms. Anchors stabilize vessels. Anchors prevent drifting. The Christian's anchor is not attached to circumstances. Circumstances change. It is attached to Christ. And Christ never changes. As we bring this study to a close, let us return once more to Romans one and verse sixteen. Paul was not ashamed because he understood what the gospel had done. It transformed his life. It forgave his sins. It reconciled him to God. It gave him hope beyond death. Friends, that is why I am not ashamed either. Not because I have lived a perfect life, I have not. Not because I possess unusual wisdom. I do not. Not because I deserve God's favor. I certainly do not. I am not ashamed because Christ saved me. The gospel brought a wandering sinner home. The gospel lifted my eyes toward heaven. The gospel gave me purpose to my days and hope for eternity. And if it can do that for me, it can do that for anyone. Perhaps someone listening this morning feels far from God. You know the feeling. You remember better days. You remember a stronger faith. You remember a closer walk with the Lord. Yet somewhere along the way you may have drifted. Friend, hear me clearly. The harbor lights are still shining. The Father still welcomes prodigals. The Savior still receives sinners. The gospel remains the power of God unto salvation. You have not wandered beyond the reach of God's grace. The invitation remains open. But the father said to his servants, Bring out the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet, and bring the fatted calf, and kill it, and let us eat and be merry. For this my son was dead, and is alive again. He was lost and is found. And they began to be merry. What a beautiful picture. A father running toward a returning son. That is not the picture of a reluctant God. That is a picture of a loving father, a father eager to forgive, a father eager to restore, a father eager to welcome his children home. The gospel remains. Empires rise and fall. Cultures change. Generations pass. Storms come and go, yet the gospel remains. He remains true. He remains powerful. He remains sufficient. And it remains the only message capable of saving the souls of men. Well, friends, our time together is drawing to a close. The tide is turning. The morning grows quiet. The gulls have settled upon their post. Thank you for spending this time with me by the sea. It is my prayer that something from God's word has strengthened your faith, encouraged your heart, and reminded you that the Lord is still guiding his people safely through every storm and every crossing. If the Lord wills, we will gather here again next Tuesday evening. Each week we will meet along these shores and listen to stories carried by the sea winds, stories from the Gulf Coast, from working fishermen and sailors, from storms and shipwrecks, from lighthouses and harbors, from the deep waters of the ocean, and from the countless lessons God teaches through his creation. Most importantly, we will open the holy scriptures together and seek wisdom from the eternal word of God. My hope is that these conversations will be a source of encouragement in the middle of your week. For faithful Christians striving to serve the Lord, perhaps these episodes can serve as a brief harbor of rest between the Lord's Day assemblies. A place to strengthen the anchor, refill the lamp, and be reminded of God's promises. For those who may not yet know Christ or may be unfamiliar with the Lord's Church, my prayer is that these studies will encourage you to open God's word for yourself, and discover the beauty of the gospel of God. For those who may not yet know Christ or may be unfamiliar with the Lord's Church, my prayer is that these studies will encourage you to open God's word for yourself, and discover the beauty of the gospel of Jesus Christ. And if you are not presently a member of the Lord's Church, I would encourage you to seek out a faithful congregation of the Church of Christ in your area, one that strives to follow the teaching of the New Testament, honor the authority of Scripture, and glorify Christ in all things. The Christian life was never meant to be sailed alone. God designed his people to worship, serve, grow, and encourage one another together. As Hebrews reminds us, we are not to forsake the assembling of ourselves together, but to encourage one another as we see the day approaching. Before we leave this morning, allow me to introduce Myself properly. My name is Nathan Hampton, and I have the privilege of serving as a preacher for the Enan Church of Christ, just outside Dothan, Alabama. It is a blessing to spend these moments with you each week, and I am grateful for every listener who chooses to join me on these voyages through Scripture. So until next Tuesday evening, keep your eyes upon Christ, keep your Bible open, keep your faith anchored in the promises of God, and remember that the captain of our salvation still stands at the helm. May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He strengthen your faith when the seas are rough. May He comfort you when the nights seem long. May He grant you courage for every crossing, and peace for every storm. And may we all continue sailing toward that eternal harbor, where storms never rise, tears never fall, and the light of our Savior never grows dim. Until next time, friends, fair winds, steadfast faith, and God's richest blessings to you.