If I were Paul Harvey, I would introduce this column by saying, "And now for the REST of the story!"  Last week, I recounted my safe and pleasant sailing journey on the Chesapeake Bay, and mentioned that I left the boat on Saturday afternoon.  But my four friends had the boat rented until Monday, so they decided to go back out on the Bay on Saturday afternoon after I left.

The sun had come out, and the storm seemed to have passed.  They announced, "We are sailors.  We aren't sitters!  Let's go sailing!" And they hoisted their sails again.  But just about the time they were out in deep water, the storm returned.  The wind picked up; the rains came; and a dense fog prevented them from seeing the marker buoys.

I had been the navigator for the group and had the only GPS on board.  With my handheld GPS, I could have navigated them safely even in the dark.  But my friends were now relying on line-of-sight navigation, and their sight didn't go very far in the rain and fog.  They had their navigational charts and the compass, but since they didn't know where they were, those aids didn't do much good.  So they started sailing in ever widening circles looking for a channel buoy.

Once they found a marked buoy, they knew where they were.  By sailing the right compass heading, they were able to pick green and red buoys making their way to a safe harbor.

Then a cold wind squall hit, dropping the temperature 15 degrees and shifting the wind.  They had to drop the sails and motor the rest of the way.  But finally they found a place to anchor for the night.  They all breathed a sigh of relief that they were finally safe, but their adventure wasn't over yet.

In the middle of the night, my friend, Jim, noticed that the boat seemed to be leaning.  Alarmed, he peered over the side and discovered they were aground.  The strong southerly winds blowing up the long Chesapeake Bay had actually built up the water in the northern part of the Bay so that the water stood two feet higher than usual when they anchored.  When the wind died down during the night, the water and the tide rushed out, leaving the boat aground in shallow water. 

For hours, the crew tried every sailor's tactic they knew to get the boat off, but to no avail.  Finally, my friends fought off their extreme embarrassment and called a sea tow from Annapolis to come pull them off.  It took two hours for the powerful tow boat to inch their 34-foot sailboat off the high ground.

As it turned out, I had left the boat just in time to avoid one of my typical sea disasters.  While I was writing last week's column about a pleasant week of sailing, my friends were dealing with major problems.

My preacher friend, Jim, entered his pulpit in Glasgow, Kentucky, the next Sunday with a sermon from the sea.  After recounting some of the adventures of the week on the Chesapeake, he gave some lessons for life. 

He said there are many times in life when the storms hit, and we find ourselves lost and vulnerable.  But we all have many resources for facing life's difficulties.  We have a navigational chart in the Bible. We have a compass when we gather for worship in our church focusing on who we are and where we are in life.  Finally, he said we have the One who calms storms and guides lives.  It is this same Jesus who commands the seas and wind, who directs those who would follow.  It is Jesus who says, "I am the way, the truth and the life. Follow me."   

Finally, he said, "We have our own skills, abilities and accumulated knowledge.  We have learned many lessons about life, and someone today needs to hear what we have learned.  We may be the only one who can bring them the good news, a way out, and a calm place.    We who have been saved from the storms are called to rescue those who need saving.  We who have been brought to the safety of a harbor are called to bring others to God's haven.  We are called to use our skills, to use our knowledge.  God needs us as much as we need God; and the world needs us and our witness."

Like I said in last week's column, the best stories come from disasters at sea.  Jim had some great lessons from life from their adventure on the Bay, but I must admit that I am glad I got off the boat when I did.  I am glad to learn my lessons from Jim's sermon!