Connecting the Spirit

By Jack Krayenhoff
You know the legend of the Flying Dutchman, don't you? The story was born in the late 17^th century, when the Dutch had developed a rich spice trade with what is now Indonesia.

To get there, they had to round the Cape of Good Hope, but that could be a tricky business for the weather there was often foul and the seas dangerous. Experience had taught sailors that it was wise to stay in harbour till a spell of calm sea occurred, and then to venture out to round the Cape.

One day a capable but imprudent captain, named Van der Decke, was in no mood to wait any longer in harbour, and foolishly ventured out into the wild seas, where a tempest was raging. Apparently the ship foundered, but none of the fragments were ever found, and none of the crew were ever seen again. However, not long after the disaster sightings were reported of a three-master sailing at high speed and then mysteriously disappearing from sight. This ghostly ship was seen both from other ships and from shore, often by several observers at once. It was the Flying Dutchman, who for his foolishness was condemned to sail the seas forever, never to find safe harbour again.

In my late teens and in my student days this story held a strange fascination for me. Outwardly my life was unfolding smoothly, in fact successfully, but I was aware of a deep restlessness inside. That Flying Dutchman, that was me. I needed a safe harbour,  but where was it? I was the captain of my own ship, but I had no charts.

One day I decided to open a Bible that my girlfriend had given me. I began with the gospel of Mark, which starts right in with Jesus' appearance as a public figure. Immediately his actions and personality began to grip me: here was a powerful figure! With just a word he expels a demon from a raving maniac. He takes a very sick woman by the hand and pulls her up - and instantly she feels perfectly well. He teaches, and the people say to each other, "This man knows what he is talking about. He has authority!"

But the following morning, before daybreak, he goes off by himself to pray. This was unexpected. Of all people, I should not have thought such a confident and powerful man would feel the need of prayer.

What the demons were all about, I had no idea, and his need for prayer surprised me, but his whole appearance and approach had a powerful fascination to me. A little later he sees a man who is collecting taxes for the Roman government, and says to him, "Follow me", and again a little later the same with some fishermen on the beach: "Follow me". He does not promise them anything, but without hesitation they accept his invitation, drop what they are doing, and begin following him. Evidently they feel a powerful magnetism emanating from him - and I felt it, too.

Like them, I knew: this man is authentic, he is a good man and he knows what he is doing. I can trust him. I don't know where the harbour is, but he does. I am going to follow him, too. Or, to return to the nautical setting of my story: I stepped aside from the steering wheel of my ship, and let him take over.

Have I found that safe harbour, and can I tell you where it is? No. But I don't worry, for I know he is getting me there. In that sense I could say that Jesus already is the safe harbour.