Our Newsletter
Our newsletter, "Cross Current" is published each Sunday.
Along with an up-to-date rundown of congregational activities, each edition features an interesting and challenging cover story that connects faith to real life.
Written by Rick Gamble, these articles are published the following week in the Brantford Expositor where Rick is the Religion and Ethics columnist.
To have these free, no-strings-attached articles delivered weekly to your mailbox, drop Rick a note at info@followers.ca
Our newsletter, "Cross Current" is published each Sunday.
Along with an up-to-date rundown of congregational activities, each edition features an interesting and challenging cover story that connects faith to real life.
Written by Rick Gamble, these articles are published the following week in the Brantford Expositor where Rick is the Religion and Ethics columnist.
To have these free, no-strings-attached articles delivered weekly to your mailbox, drop Rick a note at info@followers.ca
Ship of Miracles
The retreat was all about the Victory. The SS Meredith Victory, to be precise.
Just before Christmas in 1950, the Korean War was going badly for the United Nations coalition supporting South Korea, which had been invaded six months earlier by North Korea with help from China and Russia.
At first, the UN pushed the invaders back, but a massive offensive by the Chinese chased 100,000 UN troops out of northeast Korea. They scrambled back to the city of Hungnam where 193 ships waited to evacuate them to a safe, southern port.
But word of the rescue spread among thousands of desperate refugees, terrified of the Chinese. They flooded into the naval staging area, and 100,000 made it aboard the military ships.
By the time the cargo vessel Meredith Victory arrived, all the other ships were gone. Some frantic refugees were not.
Moved by compassion for the frenzied throng, Captain Leonard LaRue immediately ordered the unloading of nearly all weapons and supplies to make room for as many people as possible. For hours, the crew used booms and improvised elevators to fill the ship's five cargo holds and the entire main deck.
Packed like proverbial sardines, most people had to stand in freezing temperatures, shoulder-to-shoulder. By the time the gangway was raised, there were 14,000 aboard the vessel — which was built for 12 passengers and a crew of just 47.
As UN artillery blasted the port to keep the enemy from confiscating anything, the Victory eased tentatively through heavily mined waters, heading 450 sea miles south. The ship had no military protection, little food and water, and only a few bathrooms.
But no one was hurt, and nobody died. During the three-day trip, five babies were delivered by a sailor who had only first-aid training.
“There's no explanation for why the [refugees] were able to stand virtually motionless and in silence... despite their desperate plight,” wrote Staff Officer Robert Lunney. “We were touched by it.” But Capt. LaRue had his own explanation for what came to be called the Ship of Miracles, which pulled off history's largest evacuation from land by a single ship.
“As I think [of that voyage],” he said, “the clear, unmistakable message comes to me that on that Christmastide... God's own hand was at the helm of my ship.”
The 14,000 passengers arrived safely in the south on Boxing Day. Among them were the parents of Moon Jae-in, the 19th President of South Korea who was born two years later. It's estimated there are now more than a million descendants from those aboard the Victory.
As for Capt. LaRue, he became a Benedictine monk in New Jersey, taking the name Brother Marinus. He inspired others with his service and sacrifice until he died in 2001.
What the Victory symbolized for those refugees was hope. When they climbed aboard ship, they trusted the captain willing to rescue them.
And that's the Biblical view of hope. Unlike today, when hope often conveys an element of doubt — “I hope it won't rain tomorrow.” — the Bible’s words translated “hope” are rooted in a sense of confident anticipation, security, and assurance based on trust.
We trust the Captain willing to rescue us, and we know He'll come through no matter what we go through.
Which is not to say He'll save us from every hardship. Biblical hope, especially in the Christmas story, involves God saving us from our sin, not from ourselves or our situations.
Just as the Koreans were rescued by a cargo vessel, not a gunship, God saved us by an utterly unconventional avenue. He sent a Messiah who carried our sins and died a horrendous death to pay the penalty we deserve, so we could have eternal life. Those who wanted only a military Messiah to throw out the Romans and solve all their problems were gravely disappointed.
Many today are equally dismayed God cares more about our spiritual poverty than our earthly preoccupations.
As the Bible says, “Faith [trust in God] is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.” (Heb. 11:1). We hope for an eternity with God in a perfect place and, though we do not see it — yet — we're certain He'll deliver because we know Him. We know His love and faithfulness, and how He keeps His promises.
And while those promises don't include a guarantee of an easy life, we do have the assurance God will give us strength, wisdom, purpose, and confidence. After all, once you're not afraid to die, there isn't much you can't endure, especially when God's not only beside you but within you.
That means you can live with boldness and confident expectation, which is why Peter says, “Revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks why you have the hope you have, but do it with gentleness and respect.” (1 Peter 14, 15)
For now, we stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the saving power of God's grace and forgiveness. The Victory of Jesus over death carries us to a safe place where those who come after us will be blessed by the fresh start God makes possible in our lives, free from the oppression of sin, guilt, and regret.
So as you sail through life, trust in the One who was willing to make room for you by emptying Himself of power and position. Live in courageous anticipation of what we seek and don't yet see. Then you, too, will feel God's own hand at the helm of your ship.
By Rick Gamble. Reprint at will in not-for-profit publications. Share your thoughts with Rick at info@followers.ca
Just before Christmas in 1950, the Korean War was going badly for the United Nations coalition supporting South Korea, which had been invaded six months earlier by North Korea with help from China and Russia.
At first, the UN pushed the invaders back, but a massive offensive by the Chinese chased 100,000 UN troops out of northeast Korea. They scrambled back to the city of Hungnam where 193 ships waited to evacuate them to a safe, southern port.
But word of the rescue spread among thousands of desperate refugees, terrified of the Chinese. They flooded into the naval staging area, and 100,000 made it aboard the military ships.
By the time the cargo vessel Meredith Victory arrived, all the other ships were gone. Some frantic refugees were not.
Moved by compassion for the frenzied throng, Captain Leonard LaRue immediately ordered the unloading of nearly all weapons and supplies to make room for as many people as possible. For hours, the crew used booms and improvised elevators to fill the ship's five cargo holds and the entire main deck.
Packed like proverbial sardines, most people had to stand in freezing temperatures, shoulder-to-shoulder. By the time the gangway was raised, there were 14,000 aboard the vessel — which was built for 12 passengers and a crew of just 47.
As UN artillery blasted the port to keep the enemy from confiscating anything, the Victory eased tentatively through heavily mined waters, heading 450 sea miles south. The ship had no military protection, little food and water, and only a few bathrooms.
But no one was hurt, and nobody died. During the three-day trip, five babies were delivered by a sailor who had only first-aid training.
“There's no explanation for why the [refugees] were able to stand virtually motionless and in silence... despite their desperate plight,” wrote Staff Officer Robert Lunney. “We were touched by it.” But Capt. LaRue had his own explanation for what came to be called the Ship of Miracles, which pulled off history's largest evacuation from land by a single ship.
“As I think [of that voyage],” he said, “the clear, unmistakable message comes to me that on that Christmastide... God's own hand was at the helm of my ship.”
The 14,000 passengers arrived safely in the south on Boxing Day. Among them were the parents of Moon Jae-in, the 19th President of South Korea who was born two years later. It's estimated there are now more than a million descendants from those aboard the Victory.
As for Capt. LaRue, he became a Benedictine monk in New Jersey, taking the name Brother Marinus. He inspired others with his service and sacrifice until he died in 2001.
What the Victory symbolized for those refugees was hope. When they climbed aboard ship, they trusted the captain willing to rescue them.
And that's the Biblical view of hope. Unlike today, when hope often conveys an element of doubt — “I hope it won't rain tomorrow.” — the Bible’s words translated “hope” are rooted in a sense of confident anticipation, security, and assurance based on trust.
We trust the Captain willing to rescue us, and we know He'll come through no matter what we go through.
Which is not to say He'll save us from every hardship. Biblical hope, especially in the Christmas story, involves God saving us from our sin, not from ourselves or our situations.
Just as the Koreans were rescued by a cargo vessel, not a gunship, God saved us by an utterly unconventional avenue. He sent a Messiah who carried our sins and died a horrendous death to pay the penalty we deserve, so we could have eternal life. Those who wanted only a military Messiah to throw out the Romans and solve all their problems were gravely disappointed.
Many today are equally dismayed God cares more about our spiritual poverty than our earthly preoccupations.
As the Bible says, “Faith [trust in God] is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.” (Heb. 11:1). We hope for an eternity with God in a perfect place and, though we do not see it — yet — we're certain He'll deliver because we know Him. We know His love and faithfulness, and how He keeps His promises.
And while those promises don't include a guarantee of an easy life, we do have the assurance God will give us strength, wisdom, purpose, and confidence. After all, once you're not afraid to die, there isn't much you can't endure, especially when God's not only beside you but within you.
That means you can live with boldness and confident expectation, which is why Peter says, “Revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks why you have the hope you have, but do it with gentleness and respect.” (1 Peter 14, 15)
For now, we stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the saving power of God's grace and forgiveness. The Victory of Jesus over death carries us to a safe place where those who come after us will be blessed by the fresh start God makes possible in our lives, free from the oppression of sin, guilt, and regret.
So as you sail through life, trust in the One who was willing to make room for you by emptying Himself of power and position. Live in courageous anticipation of what we seek and don't yet see. Then you, too, will feel God's own hand at the helm of your ship.
By Rick Gamble. Reprint at will in not-for-profit publications. Share your thoughts with Rick at info@followers.ca
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