No doubt you’ve heard the story about the two radio operators arguing back and forth about which one needed to divert their course to avoid a collision at sea. When the operator aboard the Navy ship finally demands that the other change course immediately—because “this is an important battleship,” the reply comes back:
“And this is a lighthouse.”
The story has made the rounds and is more likely a joke than an actual occurrence, but I never get tired of hearing it. How refreshing it is to be caught off guard by truth, to comprehend in new ways.
So, what is the truth of this story?
As I’ve heard it told, it’s all about recognizing that the world does not revolve around us and that we best be adjusting our course accordingly. A good moral to the story.
But what if we are the lighthouse instead of the ship?
What if we are the ones that will not, indeed, cannot be moved? The ones who know who we are, who are founded on so solid a Rock that we can weather the storm and turn a deaf ear to the threats? The ones who hang in there, and cling to hope? The ones who may still be figuring out the next step, but will remain true to the calling of this moment right now?
I believe there is a rest to be found in that kind of confidence—even in our places of unrest.
May your rest be sweet,
Alicia