ROB MERCHANT - Broken by Fear, Anchored in Hope: Faithfulness in an Age of Anxiety

I learnt to sail when I was ten. Each year my ordinary middle school took away a whole year group to a local authority sail-training centre located on the shore of an inland lake and enabled a group of ordinary children from ordinary homes to experience something extraordinary: the freedom to encounter that which cannot be controlled. Over the course of a week we sailed our little clinker-built boats around the lake, learning to work as a team and exploring how we could make our way across the water as we discovered how to respond to the competing demands of wind and water. That experience brought an unimaginable freedom; unimaginable to a ten-year-old mind and one that perhaps only now over 35 years later Im beginning to comprehend.

My parents, noticing the slowly emerging confidence of their son, encouraged this newly found passion for wind and water, and a few years later my father took me on my first experience of coastal sailing on a big boat. I say a big boat, it was a small day cruiser, but its mast, hull and little cabin seemed vast to a boy who had never encountered such a thing before, and I was scared. I didnt realize at the time I was scared; the racing surge of adrenaline with the promise of what was to happen caused my excitement to mask my fear, yet fear had taken hold and with each chink of the wire upon the mast as the wind blew and the boat rocked against the jetty where it was moored, little by little my fear became more emboldened.

The days sailing was to be a taster experience in coastal sailing off the Welsh Menai Straits, a beautiful part of Wales, the straits themselves separating the Isle of Anglesey from the Welsh mainland. The wind was blowing constantly but firmly through the straits and it promised to be a day of learning and excitement. Having prepared the boat, we motored out of the little harbour and into the straits, where we hoisted our sails for the day ahead, accompanied by an experienced sailing instructor in a small safety boat.

As we sailed towards the southern end of the straits, heading out into coastal waters, the wind picked up a little more and we made good progress. But the sky above us was darkening as clouds closed in, and the movement of the boat became more aggressive as the increasing force of the wind propelled us through the water, which was now beginning to surge and swell around us. Our helm quickly realized that the large genoa sail we had started out with needed to be urgently switched to a smaller jib sail to enable him to keep control of the bow of the boat, and my father made his way to the bow. Sitting astride the forestay, he hoisted down the large sail, which had now become stuck due to the force of the wind upon it. My fathers courage in going forward was a startling image. I was fearful he would be thrown into the water as the boat surged ahead and thankful that he was willing to be afraid in order that the rest of us would be safe. As we headed towards the mouth of the straits, the call came from the sailing instructor to reef our sails because there was a risk of the wind increasing further as we headed out of the shelter of the straits. Reducing our sail area, checking our safety equipment and clipping harnesses to a safety wire, we were ready for what was ahead.

A force-6 wind strength is generally considered the safe maximum wind strength for inland sailors like myself. I was used to using my body to balance the boat; tuck my feet under a toe strap and place as much of my body as possible out of the water in order to counteract the force of the wind against the boats sail so as to keep the hull at its fastest point of movement through the water. It is an exhilarating experience, with your head at times skimming the surface of the water, the wind compelling you on, and the only thing preventing you from capsizing is the sheer determination not to be beaten by the unseen force youre battling through body and skill. Nothing had ever prepared me for the experience of when that unseen force is overwhelming in its violence.