Each of us is a story - it is how we each exist and live. Interwoven within it are our time, place, introductions and endings. Also involved is conflict, perspective, tone, style and atmosphere. Bearing this in mind, the greatest mystery may be the way in which each story is without equal. Every story is individual, remarkable and unusual.
The third engineer now tells Danie his story while Danie visits his ship in Gqeberha. They each have a cup of coffee. At first the young man's story is full of ambition, explaining the great heights he wishes to achieve. One day he wants to be so and so, including the rest of it. As Danie asks questions, it becomes clear that the work story is only one part of his life. He also has a story that involves home. This includes antagonism, conflict and joy. The more he tells, the more it becomes clear that the story is set on the deep blue sea, but that the story is by no means simple. The mere sphere where it takes place implies associated intrigue. It is clear when he explains about being alone. It is clear when he explains the effects on relationships if you spend 10 months at sea. It is also clear when he explains the steel walls of a ship... Jonar's story is full of miracles, desperation, expectations, disappointments and every dramatic effect of a gripping story. Indeed, his story is without equal...
It seems as if we all involve more than a single cut story. Eventually each of us includes thousands of interwoven stories that form us to be something unique and unusual.
Danie is not only there to listen to Jonar's story. After he unpacked the Bibles in the sparkling clean dining area, there is another story that is closely knitted into their discussion. It is the story of a God that is deeply aware, involved and active in all our lives and He wants to be there. This is a God whose story is interwoven, knitted into the very core of our lives, because He formed us. He put us together. He created us. Jonar finds this realisation extremely valuable. It brings new perspective and hope. He smiles and holds the Tagalog Bible close to his chest when he finally says goodbye.
At the CSO we are involved with and active in the stories of men working at sea. More often than not, the stories are full of sorrow and searching. That is why it is such a privilege for us to remind every person we meet that the Great Storyteller's story forms such an integral part of our own stories and the stories of each of the men.
Please consider, urgently, to strengthen our hands with a financial contribution. Your contribution will help to rewrite stories each and every day of this year!
But also this - please remember in this year that your own story is unique, remarkable and unusual. We hope that you will also realise, in 2025, that God is aware of, involved and deeply active in your story. This promise is incredibly valuable.
Bank details: Christelike Seemansorganisasie. ABSA. Current. 1520-230-226.
“No”, is the quick answer - nonchalant and definite. There are no Christians on board and therefore Danie’s visit is blocked immediately and without further discussion. It is a clear fork in the road...
How vast the distance between two of the shortest words in our language? Between “no” en “yes” we often find a gaping, like a giant wound, in the earth, a dark cliff that divides the world in two. Between steep rock-face and wind-worn crags, chiselled by time, we find the depth are hiding a cold and relentless emptiness. The other side is so close and yet so far away. It is within reach, but also far beyond our reach. A single “no” or “yes” could change our lives irrevocably and chart our paths.
Danie’s “no” on board the ship is definite and absolute, BUT...
Then, as he is about to go down the stepladder, one man on board mentions casually that there could be, that there is a possibility of, one Christian on board. Perhaps he would like to speak to Danie. Suddenly the absolute refusal seems softer and the door had been opened, showing just a visible crack. Some warbled message over the radio and then a hand sign, asking Danie to wait a moment, makes him hang around a little longer. Moments later a young man appears. “Yes, yes please...”. Danie is led to the interior of the ship, although only moments ago he was asked to leave the ship, using the stepladder. The man does not only invite him to sit down and talk, he also invites him to unpack the Bibles from the backpack and display them on a table.
While talking, another man approaches shyly to look at the Bibles in his own language. First one arrives, then two asking what the books are, eventually picking up a Bible and paging through it. In a moment Danie can summarise the essence of the Book in three words: Mercy, love and hope.
Surprisingly the man that uttered the definite “no” at the stepladder also approaches to look. Suddenly there is a “perhaps”...
Then, he asks if he could, perhaps, also have a Bible.
Day after day we bear witness to the unbelievable ways in which God changes an absolute “no” into a receptive “yes”. How absolutely powerful! What we see as an unbridgeable chasm, poses no problem for God. Your donations and prayers help us every day to take the message of the Man of the Cross to the sceptics. From there God performs miracles that far exceed our understanding. So we experience many a “no” that changes into a straightforward “yes”. Thank you for being a part of this. It changes lives.
Christelike Seemansorganisasie. ABSA. Current. 1520-230-226.
Taking form depends on the perfect dust storm. As soon as the dust settles, it has the final say. From dust to dust... We seem to be living in circles - cyclical. A chilly winter holds the hidden promise of summer. The grey dark of the small hours of the night, promises the certainty that the circle around the axle of the earth, that we will see the colours of daybreak again. New Year’s Eve, when the clock strikes midnight, we have moved around the sun once more...
Men working at sea are just as involved in the game of eternal cycles. The eternal ebb and flow of the sea, the sunrise breaking over endless waves of the oceans, the moon that affects the tides. Each man starts hoping in safe harbours and ends with the everlasting promise of going home. Men working at sea know more than most that life cycles, like those of the seas, never stop. When they sail on the horizon, far from a beach where New Year’s fires sparkle and fireworks brightly light the skies, the feelings mostly include a deep longing for home, for that which they love.
At the CSO we hear these stories every day. Very often the stories are as extreme as the storms and the silences of the oceans. The stories are often about loneliness and longing, depression and fear, war, pirates, broken families - a seaman’s life.
How naïve would we be to think that the bells on New Year’s Eve could change all, wash everything clean? But, there is something about the start of a new year, it does bring hope that things will change in the new cycle. In our case, it is better, because we start walking the way to the Cross after celebrating the birth of the Child in the manger.
In the cycle from Crib to Cross we have living hope that things will improve, that there is a possibility of looking back after the cycle around the sun and say, ‘It was good’.
During this year we will, as in the decades before, with our donors’ donations and faithful prayers, we will be with the men working at sea, supporting them in the journey around the sun. We will continue, non-stop, to tell them about the One that is not bound by cycles, circles, time and seasons. We will continue to tell them of the One that always has mercy, the One in Whom we have living hope! Your donation makes it possible. Thank you so, so much for that.
May you also, in this cycle, experience that hope and mercy. And, when it gets dark, may you continue to breathe, because we never know what wonders the next tide will bring.
As on that night, the heavens above Bethlehem will be brightly lit. Unfortunately, it will be different. The star of that night kept watch silently over the crib, acting as pathfinder for shepherds and wise men, leading them to the Child that was called the Prince of Peace and Saviour.
This time the light in Israel is qualitatively different. A bright and dramatic light show will be presented, lighting the dark heavens spectacularly with fire lines before colouring the horizon for a moment in a soft orange glow. It is the prequel to disaster, tragedy, fear, anxiousness, loss of life ... the worst of the worst. The angel choirs seem to be silenced by the growls and grunts of the heavy artillery. On that night the angels sang, ‘Peace on earth...’, but people infiltrated and destroyed that peace.
Just the other week a disillusioned man on board a ship in Gqeberha tells of the intense fear that accompanies ‘navigating the Red Sea’. Another pours out the story of the still angry war in the Ukraine that now suddenly involves Northern Korea too. He explains how it affects him and his family. How we all became slaves to the macro-political regimes! How can we not but feel dejected and exposed by the sadness of the bombs and total chaos surrounding us!
Therefore, once a year, we stand silently at the Child of the Manger - as the exact opposite of the story that all had been lost. As we receive men working at sea each day of the year, with love of the Man of the Cross, in our harbours - we will remind each man working at sea of the Child of the Manger during this Christmas time. We will remind them of angels singing the alternative, ‘Peace on earth...’!
Each held captive in the claws of fear, each that trusts us enough to share their stories - whether it relates to pirate attacks, marriages on the rocks, or the isolation on board the ship that throws them into depression - will have us to hear the assurance that the Child came to change the narrative.
The people of the sea are exposed, disproportionately, to the hazards of life - war, mental health or relationships. Being a person working at sea means a very complex life. You can strengthen our hands in this time, to ensure that each person visiting our harbours in this Christmas time would experience the Child of the Manger that came to change the narrative. It is a story of peace on earth, not only on a macro-political level, but also on a deep personal level. Please consider, also in prayer, to support the CSO’s work financially this Christmas!
Also - May you experience this Christmas that the Christ Child brought you peace too.
Banking details: ABSA Bank. Christelike Seemansorganisasie. Current. 1520-230-226.
In the early hours of the morning, he wakes up in the grips of an invisible monster. His breathing is shallow and fast. His thoughts run in chaotic circles. Suddenly every noise, every shadow and every thought is a deadly threat. For him it is a sign that something terrible is about to happen to someone close to him!
The pressure in his head is unbearable, like a heavy storm building up, but one that never breaks. He feels trapped, absolutely trapped. In the fight every moment is a battle to control - control his thoughts, his breathing, his heart and his body. Fear is cunning and sly.
Yet, after what feels like an eternity, he finds a return to the normal beat of his heart and a normal breathing rhythm. Later, as he reports for his daily tasks, the events of the night lie shallow in his memory. In the days that follow, before anchoring in Coega, he remains aware of the tentacles of the fear. These took hold like those of an octopus, blocking his mind and mood.
The days are spent battling alone, like a person drowning among a thousand people. He does not have the courage to share the feelings with fellow crew-members. He fears that any acknowledgement of his battle would lead to victimisation and that it would, eventually, be a disadvantage to any possible promotion.
In Coega harbour, on a Thursday afternoon, Danie arrives on the container ship, without any knowledge of each other and also not knowing that God already arranged an appointment between the two. What starts as small talk upon the first meeting, quickly changes into so much more. For the first time the First Officer can share his fears without being afraid of victimisation or stigma. He can tell someone about the monster in the dark. Danie listens with empathy and with God's power the Holy Ghost starts to untangle the octopus' tentacles systematically. It gives the First Officer a chance to breathe and new breath brings new perspective.
Later, when Danie leaves, the emotional First Officer cannot stop thanking him for being willing to listen. It is not a quick remedy. What Danie could offer will not rectify the situation with a snap of his fingers. His efforts cannot contain the monsters forever, but the love and hope of the Man on the Cross brought new perspectives. It helped a drowning man to surface for air, even for a few moments. In that first deep breath, following total darkness and fear, you see the possibility of survival. To continue on the road, to keep on walking, is the result of that first breath of fresh air. It determines lives.
The CSO's work is exactly that: to offer support for the men and women working at sea, those people that are away from home for weeks and months. We offer spiritual support and a safe space to share concerns and fear. Please, you can help us, with your donation, to strengthen our hands, allowing us to help these men and women when they need to surface for air.