How Not to Impress A Girl

August 1975

I was smitten! Love at first sight, it was. I learned Rebekah (not her real name) existed while attending a mission conference. I was in missionary training at a nearby campus. She had finished the training in another state and was on her way home for the summer. In the fall, she would go to language school. She had stopped to visit one of my roommates. They hailed from the same hometown, and were good friends, but nothing more.

Observing her from afar, I thought she was cute. She seemed to have a zest for life and a fun personality. Among the women, she was the exception in the crowd. Most ladies wore slacks and blouses. Not Rebekah! She wore a cotton summer dress. Her choice of feminine fashion screamed, “I am woman!” but demanded respect from men, both in action and thought. I concluded she was a “lady” in the best sense of the word. I liked that!

Hearing bits of gossip, I garnered another tidbit about her. She played the piano! In those days, that was something high on my list of desirable wifely traits. I played the piano! I wanted to harmonize with someone like her for the rest of my life!

Sadly, the girl I adulated was mostly fabricated from the few gleanings collected during that short time of observance. Regardless, I liked my chimerical girl! She stole my heart that night. I gave her free residence there, never knowing if I would see her again.

Fourteen months later, I was released from missionary training. The next phase was Language School in Missouri, situated on the shores of the Lake of the Ozarks. To my delight, Rebekah was still there. She had finished the course, but had been asked to stay on to teach phonetics to the new arrivals.

That first week, before Friday night rolled around, I got my nerve up. I asked her to go on a boat ride with me. I was elated that she said, Yes! We were both headed to the mission field. Perhaps we would end up in a remote jungle. Knowing how to row a boat, paddle a canoe, or steer an outboard motor could save our lives, someday! My wish was to get to know her, yes, but, also, to make a good impression on her at the same time. I wanted her to know that I could protect her. I hoped to show her that I could get us from point A to point B without getting lost.

As we walked to the dock, I hardly noticed the sultry breath of the Missouri summer. Usually, I felt smothered by its heavy embrace. Just being close to Rebekah was refreshing, though, making my sad world a more temperate and enjoyable place!

The boat ride would not take long. It would be just a short row from our dock out to the main channel and back. We would enjoy the sunset over the water, and hopefully catch a breeze in the wide-open expanse of the lake. More importantly, we would talk and laugh. I would get to know the real Rebekah. I hoped she was the twin sister to the one in my imagination!

When we got to the dock, I steadied the old wooden boat as she stepped into it. She found her place in the stern. Always a lady, she smoothed her dress around her knees as she sat down. She sat facing me. I sat in the middle, manning the oars, facing her.

I had to crane my neck backwards to set our course. I did not mind missing the view over the bow because the view towards the stern was fantastic. Rebekah was in it! She wore a white dress with big red strawberries printed around the bottom of the skirt. I thought she was most beautiful and with the berries on her dress, she looked delicious! The fading sunlight shown through her hair turning the strands to gold. It was going to be a perfect evening!

I used an oar to push us away from the dock and send us towards the open water. When we were clear, I leaned back pulling hard on both oars. The boat moved heavily through the water. The wooden blades cut deeply into the liquid expanse. I heard the swirl and gurgle of displaced water. I heard wet droplets falling from the oars, splashing gently, reuniting with Mother Lake. I heard the measured kersplash of the oars reentering the water. Every sound was music to my ears, especially Rebekah’s laugh. She was enjoying the evening, and I was in love! We reached the channel. I turned the boat around and rowed back the way we had come.

Twilight had driven the last shades of orange and red from the sky. With the sun banned from the heavens, night fell quickly, cloaking the sky and lake in tenebrosity. It was darker than I had anticipated. I was not worried! I knew the way. Just a short row in that direction! I would have to hurry, though. The law of the lake after dusk demanded a flashlight and a whistle be in the boat. I had neither!

Not the Way to Impress a Girl

I rowed us back, but when we got there, we were not back where we started! Somehow, I rowed us into the the wrong cove! What had I done? I was lost, but how? Was I so twitterpated by a pretty face that I lost my sense of direction? I turned the boat around and rowed back towards the channel. I hoped to find the right inlet, get my girl safely home, and salvage my date. Getting lost on a lake at night was not funny. Certainly, it was not the way to impress a girl!

The time was after nine o’clock. It was dark! Flickers of light from lake houses and docks looked like stars from galaxies far away. They reflected on the water in shimmering beams of white. Sadly, none was a beacon to lead us home. The blackness of the night had erased all landmarks. I had no idea which way to go!

Idle banter and gaiety ceased between us, replaced by nervous laughter and anemic conversation. “Let’s try that way!” became the oft-repeated phrase of the night. Hopeless reality taunted me each time I rowed across the channel. With each crossing, panic tightened its grip around my heart and mind, determined to squeeze the life out of me!

We encountered people out on their docks, fishing, smoking cigarettes, or both. We asked them all, “How do we get back to the language school?” They either did not know or just wanted us to leave them alone. All seemed to point back the way we had just come. For over three hours, I rowed the boat back and forth across the black expanse of the lake.

1,150 Miles of Shoreline – 54,000 acres of water

The Lake of the Ozarks was a big man-made lake backed up behind Bagnell Dam. Most of it filled the valley cut by the Osage River. A secondary river, called the Niangua River, also lent its waters to the reservoir. The serpentine course of the two intersecting streams spilled into countless coves, filling the hollers between the surrounding hills. On a map, or from space, the lake would look like a ragged Chinese dragon. Its shoreline stretched almost 1,150 miles and encompassed over 54,000 acres of water!

If it had been daylight, we would have seen every square inch of the shore! Now that would have been a date to remember! Getting lost with me on the lake at night would also be something Rebekah never forgot. I did not want her to remember me in that way!

I rowed up to another dock. On it were three people, two guys and a girl, all about our age. “Do you know how to get to the mission language school?” I asked. They confessed they did not know where our campus was, but seemed sympathetic towards our plight. Sympathy would not get us home, though! Sadly, I rowed back into the darkness.

The channel was wide and we were somewhere out in the middle of it when we heard a motorboat approaching. We looked towards the sound and saw a searchlight canvassing the water, all the time closing in on us. I was afraid of two things. First, because we did not have a flashlight, we were about to be run over by the speedboat! The second thing I feared was that it was a patrol boat. I did not want to get a ticket for not having a flashlight and whistle with me. Thankfully, the light found us, locked onto us, and the boat approached us slowly. We were safe!

It was not an officer on patrol! In the bigger boat were the three young people we had talked to at the last dock. Their concern for us had turned into action. They came seeking us on the water. One of the men threw a rope to me. I tied it to the bow of our boat and off we went.

The propeller of the big boat churned the water up into monster mountains and voluminous valleys. The wake fanned out behind us, disappearing into the darkness. Of course, our small craft had to skip over the tops of those watery peaks. It was rough going. Our boat was shaking so badly we had to hang on for fear of falling overboard. The young woman saw our predicament and told the skipper to stop. She pulled on the rope drawing our small boat alongside their big cruiser. “Come! Get in our boat!” she implored. Gladly, we abandoned our small shaky craft for the security and steadiness of the bigger boat. What a relief!

Soon, we left the main channel and headed into one of the many coves. The driver steered the boat up to a well-lit dock.

“What’s this? I asked.

“It’s your school!” the woman said.

“No, its not our school!” I replied. I knew there was Christian conference complex a few coves north of ours. It was a fancy place with lots of lights around the dock and lakeside. I was sure this was that place and that our campus was to the south. We just had to find the right cove! I explained all that to our rescuers.

The Only Beacon that Pointed Towards Home

We headed back to the main channel and turned south. By now, it was after one o’clock in the morning. We entered another cove. The skipper steered the boat up to a forlorn little dock illuminated by a single light on a wooden pole. I was overjoyed to finally see the only beacon of light, one out of thousands, that pointed towards home. Our ordeal was finally over!

My date with Rebekah had not gone as planned. Sure, I got to spend over five hours with her. Most of that time was filled with stress and worry with little time to get to know her. I was not the hero that night. I was not the knight that rescued the damsel in distress, especially not dis-strawberry-dress! I was the one who got her lost.

The heroes that night were three strangers in a speedboat. They felt empathy for two souls lost in the dark on the lake. They gave up their plans. They left the comfort and familiarity of their own dock and home. They went out of their way, using their boat and gas to diligently seek us. Without them, we were lost and completely helpless to find our way home. They saved us!

Days later, Rebekah and I talked, again. She told me she would go out in the boat again if I asked her to do so. I was encouraged! She also shared something she had read recently, “If God wants to do something wonderful, He starts with a difficulty. If He wants to do something very wonderful, He starts with an impossibility.” What did this quote mean to her? Was I a difficulty or an impossibility? I did not know!

In the weeks that followed, I asked her out a few more times. I was thrilled each time she said yes. I did not hanker for another disaster date. I thought it best to keep our feet on dry land. I erased “boat ride” from my list of things to do with Rebekah and did it so thoroughly that I wore a hole in the paper of my mind!

All I got from that long ago relationship was a broken heart and a tale to tell. With the passing of time, the story got easier to share with others as embarrassment over that night’s events turned into laughter. I have told the tale to individuals and to groups of people! This post is the first time I committed it to paper.

Jesus Came to Seek and Save

You see, every human born into this world is lost in the dark on the lake called Life. All of us are helpless to save ourselves. We chase after riches, pleasures, and fame. None of these are a beacon to lead us home to our creator.

We are bound for God’s wrath, but let’s be clear, God does not send us to hell! We do that ourselves and were already on that path the day we were born. In ourselves, we can not change our eternal destination. Ephesians 2:3 puts it this way, “Indeed, all of us once behaved like them in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of our flesh and senses. By nature, we were destined for wrath, just like everyone else.” We are all born with a sinful nature that separates us from a holy God.

Our loving Father in heaven sent Jesus to deliver His lost creation. Luke 19:10 says, “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” He lived the perfect life, a life we could not live because we are sinners. He took our punishment; He died the death that should have been ours. On the cross, He took our sins upon Himself and gave us His righteousness so that we could be made right with God. Ephesians 2:4,5 says, “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.

Jesus is the Hero in God’s Love Story

The hero in God’s love story is, of course, Jesus. He feels empathy for all souls lost in the dark on the lake. He gave up his glory to be born in a smelly manger. He left the comfort and familiarity of heaven. He left His Father, and went out of His way to diligently look for us when we were lost and helpless to find our way. He gave His lifeblood to pay the penalty for our sins. He saves all those who put their faith in Him. Salvation is by grace, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:8,9. God, by His Spirit pleads with humanity, “Come, Get in the boat!”

For us Christians, who have lost our way (not our salvation), Christ says the same, “Get back in the boat!” All too often, we dive back into the waves to swim after the elusive things the world has to offer. We are twitterpated by so many things around us. Sin still has an allure that wants to drag us back into its orbit. Even good things can pull us away from Him. God wants the best plan for us, but often we settle for just the good. If we stay with Jesus in the boat, we will still go through external storms, but He speaks peace to our inner turmoil. He knows exactly which beacon will lead us home to the Father! Why? Because He is the light!

How about you? Are you in the boat?

All Scripture used in this post is from the New International Version of the Bible

More Writings by Phil

My Angel Smoked A Cigarette

Dancing With Death At The Crossroads

In Search Of Nomads

Mud Slinging of the Soul

Writings By Phil