Risks Worth Taking

Last September, I was halfway up the mast of a tall ship when the world shifted beneath my feet. When I began my ascent, the ships’ heel over offered a favourable climbing slope. But just as the soggy rope ladder narrowed towards the top, we rounded a race buoy, the skipper called for a change of course and the whole vessel lurched to the opposite side. I found myself clinging at an overhanging angle with white caps dancing below. By the time my feet returned to the cedar deck, my heart was an adrenaline pump. 

The story in the cockpit was even more dramatic. My husband, who it’s safe to assume has never before steered an eighteenth-century fishing vessel, had mistaken a command and taken our ship along with its 40 passengers dangerously close to a protruding spit. The skipper had briefly taken control of the wheel, righted our course and with a chuckle muttered, “well that’s the closest I’ve ever been to Clover Point.” He later showed us on the depth charts that just a few feet separated the Pacific Grace from a bad encounter with the ocean floor. 

Why take the risk? Why invite a 26-year-old salesman to take the helm of a 170-ton ship? You may find this hard to believe, but my husband has more life experience than those who usually stand at this ship’s helm. Every week, the Pacific Grace welcomes aboard a new cohort of teens and young adults with little to no ocean-going experience. There’s no entrance survey or skills assessment. Every young sailor is offered the same opportunities and responsibilities regardless of his or her academic or behavioural record. 

THE HIERARCHY OF ABILITY
At first glance this struck me as unwise. Sure, most kids can handle it, but what about the outliers in each crowd? The scrawny, the moody, the rambunctious, the lazy, the delinquent? Wouldn’t it be wiser to call upon the more qualified kids for the toughest jobs and assign diminishing responsibility according to each one’s ability? Certainly that would be the safer way to go about things. 
I hear patterns of this logic in my own heart. I have pleaded with God: “But I am so qualified, so eager, so hardworking, so committed. Why wouldn’t you give me the most important task in your kingdom?” There are other moments where I whisper under my breath: “Oh God not me. This is too much. I wouldn’t know where to begin. There must be someone better suited for this task. I’m the risky choice.” 

If we listen closely, we hear this hierarchy of ability echoing in our church foyers and sanctuaries. 

“Well I’m not the sort of person who would serve on council. No one wants to hear my opinions.” 

“I’d love to help out, but I don’t think I have the skills to lead.”

“Oh don’t ask her, she’s not so dependable; let’s ask someone we know can handle this.”

ALL HANDS ON DECK
Tall ships turn this sort of hierarchy of ability on its head because the ship would never leave the dock without every single hand taking up the slack. This is how a student who might usually take a back seat in classroom activities soars with courage when asked to furl sails aloft. The kid who usually finds himself at the bottom of the grade curve tutors his classmates in knot tying. The two who are always at odds in class politics can unlock dazzling teamwork when tasked with the dangerous and dirty task of raveling an anchor chain. 

Would thousands of teens have found transformation on Pacific Grace if Captain Tony had taken the less risky route and always kept his hands on the wheel? How can those of us with a steady hand on the helm find healthy ways to risk handing off responsibility? 

Pastor Wilma van der Leek, facilitator of the B.C. Leadership Development Network, says relationships are the answer. She points us towards the great mentoring pairs of the Bible like Paul and Timothy or Elijah and Elisha, men who were more like roommates than colleagues.  Van der Leek says the intimacy of their relationships provides “a picture of intentional and personal involvement with other leaders for the sake of God’s work in the world.” Those of us who are leaders must risk not only the dangers that come at the moment of handoff, but also our own pride as we offer future leaders authentic access to our real lives and inner doubts. 

Eating together, praying together, laughing together, crying together – this is how we cultivate relationships that lead to shared leadership. There are able bodies waiting on deck, anchored by insecurity and our ship will never leave port if we don’t assume the best, take a risk, and toss them a line.