“So, this is what mutiny looks like,” I thought to myself.

It was the summer of 1973 and my new unit, 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines, was conducting amphibious raid training along the Southern California coast. My infantry platoon of 42 Marines was already at the beach when I arrived, and my platoon sergeant explained the problem. Six of my Marines were non-swimmers, and getting them into a seven-man rubber boat was not something they were inclined to do.

I had a slight advantage over most new lieutenants in that I had been an enlisted Marine for seven and a half years before receiving a commission. My three years in Vietnam had netted (using fishing language here) three Purple Hearts and numerous decorations. In today’s parlance, that equated to “street cred,” so they agreed to my plan to all be in my boat. What could go wrong?

Things went exceptionally well for the next week until the night landing. My captain was a Gulf Coast Florida boy unacquainted with the Pacific Coast wave patterns. The signal to head to the beach was ill-timed, and after riding a huge wave for what seemed like an eternity in the dark, the nose of the boat caught on the wave, catapulting us into the surf. Every one of my Marines pulled the cord to the CO₂ inflation cartridge on their already-inflated life jackets, effectively blowing them up. Each one had a salt-water-activated light on their vests, so I was able to get each one on their feet in the hip-level water where we landed.

I’m not sure if it was that action that did the job, but they all continued to get in the boat with me for the remainder of the training. Suffice it to say, they were not fans of deep water!

To be honest, many of us Christians are not excited about deep water either. I’m comfortable staying in the shallow waters of Christianity, where I can accomplish things in my own strength and with my own wisdom. Knowing that, Jesus will send us into the storm. After feeding the five thousand, Jesus sent His disciples across the Sea of Galilee while He went up a mountain to pray. He then walked across the water to the ship.

Though they were seasoned fishermen, they were suddenly overtaken by a severe storm, because the “wind was against them” (Matthew 14:24, ESV). The King James Version says that the winds were “contrary.” We are all familiar with the story that follows. Peter asks Jesus to call him out on the water, which He does. Peter gets bad press because he started to sink, but people forget that he was the only one that got out of the boat.

Just as my Marines learned to trust me to go out into the deep, so also we need to learn to trust Jesus as we head out to deep waters. What do I mean by deep waters? A little refresher course is in order.

Walking along the Sea of Galilee early in His ministry, Jesus saw Andrew and Simon Peter in their boats. “And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men’” (Matthew 4:19, ESV). Sounds simple, right? But then the curve ball gets thrown in. One day, after preaching to the crowd from Peter’s boat, Jesus said to him, “Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets” (Luke 5:4, KJV). Peter reluctantly complied, as they had fished all night without success. They caught so many fish that both ships began to sink.

If we are truly fishers of men, we need to “launch out into the deep” where effective fishing takes place.

I was in a church group in Israel, and we had a worship service sailing on the Sea of Galilee. These words spoke to my heart: “You call me out upon the waters, the great unknow where feet may fail. And there I find you in the mystery, in oceans deep my faith will stand” (Hillsong, “Oceans”).

Shallow-water Christians will never be fishers of men. Jesus calls us to launch out into the deep with no visible shoreline and only King Jesus calling us to trust in Him. “So, I will call upon Your name. And keep my eyes above the waves. When oceans rise my soul will rest in Your embrace. For I am Yours and You are mine” (“Oceans”).

In these dark days, the souls of men have gone into the deep. I need to hear the voice of the Master who will tell me when it is time to let down the net.

What say ye, Man of Valor?