The book Shipwrecked is built around the metaphor author Jonathan Martin uses to describe the time in a person’s life when everything s/he had built around seems to implode—a treasured relationship ends, the job that was a source of identity terminates, one’s health suddenly is in free-fall. When one’s ship (what was carrying one through life) crashes, what remains, Martin asks, as one seems to be drowning? He says, “It doesn’t really matter how you got here or why and it doesn’t really matter if it was God or the devil or yourself or some ancient chaos that spilled up from the bottom of the sea. What matters now, is that you are drowning and the world you loved before is not your world any longer...Your life feels like a funeral because there is a part of you that is actually dying” (Jonathan Martin, How to Survive a Shipwreck: Help is on the Way and Love is Already Here, Zondervan, 2016, pp. 20-21). In his case, he lost both his marriage (through divorce) and his life-consuming work (his role as the founding pastor at his church). “His drowning” was like a death experience of his former self, so he could experience resurrection to the new man and to the new life God wanted to create.
He says, “The theory I sailed to, better late than never, is essentially this: God can only be truthfully experienced from the underside of things…There are things that cannot be seen about God and life and the world and yourself from on top. Until you can see it all from flat on your back, you just aren’t seeing much at all…The only way our vision can be whole is to see the world through the lens of our brokenness…We see through the lenses of pride, ego, and competition. We cannot merely make a decision to see the world differently. Something has to happen to make us go blind first” (pp. 175-176, 178-179).
The book is a memoir and a model for others who rebuild their lives after shipwreck. In his last chapter he makes this plea to his readers:
“Please do not give up. You can think about it again tomorrow, but please not today. Please do not let yourself drown. Please do not let the merciless tides tread over your precious head. There is so much life for you. I know, because I found it and dear God, I want the same for you” (p. 216).
ML Codman-Wilson, Ph.D., 8/5/2016
Excerpts:
“Losing the boat is no small thing. To lose the boat is to lose the ground beneath your feet, the stories you told yourself and others…To lose the boat is to lose everything that kept you afloat before, to be thrown into the vast and merciless sea now alone with nothing left to protect you from its moody tides, the blazing sun above it or the black-eyed creatures that lurk beneath it. You can lose your boat, lose your house with all the pictures inside it, lose your job, lose your most defining relationship.
And still not lose you.
And still not lose your soul.
And still not lose your faith.
Make no mistake you will be stripped down in the shipwreck, but you will not be lost” (p. 34).
“After the shipwreck when the ship is still going down and all you have left are bits of it, still floating in the sea all around you, it’s nearly impossible to tell at first what will actually hold you up…Some of what was holding you up was built on lies, spin, and youthful delusions. You must let them float away. Some of the childish notions of how the world works—the illusion that you were ever truly in control of your life to begin with—you must let sink…But in the fragments, there are planks that remain—pieces of desire, of dreams, of hope, of imagination, of longing that rise to the top of you even now…They are no longer attached neatly together but they are still afloat in the swirling chaos of you…Grab something—anything—that will help you get through the night, that will help you make it to the shore…You only need one small plank, one reason not to give up, one reason to stay alive…today” (pp. 72-73, 75).
“You aren’t going to make it all the way to shore without running into some monsters, without staring them down, without naming them…Everything we tried to push down for so long—every flaw and fault we have denied or ignored, every truth we rather not come to terms with—all this will come to light in the crisis of a shipwreck and we’re not going to make it safely to shore unless we deal with these monsters we haven’t dealt with for so long” (pp. 111-112).
“The first discovery of the shipwreck is that we have a higher capacity for pain than we ever could have imagined before we lost, before we failed, before we suffered…The surprise on the other side of the shipwreck is that, while your capacity for pain improved far beyond our wildest reckoning, now you have a capacity to feel everything deeper. You are capable of a depth of empathy and compassion that would have been unthinkable before…And from this new-found capacity for pain, for sorrow, for torment, for agony, for endless waves of grief, comes the biggest surprise of them all—your new-found capacity for joy” (pp. 194-195).