Crossing the Bar: Finding the Pilot in the Storm

The Victorian age was a period of profound curiosity. People delighted in natural history, the sciences, and the arts. Yet, it remains perhaps the last era in world history where the prevailing belief was that nature made sense because God created it.

Alfred Lord Tennyson was a true Victorian gentleman and a poet of deep conviction. Though he was keenly aware of scientific trends that seemed to move away from God, his later poetry remained centred on a firm belief: the universe is subject to the laws of the Eternal God.

The Hope of the Far Shore

His most famous poem, “Crossing the Bar,” speaks of the hope of meeting God face to face after death. For Tennyson, death is like putting out to sea, letting the tide carry you out in the conviction that God awaits at the other shore.

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place / The flood may bear me far, / I hope to see my Pilot face to face / When I have crost the bar.

Alfred Lord Tennyson: “Crossing the Bar” (Stanza 4)

Reality at Sea: The Terror of the Storm

Tennyson’s poem is serene. It speaks of a “tide moving seems asleep” and requests “no moaning of the bar.” But as anyone who has been on the water knows, the sea is rarely that kind.

Consider the disciples in the Gospel of John. Their experience was not one of a peaceful sunset. It was dark. The sea was rising because a strong wind was blowing. They were three or four miles out, straining at the oars, when they saw a figure walking on the water.

They weren’t filled with Victorian peace. They were terrified.

The Shimmer on the Water

How often have we found ourselves in that same boat? We row against the winds of illness, financial strain, or grief. We look out across the “water of chaos” and, instead of seeing a saviour, we see a ghost. We see a far-off, ethereal hope that feels too thin to be real.

I recall moments when hope seemed like a far distant ghost—so unreal. I suspect each of you remembers similar times of difficulty.

The Miracle of Presence

The miracle of the Good News is precisely what happens in that moment of terror. Jesus comes alongside and repeats the words that empower us:

“It is I, don’t be afraid.”

When the disciples heard these words, they immediately wanted to take Jesus into the boat. And immediately, they reached the shore. In our own difficulties, when we hear those words in our hearts, our response is to cling to Him. He carries us to the shore where we are going.

A Modern Apology to Tennyson

Permit me to play with Tennyson’s imagery—with apologies to the great Victorian poet:

Dark and troubled sky, Cold wind assaulting me, And will even God not heed my cry Of terror out at sea?

The water, chaos, massive, deep, Heaving, breaking, foaming beast, Snatches hope away to keep And on my soul begin to feast.

A shimmer on rough water, A ghost to raise deathly fear! He draws ever so closer, Then whispers gently in my ear.

“’Tis I,” says He, “Afraid, you do not have to be!” Then bore me to safety through rough water, My Friend, my Pilot, and my Master!