Dan Owen, Newtown, Powys

Ever since my mother made the mistake of thinking I was asleep on the sofa at the age of six and inadvertently let me watch the film ‘Jaws’, I have tried to avoid flying over any ocean that has man-eating sharks.  So, I’m not sure I can request this, but could I please be stranded on a desert island in the Baltic? 

Which verses would you take to the desert island?

Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. Luke 12:32

I reckon that being stranded on a desert island, even if I’m in the Baltic far from any great whites, would be pretty jolly frightening. These words of Jesus ooze reassurance. They breathe peace into my heart whenever they even cross my mind, let alone have years to meditate upon.

First, they tell me that, no matter how fearful the circumstances, it gives my heavenly Father pleasure to bless me! I am so prone to drift into a wrong view of God’s heart towards me that I need constant reminding of His unconditional love for me. I need reminding that, no matter how often I stumble, no matter how often I fail, God absolutely and unequivocally and without qualification loves to bless me. There is a never-ending torrent of delight in blessing me flowing from the heart of my loving heavenly Father. What peace-giving reassurance that truth would bring as I chew on my fifth raw haddock of the day.

Second, I am in his little flock. It’s a lovely thing to hear your whimpering child on the landing alone in the dark at night, not having the foggiest where they are, petrified with night terrors - bear with me - and then to get up, turn on your bedroom light, open your bedroom door and see their faces light up with joyful relief as they see their loving Dad shrouded in light looking down on them with tender, loving care. As they leap into your arms, brimming with love and sympathy, I say, ‘It’s OK little one, Daddy is here’. In their little hearts they know that, though they are little and afraid, Daddy is strong and they’re safe now that they are with him and he is with them. That’s the reassurance I hear in these words of Jesus, my Shepherd, who is protecting me, providing for me and will always be with me, even when I’m out of everyone else’s sight and thoughts in the middle of the Baltic.

Finally, I reckon being stuck on a desert island might make me a little stir crazy.  I’ll need rock solid hope for the future. Jesus’ words remind that my future is unimaginably awesome for I am given the kingdom by my loving heavenly Father! It gives me strange reassurance knowing that I cannot even begin to fathom the depth or magnitude of this gift. I only know in small part what I am being promised, but one day I’ll know in full. I’ll always have hope in my nippy desert island home.

Who would you like to find on the island for company?

Well, I’d hold out before playing my ‘bring someone who has died along with you’ card.  There’s a 50/50 chance (from my perspective) that my wife would pop her clogs before me.  This would give me the unmissable opportunity to pretend that heaven is actually a desert island in the Baltic with her chubby hubby!  The expression on her face at that moment would keep me going in good humour for many, many years.

Which song would you take to the island?

I will sing the wondrous story

Of the Christ Who died for me;

How He left His home in glory

For the cross of Calvary.

Yes, I’ll sing the wondrous story

Of the Christ Who died for me,

Sing it with the saints in glory,

Gathered by the Baltic sea.

I was lost, but Jesus found me,

Found the sheep that went astray,

Threw His loving arms around me,

Drew me back into His way.

I was bruised, but Jesus healed me,

Faint was I from many a fall,

Sight was gone, and fears possessed me,

But He freed me from them all.

Days of darkness still come o’er me,

Sorrow’s path I often tread,

But His presence still is with me;

By His guiding hand I’m led.

He will keep me till the river

Rolls its waters at my feet;

Then He’ll bear me safely over,

Where the loved ones I shall meet.

Francis Rowley 1886