The Park Road Pulpit

With those words of confidence, with those words of arrogance, one of the great stories, and one of the tragic tales of maritime history begins. [2]

The Titanic was conceived in 1907 by the managing director of Britain’s White Star Line, Bruce Ismay, whose ego was as large as his ambition. His nautical masterpiece, the largest floating object ever built, was a match for them both. When she was launched on May 31, 1911, the Titanic was the most incredible combination of engineering and etiquette imaginable. Her statistics still boggle the mind: 882 feet, 6 inches in length, 175 feet from keel to funnel. Her 45,000-ton figure was propelled by two four-cylinder engines, which were fueled by 650 tons of hand-shoveled coal every single day, producing 30,000 horsepower between them. When she set sail on her fated maiden voyage, she carried 75,000 pounds of fresh meat, and over 30,000 bottles of drink for her 2200 passengers.

The night of April 14, 1912 was gorgeous on the North Atlantic. The frigid sea was a flat calm. The sky, crystal clear. At 11:40 p.m. few people aboard noticed the ten-seconds of strange chatter along Titanic’s starboard side. It was just ten seconds. It was just ice against one-inch-thick steel. And the damage was only twelve-square-feet opened to the sea, alongside almost three football fields of riveted hull.

Along with Bruce Ismay, the ship’s builder, named John Astor, was aboard. Immediately summoned to the bridge, Astor made a quick evaluation of the damage and uttered spine-tingling words, “She will sink. It is a mathematical certainty.”[3]

Because of ignorance and arrogance, detailed in a host of human errors, large and small, 1500 people met an unimaginable fate that night -- drowning to death while locked deep in the bowels of a floating city, jumping to their death before the rising-sinking ship took its twelve-mile plunge to the bottom of the sea, freezing to death, slowly, in 30-degree water, their cries unheeded, even by the passengers and crewmembers alike who paddled away from the scene in mostly underutilized lifeboats.

That shipping lane, from the coast of England to New York City, was well-worn by passenger ferries and freighters. If only there had been another ship that night, perhaps the disaster would have been avoided. If only someone to hear the repeated plea for help. If only someone to see eight white flares, her signs of great distress… If only someone at another helm, alert, alive, willing to take a chance through a field of floating ice…

[Amy at right] At 11:15 pm that night a young wireless operator named Cyril Evans had delivered a message of caution to the Titanic. Evans was employed aboard a ship called the Californian. Bound from London to Boston, this much smaller vessel was traveling with only its crew aboard, and was running parallel to the Titanic. From the location of the Titanic’s collision with that dark iceberg, this smaller ship was within range, for it lay still, no more than ten miles to the south. Before midnight, the Californian’s fourteen-year veteran captain, an ill-tempered sailor by the name of Stanley Lord, had ordered his ship’s engines silenced. Making his first trans-Atlantic crossing amid ice, Captain Lord, as it would be painfully obvious much later, would take no chances that night.

Onboard the Titanic, the Californian’s warning went unheeded. Jack Phillips was overwhelmed, relaying messages from passengers who were excited about their maiden-voyage on “The Unsinkable.” Too busy to be interrupted, Phillips replied to the warning of ice only with a rude, “Shut up, Shut up…” Shortly after this dismissal, Cyril Evans turned off the Californian’s only source of contact with a dying world, and retired for the night.

On deck, Captain Lord and Second Officer Herbert Stone noted the night’s “exceptional visibility” as they watched a ship on the horizon to the North. They disagreed about its size, though one of them suggested it might be the Titanic. Through ten miles of clear night these men noted, about 11:40 p.m., that this ship had suddenly stopped.

Thinking the ship had paused for the night, Captain Lord made his way below, but an hour later he did come back to inquire. Office Stone told him the ship had not moved, but that he had seen five flares on that horizon. The Captain asked about the flares. They all appeared to be white, Stone told him, the universal signal for distress at sea. The Captain noted the observation, but took no further action.

After the captain again retired to his quarters, Officer Stone and apprentice officer James Gibson continued to watch the ship. At one point, one of the officers noted that the ship seemed to be listing. The younger officer commented that something “looked queer.” “Something must be wrong,” Stone agreed. After noting three more white flares, these officers actually watched the lights of the Titanic being extinguished, but fearing their captain’s fierce temper, they allowed the senior officer to sleep until his usual waking hour of 4:30 a.m. Even then, after the Captain had awoken for the day, another full hour passed before Cyril Evans was roused from his sleep and told to warm up the wireless.

Only then did Captain Lord begin a slow approach through the ice field to the Titanic’s last known position, and even at a snail’s pace, within two hours the Californian had reached the site of the downed vessel. By this time, two other ships were also approaching, so instead of beginning an immediate search for survivors, Captain Lord made his way back south, toward the closest, incoming rescue ship. Making contact with that liner at 8:30 a.m., Captain Lord decided there was nothing he could do.

[Russ at left] The ship with whom Captain Lord exchanged those signals was called the Carpathia. Traveling in the opposite direction of the Titanic, just after midnight, when the wireless message passed over the Californian’s now-empty station, the Carpathia did hear the Titanic’s call for help. Ironically, that signal was a new distress signal, recently adopted as an international standard. The Titanic was the first ship to ever send an SOS at sea!

At the wireless, Harold Cottam immediately delivered the SOS to Captain Arthur Rostron, who identified his location as 58 miles to the south of the Titanic. Without a thought for the comfort of his crew, or the convenience of his 800 passengers, three days into a Mediterranean destination, Captain Rostron reversed course as quickly as possible.

While Captain Lord slept, within sight of the sinking Titanic, Captain Rostron sprang into action. Careful not to awaken his passengers and spread panic, his crew was quietly notified. Rostron had quickly, but meticulously, lined-out orders, making every preparation possible.

Lights and netting were strung alongside the ship to aid in the coming rescue. Hot coffee was prepared and blankets were gathered to warm survivors. The full medical staff prepared to receive the injured. All public areas aboard the ship were made ready to give comfort to those traumatized by their living nightmare.

When Captain Lord finally had mobilized his ship, he had done so with utter caution. Traveling a meager 4 knots, Lord was still thinking of his own fate. 58 miles south Captain Rostron ordered the heat turned off in all passenger cabins in order to redirect every ounce of steam to his ship’s engines. The Carpathia’s top speed was listed as 14 knots, but en route to the Titanic, having set aside his passengers’ comfort and having posted extra lookouts to minimize the risk of hitting an iceberg, himself, Captain Rostron’s aging ship reached a speed of 17 knots.

The course set, the ship underway, all preparations being made, Captain Rostron paused on the bridge and prayed.

By 9:15 a.m., just behind the empty Californian, Captain Arthur Rostron and the Carpathia set out for New York with all 705 survivors of the unsinkable Titanic.

[Amy back to the pulpit] Choose this day whom you will serve. All individuals have to choose. All churches have to choose. Whom will we follow?

Will we serve the “gods beyond the river?” The gods of comfort and convenience. The gods of fear and blissful ignorance? The gods of the status quo? In extensive inquiries, conducted by both American and British officials, though he was roundly criticized for his lack of action, no official charges were ever brought, for Captain Lord had broken no official laws. In fact, Stanley Lord continued serving as a sea Captain for many years, though his greatest challenge would no longer be the ocean deeps, but the fight to save his own, tarnished name.

Too many of us, especially we, who call ourselves by the name of the Christ, have tarnished his good name, taking the easier course, instead of following his demanding way. For there are desperate cries for help all around us. Lives suffocating in the misery of poverty amidst a nation of plenty. Lives drowning, still, in racism, sexism, class conflict. Lives crumbling in brokenness, loneliness, frustration and fear.

Choose this day whom you will serve. All individuals have to choose. All churches have to choose. Whom will we follow?

North 52 West is never a direction in life we would ever simply choose -- but in Jesus Christ we have also come to recognize, in the midst of a world of tragedy and sure death, that the Way of sacrifice, of denial, of self-giving love -- that the Cross -- is really the only Way that leads to life.

In Jesus Christ we have come to understand the danger of traveling “Full Speed Ahead,” amid dark skies, deep seas, and dangerous ice all around -- but in Jesus we have also come to know the God who, for us, always risks something big, for something good. In Jesus, we have come to know that the world in which we live is now too dangerous for anything but truth, and too small for anything but love.

For a year now, your Vision Team has been listening. Listening to you. Listening to our community. Listening, intently, for the voice of God. The challenge they put forth is not a subtle way of saying that Park Road Baptist has had no vision in the past. In fact, the opposite is true. It is a way of claiming those values and our history, and, on those, charting a course for our future.

That challenge is also not a suggestion that this church needs to be turned around 180 degrees. It is not a suggestion that we are sitting still, complacent and apathetic, our “wireless” shut down, our eyes closed. But it is a call. For in all of our listening, the Vision team has heard, clearly, a world around us sending ever-more distressing signals for help.

The challenge of the Vision Team is simply to place a directional signal before you: Becoming Disciples through Worship and Service.

Becoming Disciples through Worship and Service is our “North 52 West.” It is a directional signal that will guide us over years, together. We will not become a different church overnight. It is a directional signal that asks you to respond, as individuals, and asks us to respond as a church, with greater involvement meeting the needs of the world around us, from Charlotte to Cuba… and beyond.

[moving to pulpit] You have spoken about a desire to be more involved in this community. A desire to improve our facilities for fellowship and service. And in listening for a word from God, the Vision Team believes that your instincts are right. Let us not loose our nerve. Let us not loose our confidence. Let us set our course for the future:

The prayer was introduced and ended with a trumpet fanfare, taken from Leonard Bernstein’s “Fanfare for the Common Man.” Amy sang the hymn, “Lord, Here am I,” by Fanny J. Crosby.

[1] The sermon is completely original in content, though we are indebted to Dr. William E. Hull of Birmingham, AL, for the concept. Dr. Hull has developed a sermon utilizing the story of the Californian and the Carpathian, whose call and challenge is identical to that developed in this sermon. It was from that idea that we developed this sermon.

[2] All of the facts for the telling of this story have been taken from the book, “Unsinkable,” the Full Story, by Daniel Allen Butler.

[3] These words were uttered in the recent movie version of the tragedy. I have not found them in the books I have read as being attributed to Astor.