Man Overboard

Many aspects of my Navy training were about preparing for the unexpected—fire drills, uniform inspections, and man overboard drills. Each one is designed to help those training in the Navy to respond quickly and efficiently when things go wrong.

Just last week, while sitting along the Severn River, the sound of six short blasts on a ship’s whistle pulled me right back to those drills. The Man Overboard call. It all came flooding back—the urgency, the steps we’d take to respond.

Here’s how it worked on a Yard Patrol Craft (YP):

Communication: As soon as the call “Man Overboard” was made, everything kicked into gear. We didn’t know exactly when it would happen, but we knew it was coming. We were trained to be ready.

Marking the Location: You’d immediately mark the spot where the person fell overboard—whether with a flare or flotation device. This was crucial. A lookout kept eyes on the person and relayed updates to the quarterdeck.

Preparing for Rescue: The quarterdeck team had a set plan—headings and speeds- all calculated to bring us back to the person as fast and safely as possible.

Navigating Back: But you had to be careful. You couldn’t just rush back in. You had to account for the man overboard drift and approach with caution. Safety first. Always.

Recovering the person and providing care followed—getting them safely aboard and ensuring they were okay.

As I thought about those drills, I started wondering: Where else do we practice for life’s emergencies? I was reminded of a conversation with my kindergarten-age granddaughter. She told me about her school day and mentioned something called the “off-fire drill.” When I asked her what that meant, she said, “It’s like hide and seek, but you don’t want to be found because someone would hurt you.”

I knew exactly what she was talking about—a drill for an active shooter situation.

It’s sobering to think about, but here we are, preparing even five-year-olds for the dangers of their world. Let’s not get distracted by the politics of guns. The point is, just like sailors prepare to respond to a Man Overboard, children are being trained to survive in volatile, dangerous situations.

But what about the less apparent dangers we face every day? The ones that can slowly erode our beliefs in a good and loving God? Is there a “drill” for that?

Yes, there is. It’s immersing ourselves in truths so familiar that they come to mind as instinctively as any life-saving drill in moments of crisis. For people of faith, these truths are found in the Scripture. 

Take Psalm 23, for instance. We dwell on passages like this to remind ourselves who we are and where we live. It anchors us, giving us a path to follow when the storms of doubt and fear come crashing in.

So, how can we make this real and practical? Maybe memorizing Scripture seems dry, but think of it as a way to revive your imagination and fill your mind with life-giving words. Here’s how you could start:

• Pick a version of the psalm that resonates with you. Don’t be afraid to mix and match favorite words from different translations to make it personal.
• Print it out in large type, carry it with you, and glance at it whenever you have a spare moment—in line at the store, while walking, or before bed.
• Memorize it—it won’t be hard if you’ve heard it often. Go over it in your head while driving or waiting.
• Listen to Musical versions: This is a favorite of mine. Hearing how different artists render parts of the Scripture deepened my experience. Here is a Spotify playlist for Psalm 23 for you to enjoy.
• Pray it back to God. For example: “Lord, I trust You as my shepherd. Help me believe I have everything I need today.”
• Pray for others: “Father, be the shepherd for those in need today. Provide for them in ways they can’t imagine.”

If you want to take it a step further, interact with the images in the psalm. Look for pictures online that capture the metaphors—green pastures, still waters—and reflect on how they resonate with you. Write about what stands out. Even the things that might make you uncomfortable.

The point? As I have trained with Psalm 23, it has become more than just words to recite. It’s a prayer, a challenge, and a source of hope. Over the past month, once again, I’ve sat with this psalm, listening slowly and weaving its words into my everyday thoughts and actions. These practices are like drills—training my heart and mind to cling to truth, even when the storms of life inevitably come.