Ice, Ice-Bergy

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The Titanic museum in Branson, Missouri. This photo op was the closest I came to going inside.

In 2015, I developed an unhealthy obsession with the Titanic.

I’d never actually seen the movie until that summer when I spent the weekend at my Omi’s house. In addition to our usual thrift-shopping/garage-saling and me learning (or attempting to learn) to bake, our hang-out times usually involve a classic movie or two. When I was younger, we would watch Anne of Green Gables, eventually making our way through the entire series. Then right before I moved to Atlanta, we watched Gone with the Wind. And so it seemed only natural that in the summer before I left for Germany we would add Titanic to the list. After all, I needed to see it at some point, and watching it with my Omi seemed like the best possible choice.

Needless to say, the movie that has been proclaimed one of the best films ever produced did not disappoint. I laughed, I cried, and I found myself sucked into the love story despite already knowing the tragic ending. I finally understood why Titanic got and, even 20 years later, continues to get so much hype. It really is a masterpiece. Depressing, yes. But a masterpiece all the same.

My experience of the Titanic did not end with the credits. Fascinated by both the original story and the making of the film, I started compulsively reading trivia and facts on the IMDB page and other fan websites. I found out about the captain, the ship’s architect, the band leader, and all sorts of other real-life characters from the movie. I learned about the ship’s construction and the iceberg that sunk it. I discovered that there really was a Titanic passenger named “J. Dawson”, whose grave in Canada remains one of the most visited (and decorated) by strangers to this day. And I read analyses by self-proclaimed “experts” about how there actually would have been room for Jack on that piece of wood if Rose had simply moved over. And then several hours later with all of this fascinating yet depressing information crammed in my head, I went to bed.

… which proved to be a big mistake.

You see, not only had my waking mind latched onto the Titanic, but apparently my subconscious one had become obsessed with it as well. That night, I had the first of many recurring nightmares about the Titanic. Sometimes, I was trying to hold onto the railings of the bow as it broke in half and sunk. Other times I was running through the ship’s hold as it filled with water. And in still other versions, I simply jumped overboard and hoped to make it. But in all cases, I woke up feeling upset and more than a little bit freaked out. And to make things worse, these dreams lasted not just one night but on and off for several months.

That said, my nightmares probably would have stopped sooner, had it not been for Celine Dion. Because not only could the abnormal amount of Titanic trivia floating around my brain trigger my nightmares, but I started hearing “My Heart will Go On” everywhere. I’m not kidding. For the next several months, I would hear this song or an instrumental version of it at least once a week and sometimes every other day. To be fair, it probably didn’t help that I also listened to playlists of classical music and soundtracks to study for hours at a time. But be that as it was, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that this particular song was following me. And although there are worse stalkers that Celine Dion, I didn’t enjoy the nightmares that frequently accompanied her.

Fortunately, though, my Titanic-induced nightmares eventually faded away, and my sleep patterns finally returned to normal. Hallelujah. But recently, that doomed transatlantic liner has invaded my thoughts again in a relatively indirect, but no less impactful way.

Over the weekend, a dear friend let me know that I had recently behaved in an unkind and hurtful way. When I found this out, I felt awful. Not only had I been a jerk, but in the process I had hurt someone I care about. It’s one thing to do something stupid and harm myself, but it’s a completely different matter when my actions cause pain to another person. No Bueno. Even though after apologizing and receiving forgiveness, the situation and my action have continued to eat at me. And a few days ago, I realized why.

My sin is like that iceberg that sunk the Titanic. And because of that, my friend only saw the tip of a much deeper problem. Pride, selfishness, insecurity, envy, judgement—all these sins and more hide just below the surface of my life. While I’m often able to hide this, and I come off to most people as “nice” and “sweet”, I know the truth about what’s inside of me. My hurtful actions toward him were not an isolated problem, but the product of an iceberg’s worth of ugliness deep inside of me. Jesus recognized this about mankind (and about me) when He said, “For out of the heart come evil thoughts—murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander” (Matthew 15:19) and “Out of the overflow of the heart a man speaks” (Luke 6:45).

Needless to say, this is a hard pill to swallow, and I don’t particular enjoy being brought face to face with my own sin. But it’s far better than the alternative. You see, ignoring my sin or minimizing it is like not bringing enough lifeboats on the Titanic. It may work for a short time, but in the long run it will prove a tragic and costly oversight. Managing my surface-level symptoms will only go so far. If I really want to be free from own darkness, I need to admit that these sins live in me, and then bring them out into the light. Because try as I might (and try as I have), I can’t melt this iceberg on my own. I need God’s help to have an accurate view of myself and my sin. Though it’s painful and frustrating in the moment, it ultimately results in peace and freedom. This is why 1 John reminds us that “if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. But if we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

I have been reminded of this many times recently. While I would have rather not acted hurtfully to begin with, I am grateful that God used even those self-inflicted crummy circumstances to re-teach me a truth about myself, His goodness, and His grace. He sees the complete iceberg of my sin and loves me in spite of it. And together we can chip away at it, until one day this ugliness in me will be no more.

Alright, I’m thirsty and it’s time for a drink break. Ice water, anyone? 😉

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Seen at the ice-sculpting competition in the parking lot of the Branson Titanic Museum. Yes, you read that correctly.

 

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