The Light Never Goes Out: A NAMMA Christmas Meditation
On December 15, 2025, members of the North American Maritime Ministry Association gathered online for a Christmas Service of Light, Hope, and Waiting. More than twenty-five participants joined from across the maritime ministry community to share scripture, prayer, and reflection while celebrating Jesus Christ as the light of the world. Readings during the service were offered by the Rev. Marsh L. Drege (Lutheran), the Rev. Chris Moore (Port Ministries International), Deacon Paul Rosenblum (Stella Maris), Chaplain Michelle DePooter (The Ministry to Seafarers of the Christian Reformed Church), and the Rev. Judith Alltree (The Mission to Seafarers). The meditation, below, was given by the Rev. Joshua Messick, Executive Director of the Baltimore International Seafarers’ Center. Participants were encouraged to light a candle and/or display an Advent wreath as a sign of shared waiting and hope.
Grant, Almighty God, that your church may be so inspired by the example of your servant Nicholas of Myra, that it may never cease to work for the welfare of children, the safety of sailors, the relief of the poor, and the help of those tossed by tempests of doubt or grief; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
When Pandora’s box was opened, and all the world’s woes escaped, she tried to clamp the lid back down, but it was too late. The box was not left empty, though. Hope, which lay at the bottom of the box, remained.
The painting Hope was created by George Fredric Watts in 1886. It features a young woman, blindfolded, head downcast, and sitting on a globe that is devoid of all life. Desolate, it looks like a desert. She holds a broken lyre that has but one string remaining, and on that string she plays, straining her ears to catch any and all music that poor little string can produce; her ear is as close to it as possible, striving to pick up any hint of sound. The background is almost entirely blank, a dark blackish blue, except for one tiny detail.
Just above and behind the woman—outside of her field of vision—is one tiny star. The one pinpoint of light in the entire piece.
Watts created this piece right after his adopted daughter lost an infant child. He said, “I see nothing but uncertainty, contention, conflict, beliefs unsettled, and nothing established in place of them.” He was talking about British society as a whole, but his own life had been thrown into disarray.
At one point or another we all find ourselves at the bottom of the box, where everything else is gone, and it seems like despair is all that we have left. In the midst of death, loss, or misfortune, when we are tossed by tempests of doubt or grief, it can become all too easy to succumb to the emptiness, to be surrounded by that void, or in the middle of that desolate waste or ocean of despair.
In times like that, remember Hope and her broken lyre. When all we have left is a single string, we have to play it and strain our ears to listen to any hint of music, to remember what music sounds like, what good there has been in the world. And can be again. Even when we cannot bring ourselves to play, because all hope seems lost. Remember that there is always light, even if it seems small, even if we cannot see it, it is there. The box is never truly empty, and the light never really goes out.
The light of Christ is always with us, and when we remember it, when we hold onto it, even when all else is gone, it will grow. May we take it with us out to the world, onto the ships, into the hearts of the men and women that we are privileged to serve. May we find the places where there is only that pin prick of light and open wide the aperture to let hope be. Be more than hope. May the hope of Advent, turn into the light of our salvation.