Who Is Your Lighthouse?

It was a murky lunchtime run today which highlighted the lighthouse exhibit on Belfast Lough. I focused on it from some distance away and it inspired me to keep pressing forward through the blustery, wet conditions. Most other days I would have run past it without a second thought but it was there for me today, when I most needed it. Lighthouses are like that. Unappreciated 99% of the time until disaster strikes.

I’ve relied on human lighthouses throughout my life to guide me and, on occasion, rescue me from the storms that life throws at us. We should never take these people for granted. They are ever present and save lives. Take a moment today to say thank you to the lighthouse in your life. Or if you’re struggling to cope look out for that one kind soul who reaches out a hand to pull you to safety.

Who is your lighthouse?

Published by Fractured Faith Blog

We are Stephen and Fionnuala and this is our story. We live in Northern Ireland, have been married for 15 years and have three kids - Adam, Hannah and Rebecca. We hope that our story will inspire and encourage others. We have walked a rocky road yet here we are today, together and stronger than ever. We are far from perfect and our faith has been battered and bruised. But an untested faith is a pointless faith. Just as a fractured faith is better than none at all. We hope you enjoy the blog.

37 thoughts on “Who Is Your Lighthouse?

  1. What an awesome beacon of light to think about after you described your murky run! I will have to think about this – my rock is my hubby. He has been supportive of me from the very beginning no matter what. Thanks for this awesome post today – it was just what I needed

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  2. I had a very poignant dream about a Lighthouse that I shared some time ago. You might like it:. After some confusing/frustrating experiences, (I’m technologically challenged.) I’m not sure where a link might take you, so I’ve copied and pasted the gist of it:

    More often than not, I don’t remember my dreams. I wake up with a vague sense that I have dreamed something, but I usually can’t recall it, and that’s OK. Later in the morning, as I am giving my mind to God for the day, I will ask Him to help me forget what ought to be forgotten, and remember what I need to remember, including dreams. Sometimes as I pray that prayer, a dream will come back to me, and I immediately know what it was saying to me.
    A couple of months ago I had a dream that I remembered the moment I woke up, and to this day it has had an effect on the way I view my faith and my calling.
    We had experienced some storms over the summer that had knocked out the power and had toppled some trees. Limbs in the road were starting to be a familiar sight. So, the dream that I had that one night was so vivid that it seemed even more real than the average dream.
    In my dream, my friend Bre and I had walked to the end of the pier near our house. The waves of Lake Michigan were splashing against the base of the lighthouse, and we could see dark clouds approaching from the North. As the wind picked up and started whipping our hair and clothes around, I started to wonder how much longer we should stay on the pier. At that moment Bre and I said simultaneously, “We’d better get back.”
    When we looked behind us, the waves were washing over the pier in depths between 4 and 12 inches at any given moment. The pier looked slippery and treacherous, and there were no railings to hold onto.
    As the waves got bigger and the wind stronger, we realized it was highly unlikely that we could walk back to the shore.
    And then I saw the shore.
    Dozens of large trees had fallen, their tangled limbs forming an impenetrable hedge all along the shoreline.
    I was thinking we’d need to call a friend with a boat, or even the Coast Guard, but Bre and I realized that neither of us had a cell phone, and that the only chance of survival was to hang onto the lighthouse. At that point getting home before the storm was over had about 0% chance of success.
    The gravity of our situation was just beginning to sink in, and I woke up before it turned into a full-blown panic attack. As I lay in the dark, realizing this dream wasn’t dissolving into the night like most of my dreams, I pondered its meaning.
    Bre and I were at the end of the pier. What else is at the end of a pier?
    A lighthouse.
    What does a lighthouse do?
    It shines a light in the darkness. It prevents shipwrecks by warning of impending danger, and it guides ships from the storms of life into a safe harbor.
    Bre and I have some things in common, but the most important thing we share is our faith in Christ. As Christ-followers, it’s our duty to shine His light into the darkness, to warn people of the disaster that awaits if they keep going their own way and do not heed His Word, and to guide others to the safe harbor of His love. (I know, Cliche City here. Sorry.)
    But I saw something else in my dream about being “between a rock and a hard place.” As difficult as it was to stay out there in the storm, just hanging onto (being?) the lighthouse, it would be much harder, even fatal, trying to go back where we came from. Clearly there was no going back.
    I was sharing this dream with my friend Kelly, and she said, “But I know people who have gone back. They have renounced Jesus and no longer follow Him.” (How tragic!)
    I replied, “Well, then this dream was saying that for me, there’s no going back.”
    A few days later I received a text message from another friend, one I had seen on a trip back to my old home town. The text said how good it was to spend time with me again, and it closed with the statement, “You are a lighthouse.”
    I had never been called that before, but I thought with a wry smile, Yeah, I know…
    Has God called you to do something important for His kingdom? (If you profess to believe in Him, your answer had better be “Yes!”) Is it getting harder and harder? Are there storms? Have you thought that life was easier before you made a commitment to Christ? Are you tempted to go back?
    Don’t even think about it.

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  3. My husband has been my lighthouse for me. Our first years of marriage were awful, honestly, as I was battling an undiagnosed mental illness, and he was struggling with years of insecurity and repressed childhood trauma. However, he found the strength to love me unconditionally, love me like no one has ever loved me before. He has been by my side through chronic pain, through me becoming bedridden, through another dark spell of mental illness, and has been my faithful advocate and my hero. He has constantly fought for me, and with me when I’ve needed it. I married young, at 22, and I can’t imagine not being married at this point. I don’t think I would have made it through my twenties without him.

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  4. A fine reminder of gratitude. My lighthouse is my fiance, Tessandra, ever encouraging and supportive. My daughter, too, whom I attempt to inspire with the most human and noble qualities (though, perhaps, I don’t always succeed). And there’s writing too. It occurs to me that a lighthouse may well be our life’s meaning, our ‘why’ to living. As that strange half-mad German philosopher with the impressive mustache once wrote, “As long as there’s a why, one can endure any how.”

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  5. I think we can have a lot of different people who serve as lighthouses for us in the different seasons in life … and that is such a positive thing. So many people who light the way, and help us to find hope when all we see is darkness 🙂

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  6. Beautiful post. I wish to only add this quote: “
    “Look to the lighthouse of the Lord. There is no fog so dense, no night so dark, no gale so strong, no mariner so lost but what its beacon light can rescue.” – Thomas S Monson

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