01/21/2026
Fun for All. All for Fun?
One of the world’s leading cruise lines has the slogan “Fun for All. All for Fun.” While cruising the world may conjure up images of exotic shore excursions, five-star meals and lively entertainment, as volunteer cruise chaplains, we are often faced with situations that are anything but fun. Amid all the promised fun and adventure, lie broken lives, wounded hearts, shame and guilt from poor life choices and, periodically, even life and death situations.
In 2017, Cindy and I served the dual role of chaplains and naturalists on the HAL – Oosterdam for five weeks. Even in the midst of this amazing time of sailing the fjords of Alaska and admiring God’s incredible handiwork, there were three deaths and two other medical emergencies on board the ship.
For one emergency, the ship had just sailed out of Sitka, Alaska. Cindy and I had just finished a busy day hosting two different shore excursions and were looking forward to hearing about each other’s adventures over a delicious dinner. We also anticipated getting acquainted with some new friends while looking for opportunities to explore where our tablemates were on their faith journey.
We had just ordered our dinner when the P.A. system in the main dining room cracked out notice of a medical emergency in process. I politely excused myself from the table and headed to the eighth deck. When I arrived, the hive of activity and personnel made it easy to detect which stateroom was involved.
Initially, although I wore a nametag identifying me as a crew member, most of the staff were uncertain about my presence and the role I could play amid all the chaos. As the chaplain, I began to assess the situation; soon, amongst the chaos and tight quarters, I was able to identify the patient’s husband, Tim. I introduced myself to him and began to actively listen to their story.
Tim was a retired Park Ranger supervisor from the National Park Service. He and his wife, Hillary, lived in Washington, where Hillary was a five-year oncology patient. The couple had come to their stateroom after a day of sightseeing to rest before dinner. When Tim attempted to awaken his wife, there was no response. He rolled her over on her back and realized she had stopped breathing, had no pulse, and her lips had already turned blue. Immediately, he called 9-1-1. Within minutes, the medical response team (two doctors, a team of nurses, the Guest Services manager, the Care Team director, the Chief of Security, and several support staff) arrived. Although Tim understood that Hillary was terminally ill and her death inevitable, he never dreamed it might end like this.
The medical team began CPR and worked diligently to revive Hillary. After much work, they were able to restore a faint pulse and enable her to breathe using a ventilator.
Once she had stabilized and been transported to the ship’s medical clinic, I offered to pray for Hillary. Although Tim had earlier admitted they were not a religious family, they did believe in God, and he was happy to allow me to intercede on her behalf. We committed Hillary to God’s care and asked Him to give the medical team the wisdom and ability to do what was best for Hillary.
Then came the challenging task of calling Tim and Hillary’s adult son and daughter, notifying them of their mother’s latest medical episode using the ship’s satellite phone. Once this was complete, I escorted Tim back to his stateroom and asked if there was anything else I could do for him. After fulfilling Tim’s request for something to drink and a snack from the buffet, I finally navigated to my own stateroom.
Totally exhausted—physically and emotionally—from the critical incident, I laid on my bed and turned on my audio Bible. It resumed at John 11:4, which says, “This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” In my weariness, I wasn’t sure how to interrupt the Scripture, whether it was just a coincidence or a divine promise in this situation. With those questions on my mind, I fell into a deep sleep.
Early the next morning, I met Tim at his stateroom, and we made our way downstairs to the medical clinic, unsure whether Hillary had survived the night or passed away. (Tim had requested the medical team to not disturb him. He had been anticipating her death for several years and there would be nothing he could do anyway.) We were surprised to find Hillary conscious, however extremely weak. Although she could not speak, she nodded her head affirmatively when I asked if she would like me to pray for her.
Hillary was soon transported to the hospital in Ketchikan and then airlifted to the Washington University Medical Center. Shortly after she arrived, she slipped back into a coma.
When the ship reached Seattle the following Sunday, I gave Tim a call, expecting the worst. Instead, I learned that Saturday morning Hillary had come out of the coma and had been taken off life support. She was breathing on her own and was able to get out of bed and walk nearly 100 yards. Now, the hospital was planning to dismiss her to go home and continue her recovery.
Delighted, Tim sent the ship’s leadership team involved in the medical emergency an email celebrating Hillary’s remarkable recovery. Upon discussing the email with the ship’s Chief Security Officer, who was from the Netherlands, his response was, “Nathan, isn’t that kind of like a miracle?”
“Yes, indeed!”
Even the most elegant and sophisticated of cruise lines cannot guarantee “Fun for All. All for Fun.” all the time. But when critical incidents do occur, the Master of the Sea still rules and reigns!
