What Songs Would You Sing on the Titanic?

“I will pour out my Spirit
on every kind of people:
Your sons will prophesy,
also your daughters.
Your old men will dream,
your young men will see visions.”

Joel 2:28 (The Message)

Lately, I’ve been having the strangest dreams. Some of them, I think, would make great stories. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream about a washed-up lawman whose demons cost him his marriage and his job. He has no reason to live until someone kidnaps his young daughter, and then those old lawman instincts kick up and he goes on a hunt for whoever was responsible—along the way, reclaiming his purpose and finding redemption.

Cinematic, eh?

Last night I had another of those odd, cinematic dreams. This time, I was aboard the luxury liner Titanic. I remember dropping aboard ship sometime after the collision and hearing the crew discuss the fact that it took only eight seconds to destroy the ship’s bow and doom the liner.

Imagine that. Eight seconds of ice scraping metal would seal the fate of more than fifteen hundred souls and relegated a machine that took years to build into the annals of history.

So I’m sitting next a window on one of the upper decks. Looking out, I can’t even see the ocean. The ship is so big and steady, the upper decks so high up, I remember smiling at crew as they scurried. Titanic, I reasoned, was strong and safe and no brush with ice would bring her down.

Then it happened. A crewman came rushing in to report that the bow was underwater. I looked out the window again and saw the ocean looming dangerously close, the ship’s lights reflecting on all the ripples in the dark water. I jumped from my chair filled with a sudden knowledge of what would happen based on all those movies and documentaries—a terrible, terrible end to drown in icy water trapped inside a coffin of steel. Or even worse, freezing to death in the dark.

I ran up a flight of stairs to the top-most deck and saw the chaos unfolding. Crowds of people fighting for seats on lifeboats, a panic-stricken crew trying to maintain order. I ran up the sloped decks toward the back of the ship and passed the band, playing their stringed instruments. I knew those musicians were trying to calm the crowd, to distract them from their impending doom.

It was right about that point in my dream when I heard God ask me, quite pointedly, “What are you going to do with your last minutes? Are you going to keep running around aimlessly? Or are you going to do something worthwhile?”

I found a doorway nearby and stepped inside, down some stairs, and wound up in a room that I’m fairly certain never existed on the actual Titanic. This room was elaborate, dark wood paneling on the walls, stained glass windows. At first I thought this was a smoking lounge, then a smoking room. But then I saw pews.

These pews were hand-carved with velvet pads of crimson. Some had been vandalized, with initials carved deep into them, marring them.

These pews were empty.

Desperate, dirty people filled the room, clinging to each other in these pews. By now, the ship was nearing its end, and the floors were sloped sharply. These people looked at me, wanting to know what was going on outside—some argued that the ship wouldn’t sink, no matter how bad it looked. Others begged for swift death.

I looked around this room and remember thinking that it was smaller than it should be. And then I raised my hands and began singing. Oh praise Him, Oh praise Him, for He is holy, He is holy.

As I sang, I remember thinking it was foolish. These people looked like immigrants, they probably couldn’t speak English, had no idea what I was doing. But slowly, those people started singing too. Some knelt to make their peace with God.

I switched lyrics. Hallelujah, hallelujah, He is holy, He is holy.

Even in a dream set a century ago, my mind recalled the present day context of worship. And as I continued singing my modern song in this dream, I remember thinking that no matter what horrible things happen, it doesn’t change who Jesus is.

I woke up watching a woman wrapped in a hooded wool coat hold her children tight, and I woke up with one question that has hounded me all day. What would I sing if I were trapped on the Titanic? What would I do if I knew life was about to end?

To be honest, I know it wouldn’t go anything near like that dream.