“Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”

“The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:28-31

Skipper commands us ter love him with all our heart. Some of us been in love. We know how a feller’s heart aches ter be with tha one he loves. We should ache fer Skipper in tha same way he aches ter be with us.

Skipper commands us ter love him with all our soul, tha very part of us that last fer ever and ever and never goes away. Soul love be deep and that be what Skip asks—ter be his soul mate fer ever.

Skipper commands us ter love him with all our mind, keep him in all our thoughts, be thinking of him at all times. When ya be in love, ya kin ne’er stop thinking ‘bout yer love mate. Skipper be asking fer us ter be thinking on him all tha time—not ‘cause he commands it, but ‘cause we kin do nothing but ter think on him.

Skipper commands us ter love him with ever bit of strength we got. Sometimes love be hard. Sometimes love requires we pick Skip over something else, someone else, even over our self. Buck up. Show yer starch. Love Skip like he be tha thing ya love more’n all tha world.

Lastly, ya may have noticed yer self be at tha end of tha list. Folks like us be inclined ter heel towards our own tack and tacky self rather than Skipper. And if we don’ love Skipper we sure as salt not be able ter love our neighbor tha way Skip wants.

A good many folks get tha Son’s words out of order. They hear “Love your neighbor as yourself.” and think “how would I want to be loved?” Folks who think along these lines might be nice ter folks, but nice not always be love. Be nice ter lice and even tha mice ‘ill jump ship.

Tha Son says love not work tha way reprobates think. We don’ love ourself first, then our bunk neighbor, then Skip. We love Skip first, next our neighbor, then our self.

Get tha order right and ya kin love tha way Skip loves. Get tha order wrong and ya love tha way that old black-hearted scoundrel, the devil loves—and he don’ love a soul ‘cept himself.

“If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away.” –  Matthew 5:29  (Matthew 5:28-30)

I know I don’ need ter tell ya what tha Son means by this, mate. Yer eye wanders more’n the bow of an island trader loaded to the gunnels and wallowing in heavy seas. Ya kin hardly keep from looking at stuff ya ain’t meant ter see. Know what I’m talking ‘bout, ya do.

Thar be a reason why some of our crew wear eye patches. Some got eyes plucked in battle, others had a knuckle er two smash inter that wandering eye.

“Cut it out!” Ever wonder whar that phrase come from? Right here, mate. If yer right eye, left eye, and them eyes that see things when they be closed cause ya to do stuff you ought not, cut it out, mate.

Not with a dirk. Cutting out yer eye won’ stop ya from thinking on what ya seen. Ter keep from seeing stuff with yer eyes you ought not, ya have ter fill yer head with thoughts from tha Son. Get his words and thoughts in yer head. Look only ter him. His brightness be blinding. And in this case, getting blinded by tha Son be a right smart thing ter do.

Do that and ya can wink and nod at them old bad things ya once gazed upon and then sail on.

“Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.” – Matthew 5:48 

“Pert near perfect,” says you. “No need ter change,” says you. Only them that knows ya well, can cite all manner of ills that befall ya.

“Ah,” says you, “but no man be perfect. Alls got some affliction er ailment that befuddles him.”

Tis true, we got troubles, thar’s no denying it. But tha kind of perfection the Son speaks of be the sort where a man be fit fer the purpose which suits him best. Ter send a feller up tha rigging to unfurl sails would be a poor use of a gunner with a sharp eye. Be a sorry skipper that puts his crew in harms way by assigning men positions aboard fer which they be ill fitted.

Be perfect in the same way tha stars shine bright, guiding tha skipper. Be perfect in tha same way wind fills a sail. Be perfect, mate, same as him who made ya be perfect. Don’ be someone ya ain’t and were ne’re meant ter be.

Be up right with yer steps. In that ways, when ya walk tha deck ya won’ stumble and tumble overboards.

“Produce fruit in keeping with repentance.”– Matthew 3:8 (John the Baptist)

Some fruit keeps pert well. And some only keeps weevils and vermin fat and filled.

If ya don’ turn out the bad apples, rotten bananas, and figs what have fungus, you and all yer crew ‘ill get sick and worse.

Toss the old what be covered with mold, and get ya some fruit that keeps getting fresher with age. That sort only comes when ya turn from yer sorry ways and feast yer eyes on tha Son. What says ya? Will ya serve tha crew good grub er grub worms?

“If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.” – Matthew 5:29

Think, mate: how did ya get ter this point? It not be a woman or man ter blame. They not be tha problem. No, the trouble be that ya reached a point where ya ne’re could stop thinking ‘bout a body. But ‘fore ya got ter that particular port, ya seen trouble brewing and sailed on like ya could handle tha squall. Now where ya be? So twisted and yer mind so filled with thoughts that ya kin hardly think of anything but a body ya ought not ter be thinking of.

Next time yer right hand grips the helm and steers ya towards trouble, take them digits and put’em in yer pocket. Think on how tha Son feels when he be warming ya. Ain’ no lass on land or sea who kin love a body tha way tha Son kin.

Best ter stand yer watch at the helm with yer right hand tucked tight behind her back than ter get strung up on the gallows fer thinking thoughts and taking liberties in yer head ’bout a body not meant fer ya.

“Many are invited, but few are chosen.” – Matthew 22:14

Be fer a vessel sets sail, tha captain ‘ill often put out a call fer crew. Any manner of feller might show up at that wharf. Why tha rabble might be drunks and knaves, orphans and lads of royalty running from home. Matters not ter tha captain what make or pedigree they be. Question is, kin they pull an oar, hoist a sail, stand a watch and fire straight.

This here word of warning from tha Son comes after a tale he told ‘bout some king who hosted a wedding, sent out invitations, and them on tha list refused ter show. Well, with tha feast prepared and that crowd ter make merry, he ordered his crew to put out a call. All who responded got britches and jacket, hat or bonnet fer tha event. ‘Cept thar be one feller who snuck in without tha right attire. Still wearing his smelly, grubby, fishing and fighting outfit—and seeing tha sorry lot ahead of him waltzing in—he figured he be welcomed.

‘Cept, as ya well know, once ya sign on with a vessel, ya have ter abide to the code of the captain. It be his ship, his fixings, his party, and his affair. We sail by his rules, as it were.

Many be called and many might show up at that wharf, but only a few gets ter sail with Skipper. It not be his doing that others don’ get ter share in tha passage. Only thing he asks is that we accept tha attire he offers.

Only some, like tha feller in tha Son’s story, be stow-aways, knaves and scoundrels so full of themselves they think Skipper won’ cares how they look.

But Skip does care; he cares mightily. And tha attire he demands is that we be dressed with tha Son. Them that Skipper chooses be those who have come inter a relationship with him through tha Son. Folks of that ilk percolate on Skip’s words day and night, checking ter make sure they be carrying out his orders. And when they find thar spirit off course, they make a correction right quick like. Tha chosen ones be them have thar spiritual conditioned changed from thar old way of walking and thar ears open ter Skip’s Word.

If ya wish ter sail with Skip, put on tha Son. Do that an’ ya kin come ter tha feast. But refuse and keep wearing yer own vomit stained blouse and bloody britches and ya kin expect ter get fed ter tha sharks.