This Week's Sermons

Sermons for the Month
Taking Rescue for Granted
DATE: March 7, 1999
SERVICE: Lent III
TEXT: Romans 5:1-11
"To all of you Saints here this morning, grace and peace to you from God our Father, from His Son, Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit. AMEN
The Empire State Building.
The Chrysler Building.
Two of New York City's skyscrapers, right?
Wrong. Targets.

Not the targets of an international band of terrorists, but of a man with a parachute. Several months ago, a backpack-toting Norwegian, Thor Alex Kappfjell, 32, rode the elevator to the top of the Empire State Building, and in a moment when security guards were not looking, climbed over the protective railing and jumped.

The parachutes he was wearing quickly deployed, and he landed safely on 34th Street below. Gathering up the parachutes quickly, he disappeared into the crowd before irritated police could catch up with him.
A few days later, Kappfjell repeated his daredevil, death-defying performance by jumping off the Chrysler Building. Landing safely, he hailed a cab and again disappeared unmolested. Mayor Rudolph Giuliani huffed that these "flights of fancy" were irresponsible and "jerky," and ordered that Kappfjell be arrested on sight. Authorities believe that the nefarious Norwegian had already returned to his native country.
Not all risk-takers can slake their thirst for death-defying adventures without involving the public. Like some skiers in Aspen. Eager for extreme excitement, the skiers set out. Of course, they immediately got lost, and their plight led to a rescue effort which, the Los Angeles Times recalled, "included 12 snowmobiles, two Sno-Cats, two helicopters, two airplanes and a few dozen rescuers on skis - an exhaustive effort that took no lives but cost about $16,000."
Townspeople in Aspen were, to put it mildly, annoyed at the skiers, not the least for going out in conditions that kept more level heads indoors. Then, when word got around that the rescued party was on the phone to Hollywood, offering the film rights to the story, things got ugly.
But the "Aspen Seven" were just the vanguard of a generation of "extreme sports" fanatics, people out for the most grueling, grinding and gripping thrills known or devised. At least once a month or so it seems, you can find folks participating in a triathlon - six miles of ocean swimming, 110 miles of bicycling and then, all in the same day, a 26.2-mile footrace. When a 74-year-old triathlete was interviewed on television, the host looked at him and said, "No offense, but frankly, you're nuts!"
Other extreme sports episodes can engender more than mild derision: More recently, two young men from the Los Angeles area rode their snowboards out-of-bounds in a nearby resort, triggering a 65-person search that lasted more than 24 hours. Convicted of trespassing, the two were ordered to pony up $7,000 of the $23,000 rescue costs - or face time in jail. The problem of what happens to extreme sports fans when their antics go awry is more than a passing debate. The cost of rescuing the "Aspen Seven" was a good chunk of the local police budget; finding those two snowboarders provoked the district attorney to seek restitution, and a judge to agree. At the heart of the extreme athletes' nonchalance about their endeavors is the notion that whatever happens, "They'll find me somehow." When Steve Fossett went on his latest round-the-world balloon record try, he carried tracking equipment and a rubber raft, sure of rescue wherever he might have to land. And, in a normally deserted part of the Indian Ocean, his radio beacon attracted a yacht that helped him to safety.
Today, hikers in the mountains or cyclists across a desert can pack a cell phone and a global positioning system device to pinpoint where they are. Soon, a satellite-based phone system called Iridium will provide wireless phone access anywhere on earth, from the sands of the Sahara to the rain forests of the Amazon to the wilds of the Arctic. The idea is that wherever you are, they can find you.
It's interesting, isn't it, that the same expectation extreme athletes have - that they can be found by rescuers, no matter what - is at once the hope many sinners have, yet the same one they can easily scorn. However far removed from or close to we might feel we are to God, Jesus and the availability of salvation, as sinners we may have hoped or expected His saving touch in a pinch. Yet, when offered, how often to we either take it for granted or reject it many, many times.
The over-adventurous athlete and the wayward, non-challant sinner both have some traits in common. Both have a large measure of self-confidence: We can go and do this on our own, because we're wearing the right kind of sports shoe or have the right gear, or we just know better than God what's right for ourselves.
There's motivation, too: I'm gonna show THEM what I can do - whether it's the gang back at the sports club or those goody-two-shoes I left behind in Sunday school and church. I can beat them at their own game, and I'm going to do it. After all, as long as I'm nice, we all go to heaven.
Also, there's some blindness to reality. Sure, the snow conditions are tough, but I'm tougher. Sure, sin has its snares and stings and can scar one's soul, but not mine; I'm stronger than anyone else. Perhaps it's not irony which compelled the writer of Proverbs to note that "Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall" (16:18).
In the end, however, neither sportsman nor sinner can expect an unlimited life time offer on rescue. For the skiers who go out-of-bounds, they need to make their presence known at some point, because eventually even the most dogged rescuers will quit. For the sinner, death, sadly, ends his opportunity for salvation. "At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you," the apostle Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 6:2 (citing Isaiah 49.8).
The clear message of Scripture, from Genesis to Revelation, is that while God goes to extremes seeking the lost, our neglect of his gift hardens our hearts and places us at the furthest point from God's attempt to rescue us. It's not that God doesn't want to; it's that we hate to admit we're lost. So we ignore the offer of rescue. Or perhaps we feel that there is always plenty of time before we need to call on God to get us out of the fix we're in. Whatever our excuse, God is still eager to rescue us.
Theologian and teacher, Kenneth E. Bailey, brings this into focus in an observation about the Prodigal Son. He says that the father, who runs down the road to greet his returning son, is doing something rather humiliating for a wealthy Middle Easterner - a rich patriarch just didn't go sprinting down the sidewalk when someone was on the horizon. Yet, for this son, this father did just that, not considering what the neighbors might think. And, for his sons and daughters - his children far removed from his circle - God, in the person of Jesus Christ, dashed into this world, and moved, deliberately, carefully, toward a date with death, to rescue us from the eternal consequences of our sins. The only time God is in a hurry is when we are in need of rescue (see Christianity Today, October 26, 1998).
Unlike that returning prodigal, however, many neglect the sacrifice made by Jesus and the resulting gift of life. Tom Lucas was, once, an example of that. At one time, Tom was an actor and a teacher of theater in New York. He had college degrees, money, a family and worldly success. But he also had a drug and drinking habit, and those, along with his pride, pushed away the message of love God was trying to show him. Those destructive habits seemed to win out for a while, even though they cost Tom almost everything - his job, his family, even his health.
Tom had heard of the redemptive message - first as a boy and then as an adult coming to church - but for all those years, for nearly 50 years, he ignored the loving rescue attempts that reached out to him. With his master's degree from Columbia University and his pride, he didn't need that "God stuff."
By the time Tom stood at the foot of a Salvation Army street meeting, things had changed. Not only was every material thing gone, so was his spirit. As Tom tells it, "I was without a tooth in my head, and without a prayer in my heart."
Tom responded to the message a small band of Christ's followers presented that day. He got into a rehabilitation program; he got a set of dentures; he gained some self-respect, and most of all, Tom "got saved." Roundly, solidly, totally saved. Tom Lucas was rescued, if you will, from the misadventures in the most extreme sport of all - trying to live life outside the boundaries of God's love. Today, he leads a happy, productive life as a counselor, helping others back into society, with a stop at the foot of the Cross. There are no greasepaint, no spotlights and little applause, but it's the greatest role Tom has ever had.
Salvation came "at just the right time" for Tom Lucas (Romans 5:6 NIV).
Consider the progression: "At just the right time," meaning that at both the right point in human history and the right time in God's provision, and at the right time for us to take advantage of it - at just that moment, things happened.
Things happened "while we were still weak." Paul is speaking to people who were empowered by their new birth in Jesus Christ. But before that time, they were lacking the power of God to live a good life. "I can do all things," Paul says elsewhere, "through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13), but he doesn't say he could have done all things before Christ strengthened him!
And who are these powerless people, the "ungodly," for whom Christ died? They're you. They're me.
Tom Lucas.
The skiers, snowboarders and showboaters of life.
The parachuters and prodigals.
The widow, the baker and the candlestick maker.
The churchgoer and the person who plays nice.
The downtrodden and the oppressed.
The overcomers and the underachievers.
Perhaps you may be one of those people. Well, I'm here to tell you God is on a rescue search. He's searching for every soul that's lost, for every heart that's heavy, for every spirit that's been crushed. He wants to find you and comfort you and strengthen you and save you - but you must be willing to step out and receive what he has to offer, to take up your own cross and be his disciple.
This salvation is no mirage. It's real and it's lasting and it's wonderful. Just don't take His rescue for granted.
AMEN