A Reluctant Rescue

I was a little annoyed. I didn’t want to do anything about it. After all, it wasn’t my problem. And after all, maybe there wasn’t even a problem.

Don’t be silly. It’s none of your business.

I sighed and turned around. I knew that I had to say something.

It was a beautiful day, and Caleb and I were enjoying a walk down the river together. The sun was shining, flowers of all shapes and colors were nodding in the breeze, and the river was rambling and rushing beside us – churning around boulders, surging through narrow places, sending spray into the air.

And right in the narrowest part of the river, where the water raced through two enormous boulders, and where a bridge extended across the river, there were two young girls with inner tubes entering the water. The girls were laughing and carefree. Their shiny new tubes were decorated with tropical leaves and flowers. I heard them saying something about “going down.”

I looked around and noticed an older couple approaching the bridge. They were smiling and pointing at the girls.

Oh – those are probably their grandparents, I thought.

But the “grandparents” seemed pleased that these girls were about to put themselves in grave danger.

Why are they all so happy about all this? Don’t they know?

I walked onto the bridge. The “grandfather” was leaning on the railing, looking happily down into the roiling water.

“Do you know that there is a waterfall down there?” I had to shout to him over the noise of the rapids as I pointed downstream.

“I do, but do they?” he asked as he pointed down at the girls.

For a split second, I looked at him incredulously. I just couldn’t get my mind around the fact that this couple, who I had by now concluded were not the girls’ grandparents, could stand there and gleefully watch these young teens kill themselves.

For kill themselves they most certainly would. Just a short distance downstream was a large waterfall. If the girls went over those falls, they would be lucky to be found in one piece.

I shouted down to the girls. “Do you know there is a waterfall down there?”

Again, I pointed downstream.

One of the girls squinted up at me. Then with a look of defiance she turned up her nose and looked the other way and mumbled, “Yes.”

“Do you have a plan for getting out?” I asked.

I don’t remember if she answered. I just remember that she was obviously annoyed. That she was rude. That she just stayed right there with her colorful float, thinking that this crazy woman was ruining her fun. I remember that I felt stupid as I walked away.

But when Caleb and I had gone down the path a short distance, I turned around and looked toward the bridge. I noticed that both girls were climbing up the bank away from the water. I sighed with relief. It didn’t matter so much that the girls were rude to me. What mattered was that they ultimately heeded my warning and were out of danger.

This experience encouraged me. Because I realized that even though there are times when I give out a tract or try to talk about Jesus, and people are nasty and make me feel stupid, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t listening. It doesn’t mean that they won’t eventually accept the rescue plan that God has provided for them through His Son.

I couldn’t see the fear in those girls’ hearts. The fear that drove them to get away from that dangerous river. I can’t see the hearts of anyone I talk to about the Gospel. But I know I must be faithful to warn people and pray that they will be saved from God’s wrath – from sin and Hell – even if it doesn’t seem like they are listening.

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