The Offer of Life

I guess all of you, like all of us, shed a tear or two over the rescue of Todd Russell and Brant Webb.

One thing that stood out for me in that story was the patience of the rescue effort. Your heart says it will be quick and you expect it to be fast and furious. But no. One of those explosive guys was blowing something only 7cm in diameter and about 1.5cm deep each time!

All of that reminds me of the Lord’s patience with us. I’ll include here a story about “Inconsolable Jack” which I’ve got the family’s permission to share. Trust you will enjoy and be challenged by it.

Old Jack was a bit different. Macho bloke. Man’s man. Tough. Feisty. Incorrigible. Bull at a gate, knew his own mind, and, as a friend of mine would say, had a mouth to go with it. True friend to his friends, but look out if you crossed him. A real character if ever there was one. The first time I met him was at the bedside of his beloved Lily who was dying of cancer. They’d been married 62 years. When she finally lost her battle for life he was devastated because he’d worshipped the ground she walked on. Truth be told, he idolised her, so her death left a gaping hole.

Now Lily was a heart-and-soul believer in Jesus. No doubt in her mind. She trusted him as Saviour and Lord. But Jack was something else. He’d drive her to church in their younger days but he’d sit in the car and read the newspaper. Jack classified himself as “not religious”. After Lily was called home he was, to all intents and purposes, inconsolable. I promised his sons and their families that I’d keep in touch with him which I was able to do every month or so. Our conversations certainly weren’t religious. He’d hardly allow it. But he poured out his heart. Told me that at his lowest time he didn’t want to live, and that he had gone looking for a revolver he’d scored during the War. Was thwarted when he remembered he’d turfed the weapon over the cliffs somewhere between Bondi and Vaucluse.

Ever so slowly we got to talking about Lily’s faith and what it meant for her. One day I slipped in the thought that he could join her but he ruled that out quick smart. Not because he didn’t want to. More because he was convinced he’d disqualified himself over the years. My line was to talk to him about that “bloody prodigal son” who stuffed up his life and who was then amazed by the welcome when he finally did come home. That touched something in him and I saw hope get born in his crusty old eyes.

This continued for a few months – little two or three minute segments in a one hour conversation. His own health was declining although he stubbornly resisted most efforts to help him physically. One day I revisited the prodigal son story and told him that God in heaven would welcome him home because Jesus had straightened everything out. He became silent. Then he looked me in the eye and said, “If that’s what the Good Book says it must be true!” I went home singing. Saw him a couple more times and prayed with him a few hours before he died. Dying well.

So finally a question. Why would you not start that new life now? Is there any reason, apart from self-defence mechanisms or sheer selfishness, why you would not accept the offer of life? Could you imagine in your wildest dreams that Todd Russell and Brant Webb would say Not now! Come back later!

Worth thinking about.

- Pastor Fred