Life before cell phones is almost unimaginable to youngsters today. Poor things – think of the adventures they will miss because they may go their whole lives without ever being stranded in a broken-down car on the side of the road, totally dependent upon passersby to stop and help.
Today, punching a few buttons summons the cavalry, but alas, it wasn’t always so simple.
I got my first taste of Southern hospitality several decades ago when my family’s Buick “whale” floundered in Birmingham, Ala. We sat on the side of the road in heavy traffic — a frustrated, helpless family of Yankees trying to get to Panama City Beach, Fla. – until a gracious, older couple stopped to see if we needed some assistance.
We did, so the husband took my dad to find a mechanic while his wife entertained us in a nearby Waffle House with her wondrous, syruppy drawl.
Those good citizens should have been wearing bright and shiny armor, for indeed, they were our rescuing heroes.
Years later (but still in the pre-cell era), I was travelling with a friend from Charleston back to Greenwood on a sweltering May evening when my friend’s car gasped and died somewhere between Orangeburg and Columbia. With only miles of scrubby pine trees in sight, we had no idea how far we were from an exit and no desire to walk down the darkening interstate to find out.
Trucks and cars whizzed by us for more than six hours. Possessing a healthy fear of homicidal maniacs, we sat in the hot car and clutched the only two weapons we had – our ineffectual nail clippers and our effectual prayers.
We fervently and repeatedly asked God to send us a benevolent rescuer. Eventually, He did.
Our knight drove up in a tow truck with his very pregnant wife sitting by his side. They were returning to Orangeburg from Columbia and had noticed our obvious predicament. We were beyond tired of sitting on that interstate and they seemed nice, normal, and non-homicidal, so we hopped in.
This sweet couple drove us to a hotel, took my friend’s car to a mechanic in the middle of the night, picked us up the next morning and took us to retrieve the repaired car. And, wonder of wonders, they charged us very little for all their trouble.
I’ve never felt so thoroughly rescued in my life…well, except for one other time.
That was when I was 19 years old and might well have been on my way to breaking down by the side of a busy road–the road of life. Fueled by conflicting obsessions to try to excel in everything I was doing and still party hearty, my engine was sputtering. Going for the gusto was draining my tank in a hurry.
I needed rescuing, and Jesus came, giving me new purpose, power …and permission to get off the hamster wheel. Sometimes I still need rescuing—from fear, discouragement, difficulties—and Jesus comes. Not always as quickly as I’d like, but always in time.
It’s easy to cover Christmas with tinsel and forget that it was a bold and gritty rescue mission. Jesus came to this world to rescue us from spiritual darkness and bring us into His kingdom of light. The question at the heart of this season is this: Will we let Him?
“…peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for our sins so that He might rescue us from this present evil age…” (Galatians 1:3-4)