February 2009

Dear Family of Faith,
She was gone. With one brief gasp she left behind the precious gift of life and ended twenty years of friendship. We had traveled together far and wide in those two decades—to walk the land of Jesus’ birth, to gaze at Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel and inspect Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest. We had cruised the Greek isles and the Yangze, stood on the Acropolis and the Great Wall of China. Now this! My 80-year-old friend was gone. Betty was floating dead in the water off the beautiful St. Thomas beach—the victim of a snorkeling adventure gone terribly wrong. Face down with lungs filled with salty sea water, snorkel submerged and drifting to the whims of the current, she was helpless—and I, hundreds of yards away, blissfully ignorant of the tragedy, was marveling at underwater coral shapes and stunning tropical fish.
Someone noticed—not a non-existent call for help or a thrashing struggle—but the unusual calm of one of the snorkelers in the tide. He noticed that, unlike all the rest of the vacationers from the catamarans, this woman’s snorkel pipe was nowhere to be seen. He rushed to her side, saw the creeping blue of death upon her skin, and hauled her to the beach, calling for help on the way. A Hospice nurse and firefighting EMT happened to be onboard the boat that day and made a beeline for the beach. As spectators and a bewildered husband gathered around, they put to practice their best efforts. They pushed the water from her lungs, broke her ribs with heart-starting pressure, and blew the breath of life into cool lips. In the end the efforts of the frantic good Samaritans and the prayers of dozens of intercessors from a distance were heard. Blue turned back to pink; silent lungs coughed and sputtered; death gave way to life. Tuesday, January 13, 2009, was marked forever as the day of Betty Sole’s death and resurrection.
After spending several days in the island hospital, Betty and her husband Al are back home in Ohio again, enjoying with new appreciation the gift of life that days ago was gone. Easter came early for them this year—and for me, as well.
Reflecting on this near tragedy, I find two important lessons for our lives. The first has to do with paying attention. If the man who pulled Betty to the beach had not noticed her trouble, she would have been robbed of life before her time. I wonder how many times we have failed to notice those near us who are drowning in the waves—not just tidal waves, but waves of sorrow and despair, waves of loneliness and pain, waves of fear and hopelessness. It doesn’t take long to succumb to the onslaughts of life—to fall from happy days to pitch black nights where drugs and booze and even ropes and bullets tempt the unthinkable. We, like that anonymous Good Samaritan who saved the sloshing snorkeler, ought to live with eyes wide open to the needs of those around us. We need to walk this world with the peripheral vision of Jesus.
A second lesson branded into my consciousness anew is the importance of people in our lives. When Betty was floating lifeless in the sea, her material wealth was useless. Fabulous houses and fancy cars, millions of dollars, closets full of designer clothes, and chests of gold and diamonds—all these were ultimately worthless in the moment of greatest need. Neither she, nor we, will ever be saved by what we have. We are only saved by who we know—by the people of our lives who come to aid us in trying times and ultimately by the Savior who sacrificed all to bring us back to life.
As we make our way through 2009, let us live with wisdom and new understanding. Let us notice one another’s needs along the way and foster friendship as the greatest security in our lives. After all, isn’t this what Jesus taught us? Isn’t this Jesus’ way?
With affection,
Pastor Carlan