When the church stops rescuing the lost, it loses its reason to exist. God calls us from comfort back to mission.
Years ago, a small village sat along a rocky coastline where shipwrecks often happened. Volunteers built a tiny rescue hut and kept watch, rowing out whenever a distress call came. Lives were saved, and the station became famous.
As membership grew, they built a larger building—comfortable, well-furnished, warm. After a while, fewer volunteers were trained, and rescues dwindled. When a storm wrecked another ship, survivors were brought in, wet and muddy, and the members didn’t like the mess. They decided to move the rescue operation farther down the coast.
Over time, the original station became just a club. Today tourists still visit, but shipwrecks still happen—and most of the drowning people never make it to shore.
That’s what happens when churches forget their mission. We trade rescue boats for comfort chairs.