Good Friday "savior" Series

ii. Story 4: A drowning man in China: The story is told by Watchman Nee of his stay in China with twenty other Christians. The bathing accommodations were inadequate in the home where they were lodging, so they went for a daily dip in the river. On one occasion, one of the men got a cramp in his leg and began sinking fast. Mr. Nee motioned to one of the other men, who was an excellent swimmer, about the drowning man. To his astonishment, however, the man did not move. He just stood there and watched the drowning man. Mr. Nee was agitated, but the swimmer was calm and collected. Meanwhile, the voice of the drowning man grew fainter and more desperate. Mr. Nee hated the swimmer who just stood and watched on the shore when he could have jumped into the river and rescued the drowning man. As the drowning man went under for what looked like the last time, the swimmer was there in a moment, and both were soon safely on shore. After the rescue, Mr. Nee chewed out the swimmer, accusing him of loving his life too much and being selfish. The response of the swimmer revealed, however, he knew what he was doing. He told Watchman that if he had gone too soon, the drowning man would have put a death grip on him and they would have both drowned in the river, and he was right. He told Mr. Nee that a drowning man cannot be saved until he is utterly exhausted and ceases to make the slightest effort to save himself.

1. Application: Such is the case with our salvation. When we stop trying to save ourselves, then the Lord can step in and save us when we yield to Him. When you see the final struggle that is a sign that you’re now sensitive to sin and that is where God can help save you.

a. These stories are taken and adapted from a sermon by Daniel Darling on sermoncentral.com.

d. In May Lucado’s book, “No Wonder They Call Him the Savior”

i. Story from Book: Ian

1. “I just want to know what counts.” Deep Irish brogue. Dark, deep eyes. The statement was sincere. “Don’t talk to me of religion, I’ve been down that road. And please, stay off theology. I have a degree in that. Get to the heart of it, okay? I want to know what counts.” His name was Ian. He was a student at a Canadian university where I was visiting. Through a series of events he found out I was a Christian and I found out he wanted to be but was disenchanted. “I grew up in the church,” he explained. “I wanted to go into the ministry. I took all the courses, the theology, the languages, the exegesis. But I quit. Something just didn’t click.” “It’s in there somewhere,” he spoke with earnestness. “At least I think it is.” I looked up from my coffee as he began to stir his. Then he summarized his frustration with one question. “What really matters? What counts? Tell me. Skip the periphery. Go to the essence. Tell me the part that matters.” The part that matters. I looked at Ian for a long time. The question hung in the air. What should I have said? What could I have said? I could have told him about church. I could’ve given him a doctrinal answer or read him something classic like the Twenty-third Psalm, “The LORD is my shepherd . . . ” But that all seemed too small. Maybe some thoughts on sexuality or prayer or the Golden Rule. No, Ian wanted the treasure—he wanted the meat. Stop and empathize for a second. Can you hear his question? Can you taste his frustration? “Don’t give me religion,” he was saying. “Give me what matters.” What does matter? In your Bible of over a thousand pages, what matters? Among all the do’s and don’ts and should’s and shouldn’ts, what is essential? What is indispensable? indispensable? The Old Testament? The New? Grace? Baptism? What would you have said to Ian? Would you have spoken on the evil of the world or maybe the eminence of heaven? Would you have quoted John 3:16 or Acts 2:38 or maybe read 1 Corinthians 13? What really matters? You’ve probably wrestled with this question. Maybe you’ve gone through the acts of religion and faith and yet found yourself more often than not at a dry well. Prayers seem empty. Goals seem unthinkable. Christianity becomes a warped record full of highs and lows and off-key notes. Is this all there is? Sunday attendance. Pretty songs. Faithful tithings. Golden crosses. Three- piece suits. Big choirs. Leather Bibles. It is nice and all, but . . . where is the heart of it? I stirred my coffee. Ian stirred his. I had no answer. All my verses so obediently memorized seemed inappropriate. All my canned responses seemed timid. Yet now, years later, I know what I would share with him. Think about these words from Paul in 1 Corinthians, chapter 15. For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures. “First importance” he says. Read on: That he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. 1 There it is. Almost too simple. Jesus was killed, buried, and resurrected. Surprised? The part that matters is the cross. No more and no less. The cross. It rests on the timeline of history like a compelling diamond. Its tragedy summons all sufferers. Its absurdity attracts all cynics. Its hope lures all searchers. And according to Paul, the cross is what counts. My, what a piece of wood! History has idolized it and despised it, gold-plated it and burned it, worn and trashed it. History has done everything to it but ignore it. That’s the one option that the cross does not offer. No one can ignore it! You can’t ignore a piece of lumber that suspends the greatest claim in history. A crucified carpenter claiming that he is God on earth? Divine? Eternal? The death-slayer? No wonder Paul called it “the core of the gospel.” Its bottom line is sobering: if the account is true, it is history’s hinge. Period. If not, it is history’s hoax. That’s why the cross is what matters.”