John Oswalt tells the familiar story repeated too often each time flood waters rage. They consume communities. They climb. They climb houses and trees. They sweep cars and people long its path to some unknown destination. There they are. A mother and her two children cling to the tops of a tree. The rescue boat throttles down just enough to fight the current and stay in one place. The firefighter pleads with them, “Jump!” The fate of the tree is uncertain. The swiftness of the water is certain. They want to jump. They should jump, but they are afraid. They are afraid of drowning. They are afraid that if they stay where they are, the tree will not hold. They will not hold on. They are afraid that if they jump, the firefighters will not hold on to them. The will not make the few feet to the boat. “Jump!” They are afraid. But, first the little boy slips his grip and gives a mighty leap into the firefighters arms. The mother screams. The daughter looses a hand. She jumps. Her foot slips. There is a splash. Her arms flail. She swallows a mouthful of the muddy water. Several hands reach her and pull her in. She turns to her mother and cries, “Jump! You can do it. Jump!” The rescuers cry, “We’ll catch you if you fall short.” She debates. She ponders. She has seen her children saved. She is afraid. She hesitates. There is a deafening crack. The branch splits. She falls and is swept downstream. (6) Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near.
Posted on: Mon, 05 Aug 2013 20:00:01 +0000
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