Imagine yourself in a rubber inflatable life raft. Tragedy has struck, and you are among a small group of survivors in a handful of these precarious craft bobbing in the middle of a vast ocean. Resources are limited.
Now imagine that a huge luxury cruise liner pulls up beside you. The Captain announces over the bullhorn that He is offering you free passage to a paradise destination, and all you must do is climb the ladder they are lowering to you.
However, some of the other survivors don't seem to understand the choice before them: they are consumed with making what they believe are life-and-death choices, such as which life rafts have fewer holes in them, which holes should be patched using the limited repair kits, and how to make extra fishing line. When asked about the cruise liner, several people stated they couldn't understand what the Captain had said over the bullhorn. One person stated that it was unreasonable to ask a survivor to climb such a distance. Another said that since only one person could ascend up the ladder at a time, that the system was prejudiced and unjust.
Another survivor mocked the ship, saying that he couldn't see for certain that the people so far up were any better off. Another cursed the liner for blocking the sun and making such a huge wake; this, he said, made it harder for the survivors on the water's surface to make their own decisions.
You decide to climb the ladder to the ship's deck above. It's a tiring journey, and at first, it appears dangerous. As you climb, however, you realize that the ladder is also being pulled up. The people above are helping you climb.
It's still fatiguing, though, both physically and emotionally. As you pass many portholes on your way up, you see beautiful people enjoying sumptuous meals and several types of engaging entertainment. You wonder how you will fit in and whether you even want to associate with them, You are, at once, jealous of their comfort, and angry that some of them don't see you. Some do see you and shout encouragement. This keeps up your motivation, and you start to approach the top.
This is the most difficult part of the climb. The ladder doesn't appear to be moving anymore, you have blisters on your hands and your bare feet are cut up. It would be easy to slip back down to the world you know rather than go on...so you have to make a choice. Do you give up the life raft entirely? Once you go over that railing, there's no turning back. What do you do?
When we decide to follow Jesus Christ, we embark on a road that is both hard and easy. As the Lord said, "For my yoke is easy, and my burden in light." He tells us strait off the bat that there is a burden associated with following Him, but it is a light burden. And why is it light? Because it is only temporary. Eventually we arrive at the deck above, and our souls are saved. Eventually (though it seems like a long time) the exertion is done, our trial is over, and we are headed to paradise.
So let's stay on that strait and narrow road, even if some people on it don't quite meet our expectations. Let's climb the ladder to be rescued, and in the end when we tumble over the railing, we'll find peace and healing beyond compare. Let those who want to remain on the water--our home is far above.
I have come to discover the older you get the harder it is to climb by yourself. More assistance is needed, more faith and more patience with ones self and with others.
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