The Lost Raft

Well, I am back from vacation. My family goes to a place called Sunset Beach. It is the last beach in North Carolina. I think we have gone to the same place 14 out of the last 16 years. It is quiet and quaint and just about perfect. We are not active vacationers. Some people vacation with sneakers, black socks, and cameras around their necks. They run from place to place taking in all the sights and come back with scads of pictures of the places they've been and the things they've seen. We, on the other hand, are sedentary. We rub sunscreen on, set up an umbrella, and watch the ocean until it is time to eat to gain some energy so we can go back out and watch the ocean some more. It is marvelous. We were watching one day and saw a raft floating out to sea. A little girl had fallen off and the unmanned raft was being carried out with the tide. It was really colorful and cute. It was shaped like a flip flop. My son Jeremy is a tri-athlete. I pointed at the raft and said,"Jeremy, fetch!!" Jeremy is a wonderful athlete but a little too responsive to commands like "fetch". He got up, walked out into the water and started to swim for the raft. The wind picked up and the abandoned raft headed out to sea with some purpose. Jeremy continued to swim. Within 20 minutes he was so far out everyone on shore was watching. Once Jeremy starts something he is pretty stubborn. I am pretty sure he gets that from his mom or at least her side. He ended up swimming about a mile and a half straight out into the ocean. He wrapped the raft under his arm and made his way back to shore. The whole ordeal took the better part of an hour. The owner of the raft insisted on giving the raft to Jeremy. He said he deserved to have the raft because of the price he paid in saving it. That got me thinking about Jesus. It was interesting to watch my son risk so much and work so hard to save a raft. God had his son give so much more and go so much farther to save you and me from floating further and further away from him. I am so glad he did.