The word is "Savior."

I don't know how he got there, he might not have known either, but there he was. Maybe he meant to walk out on the precipice of Niagara Falls in order to be swept over and commit suicide. Maybe he thought he could brave the swift, but shallow water and make it to the other side. Maybe he was running from something...or to something. Regardless of how it happened, it happened. He was alone, standing on the edge of Niagara Falls. One foot, braced against a rock, was all that kept him from being swept over the 171 ft. water fall to certain death. He was too far out to go back. He was too close to the edge to turn around.

Rescuers came, but couldn't help. People trained in this sort of thing. They through lifelines to him that didn't quite reach far enough. They told him to "hang on" but all knew it was just a matter of time. They attached ropes to themselves and tried to wade out to where he was, but to no avail. Emergency responders said they got close enough to hear his plea for help and see the fear in his eyes, but that was all. They couldn't help. Then, his knees buckled...it was almost over. A person can only fight against a river for so long before strength gives way to current. Suddenly, the waters stirred. Into the picture came rescue from above. A helicopter hovered over the helpless man, and a rope with a life preserver was tossed close enough for him to embrace. In a matter of seconds it was over. He was safe. Rescued from above. The help from above went where the earthbound rescuers couldn't, reached where they couldn't, and did what they could not do.

I watched the video and thought about Jesus and me. How, one day, I also teetered on the brink, my past a raging current that pushed me toward despair and my future a hopeless fall into darkness. I wasn't even sure how I got there, but I was there.

I remember how my knees buckled and I wanted to give up. I remember people trying to help me, people trained in this sort of thing. I remember rescuers reaching out to me, but unable to get to where I was.

And then help came...from above.

He came where others could not come. He reached where others could not reach. He did for me what others could not do. He forgave the sin, arrogance and foolishness that led me into despair, and lifted me out of it. I've never been the same.

This Christmas I'm rejoicing at one word that was part of the good news given to the shepherds on that hillside 2,000 years ago; "Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord." The word is "Savior."

A "Savior," that's what I needed, what I need, and who I have discovered Jesus to be. No earthbound friend, family member, or trained rescuer could have done for me what Jesus did. There is no substitute for "Savior." True, he has used all of the above to help me on the journey, but only Jesus could have reached me where I was.

Indeed... "when nothing else could help, love lifted me."

Merry Christmas!

You can find the video if you Google "Amazing Rescue at Niagara Falls."

When it Hurts

Leadership is often painful. If the team loses, the coach gets fired. If the play breaks down, the quarterback gets sacked. If the stock drops, the president of the company is called into the boardroom. Psychologists tell us that we can endure almost anything if we have some understanding of a purpose that might be behind it. I recently ran across this devotional thought from Streams in the Desert II. (December 13)

"Angels are not fitted for sympathy, for they know nothing about human life. In a picture by Domenichino, there is an angel standing by the empty cross, touching with his finger one of the sharp points in the thorn-crown which the Saviour had worn. On his face there is the strangest bewilderment. he is trying to make out the mystery of sorrow. He knows nothing of suffering, for he has never suffered. There is nothing in the angel nature or in the angel life to interpret struggle or pain. the same is measurably true of untried human life. If we would be sons of consolation, our natures must be enriched by experience. We are not naturally gentle to all men. There is a harshness in us that needs to be mellowed. We are apt to be heedless of the feelings of others, to forget how many hearts are sore, and carry heavy burdens. We are not gentle toward sorrow, because our own hearts never have been plowed. The best universities cannot teach us the divine art of sympathy. We must walk in the deep valleys ourselves, and then we can be guides to other souls. We must feel the strain, and carry the burden, and endure the struggle ourselves, and then we can be touched, and can give help to others in life's sore stress and poignant need."

I've been thinking about all of the "guides" I've been blessed with over the years and how many valleys they must have walked through, just so they could lead me through them later.

I am grateful.