The Life-Saving Station – Goodies & Baddies or Sheep without a Shepherd
Many years ago, so the story goes, there was a small life-saving station on a dangerous stretch of coastline. The building was little more than a hut. The equipment was basic. The volunteers were ordinary people. But they were devoted to one thing: rescuing those whose boats had been wrecked on the rocks offshore. Whenever a distress call came, they would launch their boats and head out into the storm. Many lives were saved.
As time passed, the station became well known. People admired the work that was being done. Donations increased. The hut became a larger building. Comfortable furniture was added. The facilities improved. Before long, members began using the station as a social gathering place. It became a pleasant club.
Meanwhile, shipwrecks still occurred. Occasionally survivors were brought in, cold, wet, frightened, and exhausted. But some members felt uncomfortable. These rescued people made the place untidy. They got in the way.
Eventually a debate arose. Some wanted the station to continue its life-saving mission. Others argued that rescue work was messy and distracting from the real purpose of the organisation.
A separate life-saving station was established down the coast. But over time the same thing happened. And so another was established, and then another.
The story concludes by observing that if you visit that coastline today, you will find many exclusive clubs, but very few life-saving stations.
It is a powerful parable because it asks a searching question of every church: Are we a club, or are we a life-saving station?
That question brings us directly to today's Gospel reading. Matthew tells us that Jesus travelled through the towns and villages, teaching, proclaiming the good news of the Kingdom, and healing. Jesus is involved in the work of life-saving — rescuing people from the holes they find themselves in, giving them new purpose and meaning. Then something significant happens. The mission of Jesus becomes the mission of the disciples.
This is one of the great turning points in Matthew's Gospel. Up to now the disciples have been watching, listening, learning and following. Now Jesus invites them to become participants. The work that he has been doing becomes their work. His mission becomes their mission.
But before he sends them out, Matthew tells us something important.
"When he saw the crowds, Jesus had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd."
Everything that follows grows out of that compassion. Jesus sees people. He sees their confusion. He sees their burdens. He sees their loneliness. He sees their longing. And he is moved with compassion for them.
The phrase "sheep without a shepherd" echoes the Hebrew Scriptures, where the people suffer because their leaders have failed to care for them properly. Matthew wants us to understand that Jesus looks upon the people and sees lives that are spiritually adrift. The structures are there. The institutions are there. The traditions are there. But something vital is missing. Life-giving leadership. Compassionate guidance. A vision capable of nourishing the human spirit.
The people are hungry, and Jesus sees it and is moved with compassion from the depth of his being.
Now, a great deal of Christianity has fallen into the habit of dividing the world into the Good Guys and the Bad Guys. Religion then becomes a matter of social respectability. We are the good people. We are the faithful people. We are the ones who have things sorted out.
Yet according to St Paul, that is not how God sees the world.
In last week's Gospel reading Jesus said, "I came not for the righteous but for sinners." And in today's Epistle reading Paul writes: "While we were yet sinners Christ died for us."
Notice what Paul does not say. He does not say Christ died for the good guys. He does not say Christ died for the respectable, the religious, or the morally successful. He says Christ died for sinners. Christ died for those who fall short. Christ died for those who fail. Christ died for those whom others may dismiss as beyond redemption.
Indeed, if we follow Paul's argument in Romans, we discover something deeply unsettling and deeply liberating. According to Paul, here are ultimately no good guys. There are simply various kinds of sinners whom God loves and for whom Christ died.
Some sin is obvious. Some is hidden. Some forms of brokenness are condemned by society. Others are often admired. Pride can wear a very respectable face. Self-righteousness can sit comfortably in a church pew. Greed can hide behind success. Indifference can masquerade as virtue.
According to Paul, all of us fall short of the Divine Love in one way or another – that Love we see shining from the face and life of Jesus. The question therefore is not: "Am I one of the good guys?"
The real question is: "What is my own besetting sin? Where do I still fall short of Love?"
And alongside that comes another question: "Can I see others, even in their weakness and failure, as people loved by God? Can I see them – using St Paul’s language - as someone for whom Christ died?"
Perhaps that is what Jesus sees when he looks upon the crowds with compassion. He does not see good people and bad people. He sees human beings. Wounded people. Lost people. Searching people. Sheep without a shepherd. Various kinds of sinners – some obvious, others respectable and socially acceptable.
And if a church is to be a true life-saving station, it must learn to see people in the same way.
For the moment we begin thinking of ourselves as the good guys, we cease to be rescuers and become a club. But when we recognise that we too live by and infinite grace, our hearts become open to others. We become less judgemental and more compassionate. Less interested in defending boundaries and more interested in helping people find healing, hope and belonging.
And that brings us back to the question: What kind of life-saving station are we called to be?
As Non-Subscribing Presbyterians, we stand within a tradition that has long valued freedom of conscience, openness of mind and generosity of spirit. We trust people to think, to question, to seek and to grow. We recognise that faith is a journey and that no creed or doctrine can ever fully contain the mystery of God. That may be one of the most important gifts we have to offer in our time.
For there are many lost sheep in Banbridge and Dromore. Some have been wounded by religion. Some carry questions they have never felt free to ask. Some sense there is a spiritual dimension to life but cannot connect with the forms in which faith has often been presented. Some struggle with loneliness, grief, anxiety, or simply a feeling that something important is missing.
Perhaps our calling is to create a place where questions are welcomed rather than feared. A place where people can seek truth without coercion. A place where compassion matters more than conformity. A place where people can be their real selves and need not pretend to be something they are not. A place where they can discover friendship, meaning, purpose, belonging and hope. A place where they can encounter something of the welcoming spirit of Christ.
Because the deepest need in our society may not be for more certainty. It may be for more wisdom.
Certainty insists that the answers are already known and must never be questioned. Wisdom on the other hand invites humility. Wisdom keeps learning. Wisdom remains open to growth, to fresh insight, and to the possibility that the mystery of God is always greater than our understanding.
Those are gifts that Non-Subscribing Presbyterians can offer.
And so we are left with a question: Will we simply become a club? Or do we have a deeper purpose and mission for the people in this area?
Will we be a place of judgement or a place of grace? A place of exclusion or a place of welcome? A place where people are expected to have everything sorted out, or a place where ordinary human beings can come with their questions, their struggles and their hopes, and discover that they are loved by God?
For that is how Jesus saw the crowds: not as good people or bad people, but as sheep without a shepherd. And it is still through such compassion that Christ continues his work in the world today.
Amen.
Many years ago, so the story goes, there was a small life-saving station on a dangerous stretch of coastline. The building was little more than a hut. The equipment was basic. The volunteers were ordinary people. But they were devoted to one thing: rescuing those whose boats had been wrecked on the rocks offshore. Whenever a distress call came, they would launch their boats and head out into the storm. Many lives were saved.
As time passed, the station became well known. People admired the work that was being done. Donations increased. The hut became a larger building. Comfortable furniture was added. The facilities improved. Before long, members began using the station as a social gathering place. It became a pleasant club.
Meanwhile, shipwrecks still occurred. Occasionally survivors were brought in, cold, wet, frightened, and exhausted. But some members felt uncomfortable. These rescued people made the place untidy. They got in the way.
Eventually a debate arose. Some wanted the station to continue its life-saving mission. Others argued that rescue work was messy and distracting from the real purpose of the organisation.
A separate life-saving station was established down the coast. But over time the same thing happened. And so another was established, and then another.
The story concludes by observing that if you visit that coastline today, you will find many exclusive clubs, but very few life-saving stations.
It is a powerful parable because it asks a searching question of every church: Are we a club, or are we a life-saving station?
That question brings us directly to today's Gospel reading. Matthew tells us that Jesus travelled through the towns and villages, teaching, proclaiming the good news of the Kingdom, and healing. Jesus is involved in the work of life-saving — rescuing people from the holes they find themselves in, giving them new purpose and meaning. Then something significant happens. The mission of Jesus becomes the mission of the disciples.
This is one of the great turning points in Matthew's Gospel. Up to now the disciples have been watching, listening, learning and following. Now Jesus invites them to become participants. The work that he has been doing becomes their work. His mission becomes their mission.
But before he sends them out, Matthew tells us something important.
"When he saw the crowds, Jesus had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd."
Everything that follows grows out of that compassion. Jesus sees people. He sees their confusion. He sees their burdens. He sees their loneliness. He sees their longing. And he is moved with compassion for them.
The phrase "sheep without a shepherd" echoes the Hebrew Scriptures, where the people suffer because their leaders have failed to care for them properly. Matthew wants us to understand that Jesus looks upon the people and sees lives that are spiritually adrift. The structures are there. The institutions are there. The traditions are there. But something vital is missing. Life-giving leadership. Compassionate guidance. A vision capable of nourishing the human spirit.
The people are hungry, and Jesus sees it and is moved with compassion from the depth of his being.
Now, a great deal of Christianity has fallen into the habit of dividing the world into the Good Guys and the Bad Guys. Religion then becomes a matter of social respectability. We are the good people. We are the faithful people. We are the ones who have things sorted out.
Yet according to St Paul, that is not how God sees the world.
In last week's Gospel reading Jesus said, "I came not for the righteous but for sinners." And in today's Epistle reading Paul writes: "While we were yet sinners Christ died for us."
Notice what Paul does not say. He does not say Christ died for the good guys. He does not say Christ died for the respectable, the religious, or the morally successful. He says Christ died for sinners. Christ died for those who fall short. Christ died for those who fail. Christ died for those whom others may dismiss as beyond redemption.
Indeed, if we follow Paul's argument in Romans, we discover something deeply unsettling and deeply liberating. According to Paul, here are ultimately no good guys. There are simply various kinds of sinners whom God loves and for whom Christ died.
Some sin is obvious. Some is hidden. Some forms of brokenness are condemned by society. Others are often admired. Pride can wear a very respectable face. Self-righteousness can sit comfortably in a church pew. Greed can hide behind success. Indifference can masquerade as virtue.
According to Paul, all of us fall short of the Divine Love in one way or another – that Love we see shining from the face and life of Jesus. The question therefore is not: "Am I one of the good guys?"
The real question is: "What is my own besetting sin? Where do I still fall short of Love?"
And alongside that comes another question: "Can I see others, even in their weakness and failure, as people loved by God? Can I see them – using St Paul’s language - as someone for whom Christ died?"
Perhaps that is what Jesus sees when he looks upon the crowds with compassion. He does not see good people and bad people. He sees human beings. Wounded people. Lost people. Searching people. Sheep without a shepherd. Various kinds of sinners – some obvious, others respectable and socially acceptable.
And if a church is to be a true life-saving station, it must learn to see people in the same way.
For the moment we begin thinking of ourselves as the good guys, we cease to be rescuers and become a club. But when we recognise that we too live by and infinite grace, our hearts become open to others. We become less judgemental and more compassionate. Less interested in defending boundaries and more interested in helping people find healing, hope and belonging.
And that brings us back to the question: What kind of life-saving station are we called to be?
As Non-Subscribing Presbyterians, we stand within a tradition that has long valued freedom of conscience, openness of mind and generosity of spirit. We trust people to think, to question, to seek and to grow. We recognise that faith is a journey and that no creed or doctrine can ever fully contain the mystery of God. That may be one of the most important gifts we have to offer in our time.
For there are many lost sheep in Banbridge and Dromore. Some have been wounded by religion. Some carry questions they have never felt free to ask. Some sense there is a spiritual dimension to life but cannot connect with the forms in which faith has often been presented. Some struggle with loneliness, grief, anxiety, or simply a feeling that something important is missing.
Perhaps our calling is to create a place where questions are welcomed rather than feared. A place where people can seek truth without coercion. A place where compassion matters more than conformity. A place where people can be their real selves and need not pretend to be something they are not. A place where they can discover friendship, meaning, purpose, belonging and hope. A place where they can encounter something of the welcoming spirit of Christ.
Because the deepest need in our society may not be for more certainty. It may be for more wisdom.
Certainty insists that the answers are already known and must never be questioned. Wisdom on the other hand invites humility. Wisdom keeps learning. Wisdom remains open to growth, to fresh insight, and to the possibility that the mystery of God is always greater than our understanding.
Those are gifts that Non-Subscribing Presbyterians can offer.
And so we are left with a question: Will we simply become a club? Or do we have a deeper purpose and mission for the people in this area?
Will we be a place of judgement or a place of grace? A place of exclusion or a place of welcome? A place where people are expected to have everything sorted out, or a place where ordinary human beings can come with their questions, their struggles and their hopes, and discover that they are loved by God?
For that is how Jesus saw the crowds: not as good people or bad people, but as sheep without a shepherd. And it is still through such compassion that Christ continues his work in the world today.
Amen.
RSS Feed