By now everybody has heard the news: 12 soccer players from Thailand, and their coach, were rescued in heroic fashion from a cave. I heard one radio commentator say that this was one of those rare news stories, where the whole world rejoiced in the outcome. I think he’s right. There were no protests outside the cave. There was no one trying to convince the rescuers not to go in. There were no appeals courts deliberating whether in fact the soccer players had the right to be saved. And as far as I know, there was no one on the planet hoping the rescue efforts would fail, because there were 13 human lives at stake. I know there was a Babylon Bee story with the title, “Huffington Post Criticizes Thai Navy SEALs For Displaying ‘Toxic Masculinity’ During Daring Cave Rescue.” But that was satire. In fact, the whole world rejoiced that these 13 people were rescued, and saddened that one of the rescuers lost his life in the attempt.
Much has been written about this event, and I hope you will forgive me if I offer a perspective on it that you may not have heard. Think with me about this. These 13 were absolutely helpless to get out of that underwater cave by themselves. It was impossible. Hopeless. Their only hope was for someone to come from the outside, someone who had the strength to pull them to safety. They could do nothing to help their rescuer except to hold on, by faith, and allow the rescuer to do the work necessary to save their lives. The rescuers reached into the deepest part of a hopeless situation, and brought the dead back to life. As far as I know, not one of those people said to the rescuer, “I know you think I need being rescued, but that’s simply not true. I’m fine right where I am. I hear you say there’s a way out, but I don’t need it. Why can’t you just leave me alone and let me live my life the way I want to? I like it here in this cave!” No one said that, because they knew the desperation, the hopelessness, the inevitable end they faced without a rescuer. The rescuer. The one who came for them.
The fabric of the universe is woven around the most dramatic rescue operation ever. You know this verse, right? “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” Maybe the world was riveted by this story in Thailand, as we were by the rescue of 18-month-old Jessica McClure in 1987, because we were created by God, in his image. And God is a rescuer. Jessica fell into a well in her aunt’s backyard in Midland, Texas, and it took rescuers 56 hours to free her from the eight-inch well casing, 22 feet below the ground. The whole world watched and prayed, and then rejoiced when she was saved. We love stories of daring rescues, and all the more when we come to understand the Gospel.
The Gospel was on display in those watery caves that were denied becoming watery graves. Thirteen people were rescued from certain death. The truth is, we all need to be rescued from eternal death, because of our sin, and there is only one rescuer. The old hymn describes Jesus’ rescue mission this way: “Bearing shame and scoffing rude, in my place condemned he stood, sealed my pardon with his blood, Hallelujah, what a Savior!”
The cross? That was a heroic rescue for the ages. And for all who will believe. There is no other.