On one of my recent journeys, as I looked out of the coach window, I was led to reflect on the condition of the multitudes around me. They were living in the most open and shameless recklessness and rebellion against God, with no regard for their eternal welfare. As I looked out of the window, I seemed to see them all—millions of people all around me, given over to their drinking and pleasure, their dancing and music, their business and anxieties, their politics and problems, ignorant—willfully ignorant in many cases—and in other cases, knowing all about the truth and not caring at all. But all of them, the whole multitude, carry on their blasphemies and devilry right up to the Throne of God.
While my mind was thus occupied, I had a vision. I saw a dark and stormy ocean. Above it, black clouds were gathering. From time to time, bright flashes of lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. The winds moaned and the waves rose and foamed, rose and broke, only to rise and foam, rise and break again.
In that ocean, I thought I saw myriads of poor human beings diving and floating, shouting and screaming, cursing, struggling and drowning; and as they cursed and shouted, they rose and screamed again, and then some sank never to rise again. And I saw, in the midst of that dark and tumultuous ocean, a mighty rock whose summit rose above the black clouds that hung over the raging sea. All around the base of that great rock, I saw a vast platform. On that platform, I saw with joy a number of poor unfortunates struggling, drowning, and continually emerging from the angry ocean.
And I saw that some of those who were already safe on the platform were helping the poor creatures who were still in the raging waters to reach the place of safety. Looking more closely, I saw that a number of those who had been saved were working earnestly and organizing ladders, ropes, boats, and other more effective means to get the unfortunate people struggling in the sea out of the water. Here and there, some even threw themselves into the water, without regard for the consequences, in their passion to "save those who are perishing." And I don't know which delighted me more: the sight of the poor people who were drowning, climbing up the rocks and reaching a place of safety, or the dedication and self-sacrifice of those people who gave themselves entirely to the task of delivering them.
As I looked, I saw that the occupants of this platform were quite motley. They were indeed divided into different 'groups' or classes, and engaged in various pleasures and occupations. But only a very few of them seemed to have made it their business to get people out of the sea. But what puzzled me most was the fact that, although they had all been rescued at one time or another from the ocean, almost all of them seemed to have forgotten it. In any case, the memory of darkness and danger no longer seemed to trouble them. And what struck me as equally strange and perplexing was that these people did not even appear to care—that is, to feel anguished—for the poor people who were struggling and drowning before their eyes—many of whom were their own husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, and even their own children.
This astonishing indifference could not be the result of any ignorance or lack of knowledge, for they lived there, in full view of all this, and sometimes even talked about it. Many even regularly went to listen to lectures and sermons describing the terrible state of these poor drowning creatures. I have always said that the occupants of this platform engaged in different activities and hobbies. Some of them were absorbed day and night in trade and business to make gains, keeping their savings in boxes, safes, and so on. Many spent their time amusing themselves by growing flowers on the side of the rock, others by painting pieces of cloth or playing music, or by dressing in different ways and walking around to be admired. Some were mainly occupied with eating and drinking, others were arguing about the poor drowning creatures who had already been rescued.
I saw a great Being from above come out of His palace and through the dark clouds. And He jumped into the raging sea, in the midst of the drowning people. And there I saw Him strive to save them until His great anguish made Him sweat until he bled. And He continually cried out to those who had already been saved, to those whom He had helped with His own bloody hands, to come and help Him in the painful and laborious task of saving the lost.
But what seemed most astonishing to me was that those on the platform whom he called, who heard his voice and felt they had to obey him—at least they said they did—those who confessed that they loved him very much and were in full solidarity with him in the task he had undertaken—those who adored him or professed to do so—were so taken up with their jobs and careers, their economies and pleasures, their families and backgrounds, their religions and their discussions about them, and their preparations for going to dry land, that they were not listening to the cry that came to them from this wonderful Being who had himself descended into the sea. In any case, if they heard it, they paid no attention. They didn't care.
So the multitude continued before them, struggling, shouting and drowning in the darkness.
Then I saw something that seemed even stranger than anything that had happened before in that strange vision. I saw that some of those people on the platform, whom this wonderful Being had called to come and help Him in His difficult task of saving these lost creatures, were still praying and crying out for Him to come to them! Some wanted Him to come and stay with them, to devote His time and strength to making them happier. Others wanted Him to come and dispel the doubts and worries they had about the truthfulness of certain letters He had written to them. Some wanted Him to come and help them feel more secure on the rock, so that they would be assured that they would never again slip into the ocean. Many wanted Him to come and give them the certainty of leaving the rock and one day reaching dry land. Everyone was aware that some, through carelessness, had slipped and fallen back into the turbulent waters.
These people would gather together and climb as high as they could on the rock, looking down towards the mainland, believing that the Great Being was there, and would cry out: "Come to us!" Come and help us! And meanwhile, He was below (by His Spirit) among the poor creatures struggling and drowning in the tumultuous abyss. He would put His arms around them to deliver them, looking up with desperate intensity towards those on the rock. His voice, hoarse from so much calling, would resound: "Come to Me! Come, and help Me!"
It was then that I understood everything. Everything was clear. The sea was the ocean of life, the sea of true, real human existence. That lightning was the glimmer of penetrating truth from the throne of Jehovah. That thunder was the distant echo of God's anger. Those multitudes of people screaming, struggling, and dying in the troubled sea were thousands upon thousands of poor prostitutes and sellers of prostitutes, drunkards and sellers of drunkards, thieves, liars, blasphemers, and ungodly people of every kind, tongue, and nation. Oh! What a black sea! And what a multitude of rich and poor, ignorant and educated! All sinners before God, all held by iniquity, fascinated by an idol, enslaved by a diabolical lust, and ruled by the filthy demon of the bottomless pit!
“All alike in one thing? No, all alike in two things—not only alike in their wickedness, but, unless rescued, alike in their continual descent toward the same terrible fate.
The great rock that sheltered them represented Calvary, the place where Jesus had died for them. And the people there were those who had been saved. The way they used their energies, gifts, and time reflected the pursuits and pastimes of those who claimed to be saved from sin and hell—the followers of the Lord Jesus Christ. A handful of courageous and determined men risked their lives to save those in danger, acting as true soldiers of the cross of Jesus. That mighty Being who called them from the midst of the troubled waters was the Son of God, “the same yesterday, today, and forever.” He still struggles and intercedes today to save the dying multitudes around us, thus preserving them from that terrible destiny of damnation. His voice echoes above the melodies, the machines, and the tumult of life, inviting those who have been saved to come and help Him in His mission to save the world.
My friends in Christ, you are saved from the waters, you are on the rock. He is in the dark sea and calls you to come to Him and help Him. Will you go? Look for yourselves. The tumultuous sea of life, filled with lost multitudes, is pouring right into the very place where you stand.
Beyond the vision, I will now address a fact—a fact that is as real as the Bible, as real as Christ hanging on the cross, as real as the day of judgment, and as real as the heaven and hell that will follow it.
Look! Don't be fooled by appearances: people and things are not always what they seem. All those who are not on the rock are in the sea! Look at them from the standpoint of the great White Throne, and what a vision you have! Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is, by His Spirit, in the midst of this dying multitude, struggling to save them. And He is calling you to jump into the sea—to join Him without hesitation and help Him in this sacred struggle. Will you jump? That is, will you place yourself at His feet and place yourself absolutely at His disposal?
A young Christian woman once confided in me that she had already offered her career, her prayers, and her money to the Lord, but now she wanted to give Him her life. She wanted to go straight to the fight. In other words, she wanted to help Him in the sea. Just as a man on the shore, seeing another struggling in the water, strips off his cumbersome garments and dives in to help him, so you who still linger on the shore—thinking, singing, and praying for these perishing souls—abandon your shame, your pride, your concern for the opinions of others, your love of ease, and all the selfish loves that have so long held you back, and rush to the aid of this multitude of dying men and women.
Does the surging sea seem dark and dangerous to you? It is undeniable. There is no doubt that the leap, for you as for all who take it, means hardship, contempt, and suffering. For you, it may mean more than that. It may mean death. But He who calls you from the sea knows what it means, and knowing it, He calls you and asks you to come.
You must do it! You cannot refrain. You have enjoyed Christianity long enough. You have had pleasant sensations, pleasant songs, pleasant meetings, pleasant projects. There has been much human joy, much clapping and shouting of praise—in short, it is heaven on earth. Now go to God and tell Him that you are willing, as much as necessary, to turn your back on all that, and that you are willing to spend the rest of your days struggling amidst these lost multitudes, no matter the price.
You must do it. With the light that has penetrated your mind, the call ringing in your ears, and the hands beckoning before your eyes, you have no other choice. Going down among the lost crowds is your duty. Your happiness will henceforth be to share their misery, your ease to share their pain, your crown to help them carry their cross, and your heaven to go into the very jaws of hell to rescue them.
May this vision sound like a vibrant call to engage with our Lord in the race to save the lost before it is too late for many of them.
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