• “I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20)

Most of us will not be called on to put our lives on the line for others, but it happens every day in hundreds of ways throughout the world. The person who dives into icy water to save someone from drowning, the soldier who throws  his body on a grenade to protect his buddies, the fireman who rushes into a blazing building to save a child, a bystander that confronts a gang to extricate
an innocent person from their midst.  These are all real-life examples of people who put someone else’s safety above their own.  We like to think that we are all like this, willing to put

 thoughts of self out of the way for a moment in time, so that we can save another.

When I was attending Redwood School in Grants Pass, probably in fourth or fifth grade, the circus came to town.  As I sat in class I noticed the flag hanging in the front of the room and the small spear-like pole with a sharp tip which supported it.  I happened to be wearing my cub scout uniform that day, so I was in an especially gallant mood and started daydreaming about a lion escaping from the circus and terrorizing the school.  I saw myself jump on a desk, scale a bookcase, and pull the flag pole from its holder.  I took the flag off the pole and folded it neatly like any good soldier, oops, scout, would.  I took the pole outside and approached the lion.  Remembering lion fighting from several Tarzan shows I had seen, I held the lion at bay with the small spear.  When it became apparent the lion was going to charge, I broke the spear over my knee and jammed the longer part of the spear in the lion’s open mouth!  About that time the teacher interrupted my heroics by asking me a question.  I hadn’t heard  the question, since I was busily saving 400 kids and teachers, so I could not answer. My teacher then made the mistake of saying that since I was apparently thinking about something other than Columbus, maybe I would like to share it with the class.  That was probably a mistake on her part. Since I was saving the school, I said sure, and hustled up front to tell the tale standing straight and tall in my Cub Scout uniform.  The story went over really well with the whole class and opened the door for me to tell stories the rest of the year when we had a little extra time in class.  I don’t think was the outcome my teacher had hoped for.

Why, you might be asking, did I take this trip down memory lane and kidnap you along the way?  Well, besides the fact that I am telling a story of me saving the entire school, I am using it to illustrate that we have probably all dreamed of helping others with some heroic act during our lifetime (some of us might still be doing it!).  Seldom, however, do we picture ourselves doing something in a cowardly way. We never see ourselves as the chicken scrambling faster than his three little brothers just fresh out of the shell; or the whimpering child lying in the middle of the floor in the midst of danger sucking our thumb like a newborn, or on a sinking ship pointing out a fake Clint Eastwood to a little old lady so we can steal her life jacket.  No, we seldom say we want to grow up to be a coward someday.  But courage is so lacking today.  So many tend to wilt under the smallest of pressure.  We don’t like to take stands unless they are safe and we don’t speak up unless we are preaching to the choir.  Plainly speaking, in most cases, we are a bunch of weenies.

We are so concerned with our own happiness, our own wants, our own pleasures that even if we have a chance to help someone else, we probably won’t even notice him.  Eyes that are turned inward will seldom be aware of the things that are outward.  We like to believe that we would step up if needed- that we would the one in the crowd that would rush to the crashed car or the crumpled woman or the fleeing purse snatcher.  But the truth of the matter is that we have trouble even handling the smallest of deed needs- the person who needs an encouraging word, the neighbor who desperately needs prayer, the co-worker who needs to hear about Jesus, the friend who is caught up in sin, are all challenges that we seem to struggle with as much as pulling a tiny tot from the path of the oncoming train.  Thankfully, Christ did not hesitate to step it up for us.  He went to the cross knowing the pain that He would bear, but did it anyway.  He knew that He would be beaten beyond recognition, but He did it anyway.  He knew that he would face an excruciating physical death and the weight of all our sins in just a few hours span, but He did it anyway.  Why? So that we would not have to.  He went where we deserved to go, so we would not have to.  He went so that we could, in turn, have courage to do what is right- to stand in the face of great odds- to never give up and to sacrifice for others regardless of the cost.

One of the saddest but compelling stories from WWII was about a group of about 20 prisoners under an especially cruel guard. Each day they would be required to take a shovel and go out into the prison yard and dig. At the end of each day the prisoners would come back to their barracks and line up their shovels against the wall for the guard to count. On this particular day when the guard counted, he only counted 19 shovels. “Who lost their shovel?” the guard shouted. “If the man who lost his shovel does not step forward I’m going to kill five of you at a time until he does step forward!”

It was at this point that a young 19-year-old POW stepped forward taking the blame for having lost his shovel. The evil, blood-thirsty guard immediately took out his revolver put it to the boy’s head and pulled the trigger killing him instantly. As the teenager’s dead body lay crumpled on the ground his fellow prisoners were aghast because of what had just happened.  But they didn’t know the half of it.

By mistake or on purpose, no one really knows for sure, the guard had miscounted the shovels. Twenty shovels were leaning against that barracks wall.  That 19-year-old POW knew that when he stepped forward, he was offering his life as a sacrifice for his fellow prisoners, but he did it anyway.  Nineteen years old, hundreds of miles from home, dying for something he did not do, to save men who would not be able to thank him, just a few weeks before the war’s end.  Some would call that stupid.  I would call that Christ-like.

If we were to prioritize things in our lives, how high up would our concern for others be.  Paul tells us to,  “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.”  Philippians 2:3-4  When we follow our own selfish desires to the detriment of others, and then say we are brave enough save someone else, we are fooling ourselves.

We are like the man who is asked, “If you had two houses, would you give one to the poor?”

The man replies, “Yes.”

The man is asked, “If you had four cars, would give two to the poor?”

Again he replies, “Yes.”

He is finally is asked, “If you had two shirts, would you give one to the poor?”

The man quickly says, “No.”

“You will give houses and cars, but won’t give shirts. Why not?” he is asked.

“Because I have two shirts,” he replies.

We can say that we will do all kinds of things, but the truth of what we would do in tough times is probably previewed in the way we live our daily lives.  If we live our lives for ourselves in times of leisure how can we say would sacrifice in times of danger?  It is like the man who says he would die to protect his family, but can’t take the time to talk to his kids about their day.  It doesn’t make sense. If we are Christ-like, our world will not revolve around us, but Christ.  And as our world revolves around Him we will notice others needs before our own. And finally, we will be able live a life that is not obsessed with “numero uno.”  And finally we will find the contentment we have always searched for.