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At last, a few showers. They’ve never been more welcome in this strange, uncomfortable, record-breaking summer. Day after day of sunshine, held fitfully at bay by air conditioning on overtime, cooling drinks, and the drawn curtains which to an earlier generation would have signalled a community in mourning. Today they might be reminding us of lost gardens, parched lawns, and blazing hillsides, threatening some homes directly, and sending a choking warning over great distances. At the same time, the heat has taken a grim toll among people seeking to cool off in rivers, lakes and at the seaside - this week a couple and their 14-year-old daughter in the sea off Shoreham, in Sussex. Understandably there’s been a huge outpouring of sympathy. The emergency response included coastguards, lifeboat and ambulance services and police, and I think it’s good to pause occasionally to honour men and women who give themselves to rescue services of all kinds. Leading the battle against the wildfires across the country, of course, have been firefighters. We marvel at their willingness to get up close, putting their own lives in jeopardy. How they must sweat before those flames, wearing their heavy protective gear, as conscious of the risk they’re taking as the volunteers crewing a lifeboat in a stormy sea. And how their families must share the anxiety. I believe the would-be rescuers reflect something of the character of a God who is also in the business of rescue – often getting people out of scrapes of their own making. It was while we were still helpless, powerless, says St.Paul, that Jesus Christ died for us. There’s regular debate about how we should treat people in difficulties because of what they’ve consumed, knowing it could harm them. Within the rescue services, I suspect there’s occasional irritation, anger maybe, at those who put themselves at risk needlessly…sailing the channel in bathtubs, attempting to scale serious peaks wearing flip flops. But those who’ve trained for this mission still do it, because they might be the only hope. On a glorious sunny day sixty years ago, I ventured into the sea from a popular beach in Jersey, with big waves and wonderful surf. Hardly a swimmer at all, I was soon in trouble. Currents I knew nothing of sucked me under, and no matter how I fought, I was helpless. I really thought I would drown….before I was fished out by a team of lifesavers, feeling shaken, foolish and very grateful, one of a dozen rescued that day. It’s not how I usually put it, but I understand why some people finding faith in Jesus talk of being saved. I’ve been rescued, and I’m glad today’s rescue services remind me.
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