It was long ago in San Francisco. A group of us went to the beach by the Cliff House. We got to the beach about nine o'clock in the morning. The fog was just beginning to lift, and in a little while we were shocked to see all kinds of wreckage on the shore. Where did it all come from?
We learned that a ship, the Rio de Janeiro, on its way home from the Orient, had tried to enter San Francisco Harbor in the darkness and thick fog. It had run upon the rocks and was broken to pieces. Many passengers drowned; a few escaped.
Among the rescued was a young American journalist. Both of his legs had been broken when the ship crashed against the rocks. Only partly conscious, he dragged himself to the deck. There he lay until the surging waves washed him into the cold waters of the bay. The shock probably restored him to full consciousness and he began to float. Hours afterward that utterly helpless man was drawn out of the water by a rescue party.
What a picture of God's grace to the helpless and needy! There were some—strong, healthy men—who swam for hours before they were picked up. Many others became exhausted and drowned. But this man, seriously injured, could not save himself. He was totally helpless. Yet through God's grace and mercy he was saved.
What a picture of us: of you, of me! We too were helpless, lost and far away from God. But God, in the great love with which He loved us, sent His own dear Son to rescue us by dying in our place. And now all who believe on Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.
When we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. Romans 5:6