For those in peril

 

Im writing this sitting on a big boat in the middle of the sea en route from Belfast to Liverpool.  I have practically a whole deck to myself as I'm guessing most people have opted to book a cabin for the eight hour crossing.   I'm looking out of the window across the grey expanse of freezing cold water and thinking about those who risked life and limb many centuries ago to bring the gospel to our lands.   We are an island.  They definitely came by boat.  And it definitely wasn’t a plush comfortable ferry with dining facilities and on board cinema!

There’s been so much in the news of late about the fate of migrants crossing the English channel in inflatable boats and perishing within sight of shore.  We rightly feel despairing that people continue to feel so oppressed, miserable, hounded and persecuted, disadvantaged and hopeless that they consider making such ridiculously life threatening and dangerous journeys.

But hundreds of years ago men and women opted to make that same journey in even more primitive craft so that they could bring good news of a Saviour to our country.   Back then there might not have been oil tankers cruising the shipping lanes, but the sea was just as cold, the weather just as volatile and the outcome just as uncertain as it is for migrants today.   How passionate and driven must they have been in order to undertake that journey? They had only oars and sails and the stars.  I presume that most of them didn’t envisage ever returning home, should they have made it to the UK in the first place.   We hear about  some of the saints who landed, preached, converted and left a lasting legacy.  But what about the ones who tried and perished?  Isn't it humbling to think that people were willing to leave their homes and families and travel huge distances putting themselves in great peril so that you and I could know Jesus?     I don’t think about them very often at all, but today I am deeply thankful for each of my brothers and sisters  who answered the call to go.