IT was one of those cold but sunny winter afternoons. A number of people were out walking along the sea front, blowing away the cobwebs. They were all muffled up in coats and scarves. Children and dogs ran around to keep warm.

The sea was rough. Huge white horses crashed on top of each other racing towards the promenade. Then the seething foam sucked at the sand and pebbles as if to swallow the whole beach only to be drowned by the next mighty wave.

Suddenly there was a general commotion; screams and shouting, people running, and all attention was riveted on one spot. Three lads had been playing at dodging the waves, standing near the water and running up the beach as each wave came in. Now one of them was several yards out being mercilessly tossed and pounded by those huge breakers.

No-one seemed to know quite what had happened. Had he fallen? Had one of them pushed him? Had he got too close and been dragged by the sheer force of the tide? One or two tried to wade in, but it was impossible to reach the boy. Each wave seemed to take him further away.

Some had run out on a breakwater, but they too tried in vain to help. If the lad was still conscious, he could not hear or respond to their yelling. I was in my teens at the time and remember still my amazement at the strength of that swirling, surging water. The ease with which it had ripped the clothes from the young boy's back had to be seen to be believed.

Eventually the lad was dragged clear. At almost the same time a helicopter arrived from a nearby R.A.F. station and the lad was airlifted to hospital. Sadly we learned a day or two later that he had not survived the ordeal.

It was a tragic end to a pleasant afternoon and a sober lesson. I had often diced with the waves in that way myself. My sister and I often played at daring the waves to reach our feet as we scrambled backwards out of their way. I don't think we ever played when it was quite as rough as it was that day. I don't remember ever falling in. But I know we did get splashed and even soaked once or twice.
Do I hear you say, "It's only childlike"?

The problem is that most grown-ups play the same game! Not at the seaside, I don't mean, but with life. They dice with temptation. They court disaster. They go looking for trouble. They play with fire. The fatality rate is very high.

Playing With Fire
Sometimes we can see it coming. We watch someone make a dead set at another who may be married. We know what the result will be. Yet those involved do not appear to sense the danger. The man who repeatedly takes risks in his business; we can see what will happen. Yet we cannot convince those closest to the situation that anything is wrong.

The Bible has a proverb:-
"Can a man take fire to his bosom, and his clothes not be burned?"
(Proverbs 6:27)

The New Testament uses a graphic phrase that always reminds me of that tragic afternoon by the sea. It speaks of those whose clothes are "spotted by the flesh" and of "pulling them out of the fire" as we had vainly tried to tug that young lad from the grip of the ocean.

There are a thousand ways in which we all place ourselves in the way of temptation. They may be less important than those listed above. They may be less obvious. For those serious about finding true happiness, however, we spend a lot of time doing the wrong things.

The whole aim of the game is to get as close as you can to the waves without letting them get to you. In life that is not the right approach. We ask the wrong questions. We go to the wrong places. We try to see how far we can go without actually getting into trouble.

So the boy in school tries to see how far he can push the teacher but still get away with it. The courting couple want to see how far they can go without doing something they might be ashamed of. The person at work wants to see how much they can get away with not doing and still keep the boss sweet.

That is human nature. It is something we all share. Yet the end can be as tragic. We are running a risk in a matter of life and death. We are wasting precious time seeing how far we can go with God. If we appear to get away with it, we push a little harder or go a little further.

It may sound boring to walk along the promenade and not play games, but it is safe. It is also surprisingly pleasant. The child will not believe it. The grown-up knows there is as much pleasure to be found in the walk and the view.

It is the child who is still asking: "How near to the danger can I go?" The question really ought to be: "How far away can I get?" "How much closer to God can I draw?" "What steps can I take to put His wisdom into practice in my life?" If it sounds boring, it is because we have not grown up. Walking to please God can be pleasant and more rewarding than our pointless games. 