On the morning of December 6, 1917, a French munitions ship caught fire in Halifax Harbour. Train dispatcher Vincent Coleman learned the burning ship could explode. He was worried about the overnight passenger train from Saint John, carrying about 300 people, which was due to pass right by the harbour. Coleman had left his wife Frances and their two-year-old daughter Eileen at home that morning. Instead of running, he went back to his telegraph key and tapped out a warning: “Hold up the train. Munitions ship on fire and making for Pier 6… Goodbye boys.” Moments later the ship exploded, and Coleman likely died instantly at his post. His message stopped the other inbound trains and alerted the railway to the disaster.
On January 13, 1982, an Air Florida jet struck a Washington bridge and plunged into the ice-covered Potomac River. A rescue helicopter dropped a line to the few survivors clinging to the wreckage in the freezing water. One man kept catching it and handing it to others he thought were worse off than himself. Five people were saved. When the helicopter came back for him, he was gone. For a long time no one knew his name. A Coast Guard investigation later identified him as Arland D. Williams Jr., and President Reagan awarded him the Gold Lifesaving Medal. He did not have to pass the line. He chose to, again and again.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a brilliant young German pastor and theologian. In his book The Cost of Discipleship, Bonhoeffer warned against what he called cheap grace. He wrote that cheap grace is “grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.” He did not just write it. He resisted, and he was arrested and imprisoned. He was moved from Tegel prison to Buchenwald and then to Flossenburg. On April 9, 1945, just one month before Germany surrendered, he was hanged with six other resisters. Grace is free, but it was never cheap. It cost Jesus His life, and following Him still calls for our whole lives.
In 1523 William Tyndale asked the bishop of London for permission to translate the New Testament into English. The bishop said no. Tyndale realized the work would not be welcome anywhere in England, so he left. In 1525 in the city of Worms, his New Testament came off the press, the first translation from Greek into English. Copies were smuggled into England. Church and government leaders were furious, and they bought up copies to get them off the streets. Ironically, that money helped fund Tyndale’s next work. He was finally betrayed, and on October 6, 1536, he was executed. John Foxe said he cried out, “Lord, open the King of England’s eyes!” He did not curse his enemies. He prayed for them.
