If you’re waiting to be rescued, what are you still waiting for?

By David McElroy · May 7, 2019

Few of us like to admit that we sometimes need to be rescued.

We like to believe we’re self-sufficient. We like to believe that nothing can stop us. We like to believe that we don’t need outside help. But when we’re honest with ourselves, we all know better.

Have you ever been in trouble and pleaded with God to help you? Those of us who are Christians know what it’s like to pray about our troubles and to ask God for help. But even non-religious people are prone to begging God for help when things get bad enough in their lives.

Have you ever been in the depths of despair — begging to God or the Universe or fate for help — and wondered why the solution you desperately wanted never showed up?

Maybe the answer to your prayer was already right in front of you. Maybe you were ignoring it because it wasn’t what you wanted or expected. Maybe it wasn’t convenient.

As I thought this morning about this common human pattern — something I’ve been guilty of — I thought of an old story that I heard in a sermon one time.

There was once a man whose neighborhood flooded and he fled to his roof to escape the rising waters. He prayed for God to rescue him.

Then another man came floating by in a rowboat, and he shouted out to the man to jump in.

“I can save you,” the man said. “I have room for you.”

But the stranded man declined his help.

“No, that’s OK,” he shouted back. “I’m praying to God for help and he’s going to save me. I’m waiting for a miracle.”

So the man in the rowboat moved on.

A few minutes later, another man came by, this time in a motorboat. He shouted for the man on the roof to get into his boat, but the stranded man turned him down.

“No thanks,” he called back. “I’m praying to God and he’s going to save me. I have faith in the Lord.”

So the motorboat went on.

Then a helicopter flew near the man’s house and the pilot spotted the stranded man. The waters had risen far enough that the man was perched on the last exposed part of his roof.

“Grab this rope,” the pilot shouted, “and I can pull you up.”

“No thanks,” the man shouted back. “I’m praying to God and he is going to save me. I have faith.”

So the pilot reluctantly left the man on the roof. The waters finally rose high enough to cover the entire roof. The man had nowhere to go, so he drowned.

After the man got to heaven and had a chance to talk with God, he expressed frustration and anger.

“I had faith in you but you didn’t save me,” he said bitterly. “You let me drown. I don’t understand why.”

But God saw things differently.

“I sent you a rowboat and then a motorboat and finally a helicopter,” God said. “I heard your prayers and answered. What more did you expect?”

When we’re unhappy, we look for answers. But we have strong opinions about what the solutions have to look like. We’re picky. We’re unwilling to make trade-offs.

And then we find ourselves stuck with a lifelong problem, one which had a solution that was offered to us. After it’s too late, we discover that we had the solution we were looking for — but we were too blind to accept it.

Everybody needs help at times, but it’s up to us to accept the help which can change things for us. Nobody else can do that.

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Do antidepressants work? It depends on who you ask and what standards you use. But a new Danish study concludes we just don’t know. There’s no question antidepressants make chemical changes in the brain, but the truth is that doctors don’t know enough about those brain processes to do anything more than try certain drugs and see what they do. The Danish study says that if antidepressants do help, the effects are tiny. I know plenty of people who swear they couldn’t live without their antidepressants, but the more I study about the root causes of depression, the more I suspect the placebo effect is what’s going on. Although some studies suggest these drugs have slight positive effects for some people, others argue that the positive effects are tiny — and that they cause more deaths than can be explained. There’s nothing wrong with using any drug that helps with something wrong with us — especially short term — but I’m coming to suspect that whatever good SSRIs and similar drugs do comes from masking our underlying issues, not fixing them. Denial is popular with humans, so it will be no surprise if this eventually turns out to be true.

Your brain has almost certainly tricked you into making bad romantic choices. A California psychology professor writes in Psychology Today that there are four things our brains do that cause trouble: 1) We think we know what we want — but we don’t. I’ve seen this in myself and if you haven’t seen it yet, you will. The things I wanted in a mate when I was young are completely different from what the mature version of myself wants. 2) We like more choices — as many as possible. We tend to believe that more choices lead to a better selection in all sorts of areas, but the truth is that too many choices tend to lead to the paralysis of failure to choose. 3) We try to be rational by “keeping our options open.” We’re scared to make the choices we need to make, because we’re scared of doing the wrong thing. This keeps us trapped in bad situations — and better choices eventually disappear. 4) We stay with the wrong people, because we don’t want our effort to go to waste. I’ve done this. Maybe you have, too. On several occasions, I’ve stayed in a relationship that I knew was dead and needed to end. At this point in my life, I know to trust my gut. It’s a lot smarter about most things than my conscious brain.

I just noticed that I’m approaching 3,000 subscribers for this site again. Although I’ve had plenty of individual days with far higher readership, the core of any site is those readers who are interested enough to subscribe and keep coming back. In the days when I wrote about politics, I hit 3,000 subscribers at my peak, but once I shifted focus, those subscribers started dropping like flies. These days, the readership numbers are still lower than they were when I wrote about politics, but I think it’s a better quality reader — people who are interested in something more important to long-term happiness than politics will ever be. I don’t know if I’ll hit 30,000 readers in one day anytime soon — as I did one day years ago when Rush Limbaugh and several conservative commentators linked to me — but I appreciate those of you who keep coming back again and again. I can’t thank you individually — and I don’t even know who you are — but I want you to know that I really appreciate you.

Few things threaten the future of the human race as much as the decline of the widespread ability to read words and evaluate them rationally. This has become a culture dominated by images and emotions, which scares me because our freedom and our wealth were built on ideas and rational thinking. Not so long ago, it was considered vital for every person to be able to read coherent arguments and respond to them with intelligence and reason. Today, emotions trump reason and images trump words. When Neil Postman published “Amusing Ourselves to Death” in 1985, he made the argument that the age of television was slowly destroying Americans’ ability to reason. Postman is long dead, but it turns out that he and other academics such as Marshall McLuhan saw where things were going far before words started falling out of favor. I beg you to read Postman’s short and clear book, but if you won’t invest that much time, at least consider this article about news today. In “Could I have some news with my emotions, please?” a former NBC News executive bemoans the sad state of “emotion over information” in television news. I believe “television news” is an oxymoron, but I’ll leave that for another time.

UPDATE: For about 18 hours, I thought I had made a serious mistake at work last month that had sent a couple thousand dollars to the wrong party. When a problem was discovered last night, the data available to us in our accounting system made it seem certain that I had made that error. I felt sick. I was humiliated. Even though I’ve handled hundreds of real estate transactions for my company — millions of dollars — without ever making an error, I felt shame that I had made this one mistake. But it turns out that an anomaly in our accounting software was hiding the truth. Once I got to the office Thursday and reviewed the paperwork from the transaction, I discovered that I had done everything correctly. It’s great that I didn’t make the mistake, but it would be even better if I could learn not to have such horrible physical reactions of shame and fear just because someone else believes I’ve made an error. The fear of being flawed is very powerful for me. Old programming from childhood is hard to change.

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