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WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST ... AND ONE MAN

I suppose it's one of the great villainous moments in literature or film anywhere. If you've gone out and rented Mr. James Cameron's recent three-hour Oscar triumph, or read Walter Lord's old classic book, you recall how a Mr. Bruce Ismay is up on the deck of a certain sinking ship. People are getting into the lifeboats — "women and children only," of course. There are way more people than lifeboats, and so it's already known than many hundreds are going to die in the freezing Atlantic Ocean there on April 15, 1912.
And there, right at the last minute, as the officer in charge is looking the other direction, this Bruce Ismay, Managing Director of the White Star Line, quietly slips into Boat C, one of the last of the lifeboats. It's all women and children there, and they look at him. Why should you be on board? And it's a moment of utter contempt, where this worm, this weasel, saves his own neck while others drown.

Our radio series title for the week is this: WHAT A REAL MAN DOES. With our focus being on Jesus Christ, of course. But here we ask: What does a real man do when death is imminent and someone has to make the supreme sacrifice?

In Walter Lord's book, dating back to 1955, he compiles some of the great Titanic stories of what men did and said on that final night of their lives. A young bridegroom named Dan Marvin said to his new wife, a smile on his face: "It's all right, little girl. You go and I'll stay a while." He blew her a kiss as she got in the boat. A Mrs. Douglas said to her husband, "Walter, you must come with me." And he shook his head. "No." And he turned away from her with these wonderful last words. "I must be a gentleman."
A man named Arthur was having a hard time getting his wife to get on one of the lifeboats. And the book's author puts the scene in these words:

"Arthur Ryerson had to lay down the law to Mrs. Ryerson: ‘You must obey orders. When they say "Women and children to the boats," you must go when your turn comes." And then, knowing the awful truth, but keeping it to himself, he added: "I'll stay here with Jack Thayer. We'll be all right."

Another man, a Mr. Lucien Smith, had to be equally strong, a real man. He said to his wife very firmly: "I never expected to ask you to OBEY, but this is one time you must. It is only a matter of form to have women and children first." And then again, showing a good man's willingness to cover over his own quiet realization, he said: "The ship is thoroughly equipped and everyone on her will be saved."

Well, these small stories give us a picture of real men, but Walter Lord even captures some of the behind-the-scenes heroics among employees of the White Star Line.

"Down in the engine room," he writes, "no one even thought of getting away. Men struggled desperately to keep the steam up . . . the lights lit . . . the pumps going."

Captain Smith, toward the end, went from man to man, telling them: "That's enough. You've done your duty. Now it's every man for himself." Many men stayed at their posts beyond even that time; nearly all of them drowned minutes later. And all the while, Mr. Bruce Ismay, floating safely in Boat C, the only "(quote) man" surrounded by women and children who had lost their husbands and fathers, had to live with his conscience.
Well, what would any of us have done? We're probably glad we don't have to answer that question, and our focus this week is on a much braver and better Man anyway. But we all have this sense, deep down in our souls and consciences, that a real man is willing to sacrifice greatly, even his life if necessary.

Of course, we think automatically of that great verse found in John 15, where Jesus Himself gives us this definition of real love:

"Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends."

That's the New International Version, but the King James probably suits us better for this week's particular topic. Notice:

"Greater love hath no MAN than this, that a MAN lay down his life for his friends."

That's a powerful image, isn't it, and we can all look up at the cross to envision the ultimate expression of Jesus' own words. He certainly practiced what He preached, didn't He? He did what a real Man does.

But join me in broadening that definition. Because as inspiring as those Titanic moments were, they were encapsulated into a brief, horrible time span of two hours and forty minutes while that great ship went down. But the Bible is telling us here that a real man will always live a life of sacrifice for others, of always serving. His whole life. Over and over again, Jesus, the King of the universe, tells His 12 greedy, grasping, power-hungry disciple followers: "A real man isn't served; he serves. I came here to serve. A real man washes the feet of others; a real man turns the other cheek. A real man takes the blows that should be meted out to someone else." No wonder the prophet Isaiah predicts in amazement: "And with His stripes we are healed." Again, that's the ultimate statement about what a real Man came here to do.

You know, even for Jesus, this real Manhood, this sacrificing spirit, didn't just show up for a few Titanic moments on that last Friday at Calvary. Think about it. Jesus Christ came down from heaven, from His Father's throne and His throne, to be born on planet earth. That in itself was sacrifice, the acting out of a Man's role. The Son of Man, that is. He didn't come here just for a weekend; He came down here and stood on the deck of this old sinking ship for 33 years. He put women and children and sinners and Pharisees and hypocrites onto the lifeboats; for 33 years He did that. And then stayed on board and went down with the ship all by Himself.

Let me add one more thought that is absolutely incredible to me. I mentioned on Monday this tremendous book, In the Footsteps of Jesus, by Hollywood actor Bruce Marchiano, who spent months in the African desert filming a movie about Jesus. And this young Christian writes over and over about how it hit him that Jesus was a MAN. He acted as a man should act; He modeled manhood, the power and strength of godly masculinity time and time again.

But as the South African crew filmed the final scenes — you know, there in Pilate's judgment hall, standing trial, going to Calvary — a new thought hit Bruce Marchiano. And he writes in amazement:

"Why did He not do the things He could have?"

You know, we're so moved by the things Jesus did. And this week we find that He did many things that model manhood. But what about the things He did NOT do, Bruce writes. He stood there being accused, and He didn't fight back. He didn't retaliate. He didn't argue. He defended others, but He never defended Himself.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, and then again when He got up to Calvary, it would have been nothing for Jesus to escape from the pain He was in. He could have walked away from the Cross; God would have gladly sent a heavenly limousine made up of ten thousand angels to rescue Him. Maybe you've sung that old gospel song: "He could have called ten thousand angels, To destroy the world and set Him free. He could have called ten thousand angels, But He died alone for you and me." You know, that's an absolutely true statement; Jesus Himself says so when He's arrested in Gethsemane, as recorded by Matthew in chapter 26. The next day He really could have come down from the cross when the sarcastic thief next to Him dared Him to, and when the crowd all around chanted the same thing: "Come on down, Big Shot." Actor Bruce Marchiano actually did hang on a cross for a whole day as they filmed this amazing story, and this is what struck him right in the heart until he could barely contain the emotion: So here is a real Man NOT doing the thing He could so easily have done.

It would be like the man on the Titanic who IS offered a seat on a lifeboat. "Go ahead," a steward says. "There's room. Get on." And the real man says, "No. There are still women and children. I'll stay behind." That man is measured by what he does NOT do — meaning, take the coward's way out on Lifeboat C.

Well, friend, we didn't ride on that great maiden voyage, and we haven't been nailed to a cross of our own. Not yet, at least. But what a picture for us of what a real Man will do. And for each of us, having a connection with God, and with His Son — that greatest of real Men — is what enables us to follow suit. Knowing there is a heaven, an eternal kingdom, on the other side of our sacrifices is what enables us to make those sacrifices.
On that fateful April night, there was a man on board who knew something about God and the real Man, Jesus, and about the promise of eternity.

Rev. Robert Baseman of Jacksonville was sailing to New York, accompanying his sister-in-law, Mrs. Ada Balls. She got onto one of the last lifeboats, and he remained behind. At the very last moment, he called out to her: "If I don't meet you again in this world, I will in the next." And he tossed her his necktie as a keepsake, as a kind of pledge regarding that sacred hope.
That's what a real man does.