Read

James 5:19-20 "My brothers and sisters, if one of you should wander from the truth and someone should bring that person back, remember this: Whoever turns a sinner from the error of their way will save them from death and cover over a multitude of sins."

Think

A friend and I were fishing at dusk off the coast in a sixteen-foot boat in the Atlantic. The sun was going down, the water was getting choppy, and we were about to call it a night. Then we saw him. A man in the water. He was not swimming. He was drowning. A fishing net had gotten tangled around his boots and pulled him overboard. He was six-foot-seven, three hundred and thirty pounds, and he was going under.

We got to him as fast as we could. But pulling a man that size out of the Atlantic Ocean into a sixteen-foot boat is not a simple operation. My friend and I grabbed him and hauled with everything we had. The boat was rocking. The water was coming over the side. There was nothing elegant about it. It was raw, physical, exhausting work. We finally got him in. He lay on the floor of the boat, gasping for air, and I remember thinking: if we had not been right there at that moment, he would be dead.

James writes, "and someone should bring that person back." That word "someone" is doing a lot of work in this verse. It does not say "a pastor should bring that person back." It does not say "a trained counselor should bring that person back." It says someone. Anyone. Whoever is close enough to see the person going under. The responsibility for rescue does not belong to a professional class of Christians. It belongs to whoever is in the boat.

I think about another scene I witnessed later that evening at a marina nearby. A couple was standing on the bow of a beautiful boat. They were smiling and waving, enjoying the evening, without a care in the world. And I felt God speak to my spirit in that moment: "That is a picture of so many Christians." Comfortable on the boat. Enjoying the view. Celebrating the good life. While somewhere nearby, someone is drowning.

The comfortable position is always the boat. The uncomfortable position is the water. Rescue requires you to leave the comfort of the bow and get into the mess. It means risking your own stability to grab hold of someone who is flailing. It means your boat might take on water. Your clothes might get soaked. Your evening plans might get ruined. But the alternative is watching someone drown while you wave from the deck.

"Someone should bring that person back." That phrase "bring back" carries the idea of turning someone around, of reversing their direction. It is an active verb. It requires effort. The drowning man in the Atlantic did not save himself. He could not. His boots were tangled, his strength was gone, and the current was pulling him down. Someone had to go to him. Someone had to grab hold of him. Someone had to do the exhausting, unglamorous, physically demanding work of hauling him out of the water and into the boat.

That is what spiritual rescue looks like. It is not neat. It is not always appreciated in the moment. The person you are trying to help may resist. They may not see themselves as drowning. They may resent the intervention. But James does not qualify the instruction with "if they want to be rescued." He simply says bring them back. Period.

Here is the deal. Most of us are not cruel. We do not actively want people to drown. Our problem is passivity. We see the signs. We notice someone pulling away. We hear about a marriage falling apart or a friend spiralling into addiction. And we think, "That is none of my business." Or worse, we think, "Someone else will handle it." The couple on the bow of the boat were not bad people. They were not trying to ignore anyone. They were simply enjoying their own comfort so much that they were oblivious to the crisis in the water.

Rescue costs something. When my friend and I pulled that man into our boat, we were spent. Our arms ached. The boat nearly swamped. We could have capsized. But the cost of rescue is always less than the cost of inaction. A swamped boat can be bailed out. A tired body recovers. But a life lost to the current does not come back.

James places the responsibility for rescue on the community of faith. Not on the person who is drowning. The wanderer in verse nineteen may not have the strength or the clarity to turn themselves around. That is why God put you in the boat. That is why he put you close enough to see the struggle. Not so you could wave from the deck, but so you could jump in.

My friend and I did not discuss whether to help. We did not form a committee. We did not wait to see if someone more qualified would show up. We saw a man drowning and we moved. That is the urgency James is calling the church to. Someone near you is going under. Stop waving. Start pulling.

Apply

Get in the water – Rescue is uncomfortable by design. Identify one person who is struggling spiritually and take a concrete step toward them this week. A meal together, an honest conversation, a commitment to walk alongside them. Leave the comfort of the bow.

Pray

God, forgive me for the times I have stayed comfortable in the boat while people around me were drowning. Give me the eyes to see who is going under and the courage to reach for them. I know rescue is costly. I know it is messy. But I would rather have a swamped boat than a clear conscience that ignored someone in need. In Jesus’ name. Amen.