Lynnette and Josh had been looking forward to this dinner with their friends for months. Picture an evening with two couples at a swanky restaurant. Swanky enough, it required a reservation three months in advance.
With babysitters watching the kids, this had all the markings of a splendid evening for both couples. Then the guy sitting at a table across the room quietly keeled over.
No one seemed alarmed. Which—to Josh and Lynnette—was very alarming.
Eventually, a lady walked from table to table, asking if someone was a doctor. But she spoke softly, hardly above a whisper. It was as if she did not want to cause a scene or interrupt, even though a man seemed to be in trouble.
Servers attempted the Heimlich maneuver. But the guy was large enough that there were not enough men to hold him in place.
As Josh pulled out his phone to call 9-1-1, someone mentioned an ambulance was on the way. Eventually, someone started doing chest compressions until the medics arrived.
For the entire duration of this drama, no one spoke above a whisper. Not the family. Not the diners. Not the staff.
Lynnette recalls, "You could see panic in people's eyes, but nobody yelled. Nobody demanded help. Nobody spoke out. A man was choking—and maybe dying! It was the most horrific scene ever."
Does that sound familiar? It should.
The truth is, you and I are reliving that drama every time we pass by lost people—people who need Jesus—but say nothing about Christ. Their lives are in peril, but we are either too distracted or too embarrassed to say or do anything more than whisper.
How is it we can verbally spar over politics, shout at football games, but remain silent when others are literally walking toward hell? Our silence is deafening!
