Serving the Lord and the local church through puppets, ventriloquism, chalk art, vocal and instrumental music and old fashioned Bible preaching. The Solid Rock
C h a l k   A r t

The Solid Rock

Away on the western coast of England stands a steep rock that is known to everybody as the lady's rock. At high water it is surrounded by the sea. But at low water it stands upon a sandy beach and is easily reached. It gets the name from an accident that occurred years ago. One summer day a lady had walked along the beach as far as this rock, and there sat down and began to read a book that interested her.

She read on never thinking of any danger, when she was suddenly startled by a loud cry from the cliffs. The coast guard had seen her, and had shouted across the bay. She looked up, and in a moment saw her peril. Between herself and the shore there were curling waves. Her first look showed her nothing but certain death, for the waves were rising every moment, and as she stood hesitating a huge breaker dashed its spray over her. Above her frowned the steep black rock that even the fisher lads could scarcely climb to get the sea bird's eggs. There seemed to be no way of escape there. She looked across to the crowd that was gathering on the shore, but no boat could live in that tumbling sea.

Then as she stood, with the waves creeping up after her, like the wild beasts that chase their pray, she wrung her hands in agony and burst into tears crying "Can I be saved? Can I be saved?"
A moment before it was nothing to her. Now it was everything! Wealth, luxury, comfort, pleasure, all thought of these was swept away! Her only anxiety was this, "Oh, to be saved!"

Then from the shore came the cry of the coast guard again: " You must climb the rock! Your only chance is to climb the rock!"

She looked at it, hanging over her with jagged sides and steep slippery front. How could she climb it? But as she delayed, a wave swept up and flung itself over the place where she stood, and close below her the water surged and hissed.

Then she grasped the rock desperately, and dragged herself up and hung to the face of it trembling, feeling for a higher foothold, and rising little by little until she reached a ledge from which she could look shuddering on the waves below. The tide crept upward until again the spray flew about her.

"Climb higher!" rang from the shore, this time from a hundred voices, for the tidings of her peril had spread to the adjoining village. Again she gathered her strength, and hardly knowing how, she crept, little by little, hanging on with bleeding fingers, dragging herself through narrow openings, pressing up the steep slippery places, until now within her reach lay a tuft of grass. Seizing it, she fell fainting on the top, beyond the reach of the waves, while the excited people cried with a shout "She's saved! Thank Heaven, she's saved!"

A story, wild and strange, just like the coast. And yet is true of every life, true of you!
Slowly, eternity is chasing you from point to point. Death is rising about you, and yet you are unmindful of it. Taken up with a hundred things you do not see it! It is the last thing you think of. You have time for everything else! You can think of business, of pleasure, of politics, of markets, of friendships, of everything else but your soul. And yet, the time is coming when you will see the peril, when your own eyes will look upon the threatening danger, and all of these things of the day will be nothing. Suddenly, all in a moment, you will start up with the cry, " What must I do to be saved?" And it may be too late!