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    The music also reminds me of the strange feeling I had while watching the movie. At times, I could see myself entering certain scenes. While in the scene I would stand among the people, get in their face and say, “Hey, you’re on the Titanic! See? It’s April 14, 1912. Look, the name of this ship is clearly displayed in several places on the vessel. See? T-I-T-A-N-I-C. I know, I know—the word is that this is an unsinkable vessel. They joke and say, ‘Even God couldn't sink this ship.’ But this ship will hit an iceberg tonight. It’s going down. There aren’t nearly enough life boats and most of you have only a few hours to live. Hours! Do whatever you need to do to get ready for that.” I’d catch myself just short of singing, Just as I am. But, of course, I couldn’t reach them. Like a crazy dream, I was right there. I could see the people. Hear them talking. But they couldn’t see or hear me.

    And tonight, as the music plays, I think, “Hey, we’re all on the Titanic.” We’re on earth—a doomed vessel. It’s going down in fire, not water. It could happen any day now—these are the last days. And even if earth should outlast us, we all have an appointment with death. “For... [our days]...quickly pass and we fly away.” (Psalm 90)

    Right now, as the CD spins, Celine Dion is singing Titanic’s exquisite theme, My Heart Will Go On. In my midnight thoughts this title is appropriate. Yes, we will go on. Death isn’t the end. Christians will spend eternity with God. What a promise.

    I don’t want to be morbid but we’re all sinking. And the question for everyone is, “Are we ready? Ready for the end? Of the world? Our lives?” These are the most important question we’ll ever answer. I hope that we, washed in the blood of Jesus, can answer, “Yes, I’m ready.” And while we’re at it, shouldn’t we warn others that earth is a sinking ship? Shouldn’t we tell them the Good News?

    But back to the movie. As the credits rolled, I noticed there was an oversight. A huge oversight. The pivotal role in the movie was the iceberg. And it wasn’t even mentioned in the credits—or at the Academy Awards ceremony. But without the iceberg, the big boat would have had an uneventful maiden voyage. There would have been no night to remember. No movie.

We’re on earth—a doomed vessel.

    Maybe there would have been a Rose and Jack. But after their arrival in America, they would have seen each other for a few weeks only to discover that their relationship was two miles wide and one inch deep. The glow would quickly wear off the passionate love-boat thing and they would have gone their separate ways, never to see, or think, of each other for the rest of their lives.

    It probably would have gone like this: On the rebound, Rose wheedled her way back to What’s His Name, the irksome, pretentious guy with plenty of old money. Jack wound up married to a poor woman; pretty—in her plain way. He drove a delivery truck for a small manufacturing firm in New York City until his retirement. Finally, surrounded by his wife, children and grandchildren, he died—warm and in his bed—at age ninety.

    Both Rose and What’s His Name would be killed together on their honeymoon/safari in Lower Zamgucci. As the story goes, a rogue elephant charged through their camp in the middle of the night, trampling the tent in which they were sleeping.

    See what I mean? No ‘berg. No movie.

    The thought about the unappreciated iceberg brings me to another legitimate point that has to do with some iceberg trivia. In my hours of serious research getting ready to write this column, I learned a lot about icebergs. My research shows that icebergs, after breaking off the polar ice caps, often move in different directions. How do you explain this unusual iceberg behavior?

    Well, scientists who care about this sort of thing tell us the small icebergs are moved by the prevailing winds. They skitter along like sailboats. Large icebergs, on the other hand, are moved by the strong, steady ocean currents. The wind doesn’t effect their behavior.

    In this way, icebergs are a lot like people. Some folks—Christians, even—are like the small icebergs. They are shallow runners, driven by the winds of change, temptations and life’s troubles. They are easily blown off course and life tosses them back and forth. Other people are like the large ’bergs—they run deep and are carried along by the deep substantial currents. Life’s temptations and troubles do not shove them off course.

    So what’s this all about? Just this: will we be small, light and immature, letting life’s prevailing winds blow us around? Or will we sink ourselves deeply in the steady current of God’s love and his Word and be led by the Father? It’s our call.

    We know Titanic, The Movie will have no sequel, no Titanic II. Because, like life, when it’s over it’s over. The Bible says, “[We] are destined to die once and after that to face judgment.”(Hebrews 9)

    The bad news is this: We’re all on a sinking ship. The good news is that Christ died to redeem everyone. There are plenty of lifeboats. The question is–will we climb in?