As a child I lived in New York City and there was no greater thrill than to spend a day at Jones Beach out on Long Island. It didn't matter that it was crowded or even that the temperature was hovering at the one hundred degree mark, there was no place that I would rather have been on a hot summer's day.

When I arrived at the beach with my parents, we found that a great multitude had also sought to escape from the city that day. The wonderful white sand was covered with men, women and children of all ages. Thousands of brightly colored umbrellas stretched as far as the eye could see. From an airplane, the beach must have looked like a patchwork quilt with the patterned umbrellas nestled so closely together. I can remember making our way through the crowd searching for a little patch of beach that we could claim as our own. Finally we found a space where we could open our umbrella and spread out our towels upon the sand.

As I started toward the water, my mother called after me, "Be sure you only wade along the edge of the beach. Daddy and I will take you in the deep water later for a swim," she promised. "Take a good look at our umbrella so you can find your way back to it without any trouble."

"Blue and white stripes with bright yellow fringe, blue and white stripes with bright yellow fringe," I repeated to myself as I walked toward the ocean with my little bucket in my hand. Maybe I would find some seashells.

I really don't know how long I waded there in the shallow water, but it was long enough to accumulate quite a collection of shells. Anxious to show my mother all my treasures, I looked out across the sea of umbrellas to find the one with blue and white stripes and bright yellow fringe. But everywhere I looked there were blue and white umbrellas. There were hundreds of them on the beach, maybe even thousands. I began to wander through the crowd seeking my umbrella and my parents, but they were nowhere to be found. For what seemed like hours, I walked along the beach searching. The tears began to flow as I became even more confused and addled. I visited dozens of blue and white umbrellas, but to no avail. I was lost! Very lost!

And then I saw the lifeguard stand. What a humbling experience it was for me to go to the lifeguard and ask for his help. Going to the lifeguard meant admitting that I was lost and that I desperately needed his assistance, but I had no choice. It had become obvious that I was never going to find my way safely back on my own. I can vividly recall going to the foot of his tall stand and calling up to the lifeguard. "Please help me! I'm lost! I can't find my parents."

How very kind and gentle the lifeguard was. Reaching down and taking my hand, he pulled me up until I was right next to him. "Now you just step up here on top of my chair, little lady," he instructed me. And when I was standing in place, he blew his whistle. Within minutes my father was there to claim me and take me back to the safety of our umbrella. I'll never forget how he wrapped me in his arms and hugged me that summer day when I was found.

Jesus is our Lifeguard and our Lifesaver. We have a choice of wandering around aimlessly, confused, without purpose and hopelessly lost, or we can humble ourselves and look to Him for salvation and help. His greatest desire is to see us reunited with our Heavenly Father and if we just ask, He will help us to find our way back to our Father's waiting arms.