160 MINUTES: The Peril of Indifference in Perilous Times

On April 14th, 1912, Frederick Fleet – the lookout – was standing atop the crow’s nest, approximately 95 feet up in the air, with his eyes faithfully scanning the dark and frigid waters of the North Atlantic Ocean. At 11:39pm he spotted the unimaginable. Although he knew it was too late, he immediately rang the lookout bell three times, to signal danger, then picked up the phone to call the bridge and warn them: “Iceberg right ahead!” But it was too late. At 11:40pm, 37 seconds later, the RMS Titanic collided with that iceberg. At approximately 2:20am the next morning, the stern of the “unsinkable” Titanic disappeared beneath the icy waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

The aftermath of the tragedy was horrifying; over 1500 “souls” – as a ship captain would say – perished that night. Approximately 710 survived. Here is what a few of them had to say …

Surviving passenger J. Bruce Ismay recalled the scene this way: “One of the most ghastly features of the whole thing was the way those sounds rang out in the stillness of the night. The sight of people clinging to bits of wreckage, imploring help, but with no possible chance of getting it, was awful. The cries were like nothing I’ve ever heard before and hope never to hear again.”

It appeared to seven-year-old passenger Eva Hart like this: “The worst thing I can remember are the screams … the cries for help. It was awful.”

Seventeen-year-old passenger Jack Thayer said the cries “sounded like locusts on a midsummer night, a continuous wailing chant.”

And for second-class passenger Charlotte Collyer, the memories were all too vivid: “It was very dark and we were drifting. All around us we could hear the groans and cries of drowning people. The stars above looked down pitilessly on what was left of the greatest ship in the world. I wanted to die.”

The time taken between when the iceberg was struck, at 11:40pm, till the stern disappeared beneath the frigid waters of the Atlantic, at 2:20am: 160 MINUTES!

The fate of every man, woman, and child on that ship would be decided in the span of 160 minutes. Would that be enough time for the crew to warn over 2200 passengers? Would those who heard the warnings take them seriously? Or would they remember what everyone had said – “the Titanic is unsinkable” – and carry on with their laughter and games? Would 160 minutes be enough time for a mother and father with two young children to gather the family, essential supplies, and find a rescue boat with enough room for all four of them? Or would they end up having to make some very difficult decisions? Would men choose to be heroes during their 160 minutes? Or cowards? Everything hinged on what 2224 people would do, with their 160 minutes!

As he reflected on that night afterward, Jack Thayer described those 160 minutes as a “fleeting moment.” Another passenger said that the chaos that was all around “left little room for realizing just how swiftly those moments were slipping away.”

Did you hear those words? Fleeting moments – were slipping away!”

My friend, if you have read, and claim to believe, the same story I have, then you are currently – right now, as you are reading this – living in your 160 minutes! The iceberg has been struck; humanity has rebelled against its Creator. Like that eerie moment, when the stern of the mighty ship finally disappeared, and it was too late for the 1500 souls trapped inside, the Day of Judgment for this great mutiny will be here in just a few moments; and when the Great Judge declares that court is in session – it will be too late! Like that perilous night, countless souls will sink down into the darkness.

The Scriptures say that all men sit under the “shadow of death” (Matthew 4:16). Even if they are unaware, death is looming over them at all times, like the boogie man in the night, waiting to seize its prey! And when that day comes – when some unexpected circumstance of life causes them to breathe their last breath, it will be too late; the Judge will be awaiting them in the courtroom! But, unlike that tragic night, their sentence will be eternal; the agony and the screams will have no end.

If you claim to be a “believer” then you are professing that this story is in fact the imminent reality of your life. You are claiming to be on a sinking ship, with a lifejacket – the blood of Jesus – snug around your neck, and a rescue boat on standby. So now there is only one relevant question; What will you do with the remainder of your 160 minutes? The stern has not disappeared yet. The clock is ticking. Precious moments are slipping away! There are countless confused and scared souls still aboard this ship – with no idea where to find a rescue boat. What will you do?

How you spend these few remaining minutes will be the evidence of whether or not that lifejacket you think you’re wearing will actually save you – whether or not that rescue boat will be waiting for you when you arrive!

As you bask in the beauty, and goodness, and security of that lifejacket you profess to have around your neck, will you refuse to look out over the railing of this ship, and see the vast number of souls already screaming and flailing in the dark Atlantic waters? Their fear and suffering have already begun; yet they have no idea of the horror that awaits them when they breathe that final breath – and find out the boogie man is real; when they find themselves sinking down into a dark and lonely abyss that has no bottom.

What will you do? Will you spend your 160 minutes tossing lifejackets to those scared souls? Or will you say a prayer of gratitude for the lifejacket you were given, and then head back into the main lounge so you can catch a few more minutes of entertainment before everyone gets wet? There is a type of person who uses their remaining minutes to enjoy the entertainment and luxuries of the ship – while the ship itself is sinking. Here is how the survivors described those people …

“Some of the passengers were dancing and laughing in the main dining saloon, utterly unconscious of their peril.” – Jack Thayer

“There was no panic, no one seemed particularly alarmed, and many passengers were playing cards and other games in the public rooms, quite indifferent to the situation.” –Charlotte Collyer

“People were still having a good time in the lounges and smoking rooms, and many refused to believe that the ship was in danger.” – Eva Hart

They were laughing, and dancing, and playing games during their 160 minutes! Why? Eva Hart gave us the answer: because they did not believe that the ship was sinking! What they were doing with their time was the clear and obvious evidence of what they believed! Young Eva had no idea how much truth and power her words contained: Those who played games and entertained themselves with their 160 minutes were … “unbelievers!”

I suppose there is one other type of person we should mention; Jack Thayer describes them when he tells how he watched a “partially filled” rescue boat speed away while he clung to a piece of wreckage in the icy Atlantic waters …

“Why on Earth they never came back is a mystery. How could any human being fail to heed those cries?”

I think we all know the answer to Jack’s question: They were cowards!

Now, in 1912 the cowards were able to speed away into the night. But how does our story end? Does the Great Author let the cowards speed away into eternal bliss? Will those who sipped drinks on the deck, while watching people drown, have a boat waiting for them when they get there? For those who have ears to hear, the Author tells us how the story ends…

“The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son. But as for the cowardly … their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.” Revelation 21:7–8

There you have it! The Divine Writer wrote the only appropriate ending there could be; the cowards will be swimming with the unbelievers for all eternity. And who is the unbeliever? The one whose “belief” does not produce corresponding works.

My friend, now is the time for us to ask ourselves the questions that matter; Does the response of my life – my 160 minutes – correspond to the story I profess to believe? Does my life reflect an “appropriate” response to the magnitude of the story? Is this lifejacket as snug as I think it is?