Allow me to act as a diagnostician for our cultural cohort, coming off a wild Easter season: we are virtually punch-drunk (def: dazed, stupefied). Our pastors worked overtime to distill their Easter service message for the Resurrection crowd, while our president produced his own R-rated media blast to stun the world. In the meantime, something epic was underway…

            An American F-15 fighter jet was shot down over hostile territory in Iran. Both crew members ejected. One was recovered quickly; the other was not. Injured, he activated his worst-case training and moved to elude the enemy search for him. For two days, he climbed to high-ground and slid into a mountain crevice, with no idea what was going to unfold. Would he be a casualty, or a cause?

            Half a world away – at CENTCOM – the decision was made: we’re going to find him and get him out of there. That directive set in motion an initiative that demonstrated adherence to an underlying conviction that defines American military values: we don’t leave anyone behind.

            The United States launched a massive rescue operation – scores of aircraft, special operations forces, air cover – all coordinated in contested airspace. Pilots flew into harm’s way; teams went in on the ground. Intelligence operations created false-flag deceptions that kept the Iranians confused and diverted. Everyone involved knew the risks but kept their focus on the mission.

            What is one life worth? Ask a machine that question, and the calculation – based on predicted longevity, average annual income production, value to the economy through consumer consumption – will produce a tangible answer. Cost/benefit considerations will follow. The choice to expend hundreds of millions of dollars to return one missing serviceman to his family would be dead on arrival.

            Easter morning, that amazing rescue was one of the headlines. That successful initiative offered a break from the bickering that has come to characterize our national conversations: Hallmark couldn’t compete with that real-life victory that played out in Iran.

            The historic rescue that was celebrated by billions of people – in hundreds of countries and thousands of languages – on Easter morning had even more drama attached. The headlines of Heaven continue to report from the outpost on Earth the most epic and heroic intervention ever imagined.

            Instead of the forces of America focusing on one lost person, the forces of God’s Kingdom were focused on one lost race – humanity – who had ejected from Eden and landed in sin, with no chance of survival in the territory under the control of the god of this world. What hope could people have for restoration to what they (we) had lost?

            Talk about a plot-line that would never find its way to Hollywood’s screens: the human race would be the rescue target of God’s overwhelming power. What would His strategy be?

            Send in overwhelming angelic troops to completely destroy the opposition? Part the skies to reveal the awesomeness of the Almighty to quench the rebellion and restore order? What would the whiteboards of God’s situation room propose as the ultimate intervention?

            Here’s the show-stopper: the Commander in Chief – King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Creator and Sustainer of all that is – will land on the planet in deep cover. A lifetime of maturation and preparation for the once-in-history weekend when death/burial/resurrection would create the divine solution to the eternal sentence that left every human with no hope of resolution.

            Don’t leave the scenes from Easter without doing the shout-out for both astounding moments. The human victory that brought one downed airman home to his family, and the supernatural victory that brought one lost race home to God’s family. Both raise shouts of “Hallelujah!”

            The Resurrection Rescue has been offered to all; the invitation to be evacuated is still extended to people who are still unsaved. Will they get out safely? That’s up to us…

— Bob Shank