The Choice

Imagine you are on a ship. It’s large and luxurious, plush and full of elegance and beauty. You are very safe, very comfortable. You feel confident here.

Now, imagine someone comes to you and says, “This ship is on fire! You need to get off!”

There are so many features on board to protect the passengers, you think. I haven’t heard any sort of alarm. No one else seems concerned. I’m sure this person is crazy. You shoo the person away.

The person comes back an hour later, eyes full of concern, and says, “The fire is spreading. You need to get off this ship! Come with me!”

You resist. Why should I run? you think. I hear no alarm. I don’t feel any heat. I don’t see anyone else I know running. This person is foolish. Again, you dismiss the person.

For a third time, the person comes back and pleads with you, “I know you don’t understand. Just let me show you. I can help you!”

You're irritated. “Look,” you say firmly, “leave me alone. I am fine where I’m at. I don’t need to do anything. I am perfectly safe. Please go away!”

With a sad, downhearted expression, the person walks away and softly whispers, “the choice is yours."

About thirty minutes later, you feel a large explosion rock the ship. Terror sweeps over you, temporarily paralyzing you in fear. Another large explosion bursts, much closer this time, so close you are knocked over and your ears are pierced with a loud ringing. Black, acrid smoke begins wafting