Dr Garvin Heer­ah

In mil­i­tary op­er­a­tions, “Ad­vent” would be the co­de­name for a de­ploy­ment un­like any oth­er. The word it­self means “com­ing,” and in this sea­son, we com­mem­o­rate the great­est di­vine in­ser­tion in hu­man his­to­ry, the com­ing of the Son of God in­to a bro­ken world. Je­sus Christ ar­rived not as an ob­serv­er, not as a pas­sive on­look­er, but as a ful­ly com­mit­ted Op­er­a­tor on a sin­gu­lar mis­sion. Luke 19:10 is­sues His man­date with tac­ti­cal clar­i­ty, “The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” Ad­vent is a re­minder that Heav­en launched a full-scale Search and Res­cue (SAR) op­er­a­tion, and Je­sus was its Com­man­der, Pi­lot, and Res­cuer.

Dur­ing my years in the De­fence Force, par­tic­u­lar­ly in the Coast Guard and as part of air­crew op­er­a­tions, SAR was more than a du­ty; it was a sa­cred trust. When that SAR alarm sound­ed, fail­ure was not an op­tion. Vis­i­bil­i­ty may have been poor, the sea state rough, weath­er un­friend­ly, and the co­or­di­nates un­cer­tain. Yet once a life was at risk, every­thing was mo­bilised: air­craft, ves­sels, per­son­nel, and train­ing. We searched re­lent­less­ly, be­cause some­one’s sur­vival de­pend­ed on it. We res­cued de­ci­sive­ly, be­cause hes­i­ta­tion costs lives.

This Ad­vent, that same pos­ture is re­quired, not from a mil­i­tary unit, but from every be­liev­er. The mis­sion is spir­i­tu­al, emo­tion­al, re­la­tion­al, and deeply hu­man. The ca­su­al­ties are not bod­ies adrift at sea, but hearts adrift in life. The dis­tress sig­nals are not flare guns, but silent strug­gles in in­di­vid­u­als and fam­i­lies across our na­tion. The SOS of life. The Com­man­der’s in­tent is un­mis­tak­able: Search for the lost. Res­cue the hurt­ing. Bring hope to the wound­ed. Re­store the bro­ken.

So, en­gage ful­ly in Christ’s Search and Res­cue mis­sion this Christ­mas by seek­ing out those who are hurt­ing, iso­lat­ed, dis­cour­aged, or drift­ing, then mov­ing with com­pas­sion, courage, and in­ten­tion­al­i­ty to bring them love, sup­port, restora­tion, and hope.

We live in a world where peo­ple are qui­et­ly drown­ing be­hind strong faces. Many are bat­tling grief, eco­nom­ic pres­sure, frac­tured re­la­tion­ships, de­pres­sion, lone­li­ness, or un­cer­tain­ty about the fu­ture. Oth­ers are spir­i­tu­al­ly ex­haust­ed, adrift from God, faith, and pur­pose.

As in any SAR op­er­a­tion, the dan­ger is not on­ly the storm; it is al­so the de­lay. Too of­ten, we as­sume some­one else will re­spond, some­one else will call, some­one else will reach out. But the truth re­mains, if we don’t search, they may not be found. If we don’t act, hope may not reach them in time.

A SAR crew does not wait for per­fect con­di­tions. They launch be­cause some­one needs res­cue. This sea­son, scan your en­vi­ron­ment, your fam­i­ly, work­place, church, and com­mu­ni­ty. Who is miss­ing? Who has gone silent? Who is car­ry­ing in­vis­i­ble bur­dens? Lift your eyes from the busy­ness and scan the emo­tion­al radar. Ask God to give you co­or­di­nates for some­one who needs you to show up.

The first step in res­cue is aware­ness.

A sig­nif­i­cant part of Ad­vent SAR is re­la­tion­al restora­tion. Some re­la­tion­ships in our lives are like a ves­sel with me­chan­i­cal fail­ure, tak­ing in wa­ter, adrift, un­steered, and de­te­ri­o­rat­ing. Pride of­ten grounds us, but hu­mil­i­ty gets the en­gines turn­ing again. This sea­son, ini­ti­ate the hard con­ver­sa­tion. Of­fer for­give­ness. Seek rec­on­cil­i­a­tion. Even if full restora­tion is not pos­si­ble, the ef­fort it­self is a res­cue op­er­a­tion for the soul.

Fix­ing doesn’t make you weak, it proves you’re still mis­sion-ready.

Every SAR crew knows that morale mat­ters. The tone of the res­cuer in­flu­ences the strength of the res­cued. When we share joy, gen­uine, un­forced, Christ-cen­tred joy, we lift the at­mos­phere around us. When we share love, not sen­ti­men­tal­ly, but sac­ri­fi­cial, de­lib­er­ate kind­ness, we bring the pres­ence of Christ in­to re­al-life sit­u­a­tions.

Joy sta­bilis­es the heart.

Love an­chors the spir­it.

Both are life­jack­ets in a world sink­ing un­der pres­sure.A re­al SAR mis­sion al­ways ends with hu­man con­tact, hands pulling some­one from dan­ger. Ad­vent calls us to do the same. It may be a Christ­mas meal for a strug­gling fam­i­ly, a vis­it to some­one el­der­ly and alone, a mes­sage of en­cour­age­ment, a fi­nan­cial bless­ing, or sim­ply qual­i­ty time with some­one who needs to feel seen. Ask the Lord to show you one life, one fam­i­ly, one sit­u­a­tion, then car­ry out the res­cue.

Small ac­tions can change a life’s tra­jec­to­ry.

Christ­mas has drift­ed in­to a self-cen­tred sea­son of shop­ping, spend­ing, and per­son­al com­fort. But the orig­i­nal Ad­vent mis­sion was out­ward-fac­ing. Christ left Heav­en not for Him­self but for us. This year, adopt that same op­er­a­tional mind­set. Let this be the year you de-pri­ori­tise self and re-pri­ori­tise ser­vice. The year you move from re­ceiv­ing to res­cu­ing. The year you ask not “What will I get?” but “Lord, whom can I save?”

As we move in­to this Ad­vent sea­son, may you take your place on the spir­i­tu­al SAR team with readi­ness and courage. Launch your search with com­pas­sion. Con­duct your res­cue with love. Let your faith be your nav­i­ga­tion sys­tem, your hope be your fu­el, and the Holy Spir­it be your air­borne com­mand.

This sea­son, some­one needs you.

Some­one’s sig­nal flare is go­ing un­no­ticed.

Some­one’s heart is drift­ing.

Some­one is pray­ing for a res­cuer.

Let Christ work through you.

Ad­vent is here, so de­ploy.

(Ded­i­cat­ed to all fel­low mem­bers of the TTDF 1 air­crew and en­gi­neer­ing crew. Thank you for your ded­i­ca­tion to coun­try and ser­vice be­fore self)