The Aftermath of Rescue
Three Ways We Respond When God Saves Us
The story of Lot's escape from Sodom and Gomorrah is one we often celebrate as a powerful example of God's deliverance. We rejoice in the dramatic rescue—angels physically grabbing Lot and his family, pulling them from certain destruction. Fire and brimstone raining from heaven. A miraculous salvation from judgment.
But what happens after the rescue?
This is the question we rarely ask, yet it's perhaps the most relevant to our daily Christian walk. Most of us aren't waiting to be rescued from a city about to be destroyed by heavenly fire. But many of us have already been rescued—from addiction, from destructive relationships, from patterns of sin that were slowly destroying our lives. And in that aftermath, we face a critical choice about how we'll respond.
The continuation of Lot's story reveals three distinct responses to being rescued by God, and they serve as a mirror for our own souls.
But what happens after the rescue?
This is the question we rarely ask, yet it's perhaps the most relevant to our daily Christian walk. Most of us aren't waiting to be rescued from a city about to be destroyed by heavenly fire. But many of us have already been rescued—from addiction, from destructive relationships, from patterns of sin that were slowly destroying our lives. And in that aftermath, we face a critical choice about how we'll respond.
The continuation of Lot's story reveals three distinct responses to being rescued by God, and they serve as a mirror for our own souls.
The Backward Glance: Longing for What Destroyed Us
Lot's wife has become infamous for one action: she looked back. But this wasn't a casual glance over her shoulder, the way you might rubberneck at a car accident. The Hebrew word used here—*nabat*—means to look back with regard and longing. She didn't just see the city; she yearned for it.
Think about that for a moment. God had just rescued her from a place so wicked that He chose to destroy it completely. Yet her heart was still there, attached to the life she'd known, perhaps the comforts she'd enjoyed, the social standing she'd held.
The angels had given clear instructions: "Escape for your lives. Do not look back or stop anywhere in the valley." Yet she couldn't help herself. In the moment of her rescue, she was still emotionally and spiritually invested in the very thing that would have killed her.
She became a pillar of salt—a haunting image of someone frozen between two worlds, unable to fully embrace the salvation offered to her.
How often do we do the same? We've been rescued from destructive patterns, yet we find ourselves reminiscing about "the good old days" of our sin. We remember the temporary pleasure while conveniently forgetting the pain, the shame, the slow death it was bringing to our souls.
Jesus Himself warned about this: "Remember Lot's wife. Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will keep it" (Luke 17:32-33). Looking back with longing isn't just nostalgia—it's a rejection of the rescue itself.
Think about that for a moment. God had just rescued her from a place so wicked that He chose to destroy it completely. Yet her heart was still there, attached to the life she'd known, perhaps the comforts she'd enjoyed, the social standing she'd held.
The angels had given clear instructions: "Escape for your lives. Do not look back or stop anywhere in the valley." Yet she couldn't help herself. In the moment of her rescue, she was still emotionally and spiritually invested in the very thing that would have killed her.
She became a pillar of salt—a haunting image of someone frozen between two worlds, unable to fully embrace the salvation offered to her.
How often do we do the same? We've been rescued from destructive patterns, yet we find ourselves reminiscing about "the good old days" of our sin. We remember the temporary pleasure while conveniently forgetting the pain, the shame, the slow death it was bringing to our souls.
Jesus Himself warned about this: "Remember Lot's wife. Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will keep it" (Luke 17:32-33). Looking back with longing isn't just nostalgia—it's a rejection of the rescue itself.
The Forward Focus: Standing Where God Has Been
Abraham offers us a starkly different response. When destruction came to Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham went "early in the morning to the place where he had stood before the Lord" (Genesis 19:27).
This simple action reveals profound wisdom. When Abraham didn't know what to do, when he was processing the magnitude of what had happened, he returned to a place where he knew God had been. He went back to where he had encountered the Lord before.
This is the response of faith in times of uncertainty and fear. We don't have to forge new paths or figure everything out on our own. We can return to where we've met God before—in His Word, in worship, in the gathering of believers, in prayer.
Abraham looked down at the destruction, but not with longing. He saw it for what it was: the smoke of judgment rising like a furnace. He understood that God is both rescuer and judge, both merciful and just. His perspective was shaped not by what he'd lost, but by who God is.
The Psalms echo this response: "I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed" (Psalm 34:4-5).
When we've been rescued and don't know what comes next, the answer isn't to look back at where we've been or to forge ahead in our own strength. It's to stand where God has been faithful before and look to Him again.
This simple action reveals profound wisdom. When Abraham didn't know what to do, when he was processing the magnitude of what had happened, he returned to a place where he knew God had been. He went back to where he had encountered the Lord before.
This is the response of faith in times of uncertainty and fear. We don't have to forge new paths or figure everything out on our own. We can return to where we've met God before—in His Word, in worship, in the gathering of believers, in prayer.
Abraham looked down at the destruction, but not with longing. He saw it for what it was: the smoke of judgment rising like a furnace. He understood that God is both rescuer and judge, both merciful and just. His perspective was shaped not by what he'd lost, but by who God is.
The Psalms echo this response: "I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed" (Psalm 34:4-5).
When we've been rescued and don't know what comes next, the answer isn't to look back at where we've been or to forge ahead in our own strength. It's to stand where God has been faithful before and look to Him again.
The Fearful Retreat: Creating Our Own Plans
Lot's response falls somewhere between his wife's and Abraham's, but ultimately leads to tragedy. He ran to the city of Zoar as God had permitted, but fear overtook him. He fled to the hills—not out of obedience to God's original command, but out of terror.
Living in a cave with his daughters, isolated and afraid, Lot became a cautionary tale of what happens when we let fear rather than faith guide our post-rescue lives. He turned to alcohol to numb his pain. His daughters, raised in the wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah, responded to their fear with a plan so horrific it's difficult to read: they got their father drunk and committed incest with him to preserve their family line.
Their fear told them there were no other options, that they were alone, that desperate times called for desperate measures. They believed they were the last people on earth, even though they'd just come from a city that wasn't destroyed. Fear distorts our perception of reality.
The consequences were devastating. Their actions produced the Moabites and Ammonites—nations that would become perpetual enemies of Israel, obstacles to God's people for generations.
This is what happens when we respond to rescue with fear instead of faith. We hurt ourselves and others. We create problems that ripple through time. We turn to what we know—even when what we know is destructive—because the unknown feels more terrifying than familiar pain.
Proverbs 23 describes the cycle Lot fell into: "Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has strife?... Those who tarry long over wine... In the end, it bites like a serpent... When shall I awake? I must have another drink."
Living in a cave with his daughters, isolated and afraid, Lot became a cautionary tale of what happens when we let fear rather than faith guide our post-rescue lives. He turned to alcohol to numb his pain. His daughters, raised in the wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah, responded to their fear with a plan so horrific it's difficult to read: they got their father drunk and committed incest with him to preserve their family line.
Their fear told them there were no other options, that they were alone, that desperate times called for desperate measures. They believed they were the last people on earth, even though they'd just come from a city that wasn't destroyed. Fear distorts our perception of reality.
The consequences were devastating. Their actions produced the Moabites and Ammonites—nations that would become perpetual enemies of Israel, obstacles to God's people for generations.
This is what happens when we respond to rescue with fear instead of faith. We hurt ourselves and others. We create problems that ripple through time. We turn to what we know—even when what we know is destructive—because the unknown feels more terrifying than familiar pain.
Proverbs 23 describes the cycle Lot fell into: "Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has strife?... Those who tarry long over wine... In the end, it bites like a serpent... When shall I awake? I must have another drink."
Which Response Will You Choose?
If you're a follower of Christ, you've been rescued. God has delivered you from the ultimate destruction—eternal separation from Him. And if you've walked with Him for any length of time, He's likely rescued you from other things too: patterns of sin, destructive relationships, paths that were leading nowhere good.
The question isn't whether you've been rescued. The question is: How are you responding?
Are you looking back with longing at the life you used to live, the sins that once defined you, wishing somehow you could return?
Are you standing where God has been, returning to His presence, His Word, His people, trusting Him with the uncertain future?
Or are you responding out of fear, creating your own plans, turning to familiar comforts that numb the pain but don't heal it?
God's Word is clear: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:6-7).
The aftermath of rescue is just as important as the rescue itself. God doesn't pull us from destruction just to leave us wandering in fear or longing for our former chains. He rescues us for relationship, for purpose, for transformation.
Stand where He has been. Look to Him. He is faithful, and He will guide you forward—not back to destruction, not into fear-driven mistakes, but into the life He's prepared for you.
The choice, as it was for Lot's family and for Abraham, is yours.
The question isn't whether you've been rescued. The question is: How are you responding?
Are you looking back with longing at the life you used to live, the sins that once defined you, wishing somehow you could return?
Are you standing where God has been, returning to His presence, His Word, His people, trusting Him with the uncertain future?
Or are you responding out of fear, creating your own plans, turning to familiar comforts that numb the pain but don't heal it?
God's Word is clear: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:6-7).
The aftermath of rescue is just as important as the rescue itself. God doesn't pull us from destruction just to leave us wandering in fear or longing for our former chains. He rescues us for relationship, for purpose, for transformation.
Stand where He has been. Look to Him. He is faithful, and He will guide you forward—not back to destruction, not into fear-driven mistakes, but into the life He's prepared for you.
The choice, as it was for Lot's family and for Abraham, is yours.
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