expect the (un)expected

On Friday night I was invited to go to the Amazon jungle in Ecuador on an eleven-day trip to visit the Waodani people, the indigenous Indian tribe made famous for killing Christian missionaries in 1956. To say this was unexpected is an understatement.

Late that night, I began to dig into the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s The Cost of Discipleship, a book that slices to the core of “following Jesus.” While searching for clarity on this opportunity, which at first glance, appeared impossible, I reasoned, “There is work to be done, meetings to attend to, plans to make and bills to pay.”

But Bonhoeffer, a positively-subversive Christian who was martyred at the hands of Hitler’s Nazi forces at the end of WWII, wrote clearly on the summoning of Levi (Mark 2:14) and Peter, on Jesus’ famous calling, “Come, follow me.”

“So long as Levi sits at the receipt of custom, and Peter at his nets, they could both pursue their trade honestly and dutifully, and they might both enjoy religious experiences, old and new. But if they want to believe in God, the only way is to follow his incarnate Son.

Until that day, everything had been different. They could remain in obscurity, pursuing their work as the quiet in the land, observing the law and waiting for the coming of the Messiah.

But now he has come, and his call goes forth.

Faith can no longer mean sitting still and waiting—they must rise and follow him. The call frees them from all earthly ties, and binds them to Jesus Christ alone. They must burn their boats and plunge into absolute insecurity in order to learn the demand and the gift of Christ. Had Levi stayed at his post, Jesus might have been his present help in trouble, but not the Lord of his whole life.

Peter had to leave the ship and risk his life on the sea, in order to learn both his own weakness and the almighty power of his Lord. If Peter had not taken the risk, he would never have learnt the meaning of faith.”

Bonhoeffer’s writing resonated strongly with my heart, partnered with spiritual stirrings of late and piecing together the events of the past few months. This morning, a good friend wrote, “Since I first heard about [the trip], it's had the aroma of God with it.”

Last Tuesday night I had the privilege to lead worship for our church community, wondering aloud what God will do with open people, “living sacrifices” willing to be consumed by God in every facet of our lives. My dad joked that we should be careful what we ask for, and I agree (James 5:12, Matthew 5:36). Before bed that night I scratched a phrase on a piece of paper, “Lord, enlarge the territories of our hearts.”

Days before, I had written a song while resting on the Sabbath about the freedom that is ours in Christ, expressed eloquently by the Apostle Paul in Galatians 5. The lyrics to ‘Rhythms of Your Love’ are:

It’s for freedom
That Christ has set us free

Holy God, give us sight
Give us ears to hear Your still strong voice
Holy God, fill us up
Keep us moving to the rhythms of Your love

So we won’t be burdened now
By the yoke of slavery
It’s for freedom
That Christ has set us free

So we’ll love each other now
Break the chains of slavery
It’s for freedom
That Christ has set us free

Lord, soften our hearts
Lord, open our eyes
Give us ears to hear
And hearts that understand

I just booked my flight. On Sunday, we’ll drive to Chicago and fly to Ecuador on Monday. On Wednesday, we’ll board three Cessna planes that will take thirteen of us deep into the Amazon jungle, where we’ll travel by hollowed-out canoes down the river to our team village.

We’ll be spending five days living with and encouraging the leaders of the Waodani church. My primary role is storytelling through video, photography and writing, and whatever unknowns God has in his queue. We’ll return to the U.S. on January 30.

Thank you for your prayers for the movement and protection of God on the trip.