I was prepared for the World Race, or so I thought…
For months prior to Launch I trained like Rocky Balboa in Siberia. I watched videos of Bear Grylls drinking his own pee, and I took several Army Special Forces courses on Southeast Asian linguistic patterns. I molded my mind to become the next Rambo/Billy Graham. I practiced using cabbage as an alternative source of toilet paper. My body had been developed to withstand almost any poison in the world, and for nearly two weeks my emotional and spiritual walls withstood an endless barrage of challenges.
– Staying focused on four flights for a combined total of nearly 25 hours on a plane and two-days of international travel across the globe with severe jet lag was a piece of cheesecake (I even ate the fish on the plane).
– I was not phased while navigating the hurried, hectic, and hostile streets of Medan, Indonesia under the cover of darkness to secure much needed supplies like Pringles and Coca-Cola for sustenance.
– My stomach has rivaled that of Andrew Zimmern as I chowed down on exotic fruits, strange meats, and questionable stews with fish bones. I had a strange pizza with mushrooms on it, and sometimes I would eat my food with my fingers even though spoons were available just to keep my mind sharp.
– As a missionary, I successfully infiltrated a local Mosque disguised as a local white man who has no idea what he’s doing. Notably, I have found this to be the most effective disguise so I have been utilizing it on a daily basis now.
BUT, last night, I finally reached the breaking point. Last night I found my ultimate weakness, my very own Achilles heel….
You see, I will do almost anything for the Kingdom of God. In two short weeks I have preached, prayed, and persevered for His Glory. I am prepared to stink or starve to make His Gospel known. In the words of James,
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” James 1:2-3 NIV
And God certainly knew how to test my faith because last night Justin and I needed to go pray for a church member when suddenly God finally called me out of my comfort zone. Given our limited available transportation and the time-sensitive circumstances, the church staff wanted me to hop on the back of a moped driven by….another grown man! [audience gasps]
There it was, my line in the sand. That was the hill upon which I swore I would die. Not 24 hours prior to that moment I had boasted to my teammates that they would never catch me dead on the back of a little Asian moped clutching the torso of anyone other than maybe Hugh Jackman. Mind you, this has nothing to do with homophobia. It is simply a case of “nobody-can-ever-look-cool-on-the-back-of-a-moped-phobia.” Not even Paul Newman, with Aviators, leather jacket, Rolex Daytona, and a half-finished Lucky Strike could look cool riding caboose on a moped.
I survived the moped crazed college years, so I thought that would be the last time in my life I would face such a conundrum. Somehow I overlooked this dilemma in my preparations for the race. Jesus asked Peter to step out of the boat onto the crashing waves, and now here He was asking me to saddle up behind another adult on a humming toy motorcycle. And so….
Let there be no doubt about whether or not God has a sense of humor. He definitely kept my pride in check.
Bonus Material for aspiring missionaries: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81FLsMZB2Fw
