I humbly took the keys and headed out to the edge of town. The village where we met Edgad, the six year old who had been having trouble eating because of a sore throat. The same village where the singing dog comes to meet me. I had the routine down, and headed out with out a spanish speaker, or even a buddy. It was just a quick trip, and I had a lot to think about. I was trying to think of an adventure to write about. As I dodged kids, dogs, potholes, and soccer balls, I was trying to understand adventure. The sky had let loose on us that day, and I couldn’t judge how deep the potholes were because each one was full of water. So I drove slowly. When I got to the village, the pavement ends, and a small dirt road, about the length of a football field, ends in a swampy area. There are several small houses along this road. Last time I was here to pick people up, the men were out fixing the plumbing with machetes and a bicycle inner tube. I turned off the pavement and headed down the dark wet road, when I lost control of the truck…
There is something weird about those guys that never really grow up. The Peter Pan syndrome. People that are merely pursuing adventure for the sake of adventure. People that are looking for a dopamine rush after work or on the weekend. Mountain biking, rock climbing, kayaking, jumping out of planes. People are searching for a meaning, but losing the meaning, we escape into a momentary natural addiction. I believe this pursuit of ‘something’, some meaning to life is as old as time. This hunger is in each of us, some kill it, some live for it. We search and search…looking for something sacred we lost or forgot about. The perfect wave or a higher summit. There just has to be something more to live for than endorphins.
Adventure seekers love to be pioneers. The first to enter a frontier, or live in the frontier. I have heard many things called the final frontier- the deep sea, Alaska, space, even the mind.
People start using drugs as an adventure into something, or the escape from something- pain, boredom. The 60’s and LSD, Jack Kerouc and Ken Kesey. Philosophers debate the meaning of life, a purely platonic adventure. Each greater adventure takes us deeper into who we are. Once we have done an adventure, the next adventure needs to outdo the past, to bring that same rush. A stronger drug, a faster car, maybe mixing drugs and fast cars. It might cost some fingers or toes, or maybe even my life, but we need that higher summit.
What was the reason for the great explorations of the 1500’s? What was the purpose of Manifest Destiny? What is the need to go where no one has gone before? What keeps us pushing on? Is it in our genetics, our basic biology? Is it the eternity in the heart of man?
I grew up reading adventure books of all kinds. I never could fathom the idea of a career. Staying in one place for the rest of my life? I am not a friggin stone, I can’t gather moss, or let the grass grow under my feet. There just has to be more to life, something over the next hill I have to see.
I have never gone hunting, I have never killed anything with a gun. It has been a long time since I have eaten a fish that I have actually caught myself, but I always thought I would make a good frontiersman. I always loved to imagine living the life of Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, or Lewis and Clark. I was born two centuries too late. Now I think, being an astronaut or a pilot or even a scientist would be a great adventure, but I am not a good enough student to get through that much school. Just getting a bachelor’s degree was a huge adventure. I thought of being a smoke jumper, a bull rider, an alaskan fisherman, or a Marine, but I am just not brave enough. Just thinking about jumping out of a plane or bungee jumping gets my heart racing, I don’t know if I will ever actually do either of those. A day at an amusement park is totally exhausting to me. I am not a pure adrenaline junkie, although sometimes I think the idea is pretty cool. Living like the guys from the movie “Point Break”.
I started working for a moving company when I was 18. We would travel from Canada to Florida, as far west as the Mississippi. That fed my thirst for adventure, even through a windshield. My hunger for adrenaline came through sports, especially lifting weights. As my testosterone has started to drop with age, other hungers began to surface. I had never thought much about being married, I figured from what I could see, that would be the end of the road. When I was working for the moving company, drinking a lot, getting into fights, and meeting girls, I knew I was not the man I wanted to be. I was working hard and living fast, but getting no where. I started realizing I was wasting my time going down dead end streets. What would really be worth spending the rest of my life on? What road was worth the effort? What adventure would never end?
When I was 26 I decided I needed to figure out life. I knew what life was not, so what was life? What makes a man come truly alive? I have always read a ton of books, of all different subjects, and after reading a couple different books on the Appalachian Trail, I headed out. I have always figured if anyone could do somenthing, why not me? One book told the tale of a blind man who successfully completed the trail with his dog. The other book was written by Bill Bryson, who is a great writer, but as far as hiking goes, the blind guy totally kicks tail. At this age I was really tired of being a cowboy, wreckless and wild. I was looking for more meaning than the church had to offer, so I packed my bags and headed on out. I made one vow to myself, that I would not look to women for the adventure. I was old enough to realize women are the most exhausting dead end.
As I headed to Georgia, I was nervous, but figured I could take on this trail. After a few days of hiking, I started to get really lonely. As time went on, I started to make friends with hippies and rastafarians. As far as I can tell, no person could agree out there about what they believed, most people really can’t put a good explanation to what they are living for, but with enough beer and pot, everyone could get along. When people would get deep into conversations, I soon found out it was ok to agree with others, but don’t pretend you have anything figured out. When I would say that I believed Jesus was truly the only way, truth, and life, I found myself all alone again.
The fact that this was the one belief that everyone united against made me think there was real power behind what I was saying. I wasn’t tallking politics or religion, merely saying I believed the teachings of a man who was crucified almost 2000 years ago. I realized that whatever everyone else believed, the name of Jesus is offensive. No one is offended by any of the other beliefs, doesn’t this prove something? Jesus is the one name that makes everyone completely uncomfortable. There is something very challenging about this.
When I came home from hiking, I went on a missions trip. This was my first experience with missions of any kind, and also my first real experience with pentecostals. This was the first time I had ever really witnessed tongues, and the laying on of hands. This was also the first time I had seen so many people’s lives changed so drastically. Riding through the streets of Tijuana, building houses, learning dramas, eating cow brain tacos, my heart was so alive! This experience totally made me start looking into my deepest beliefs.
This began the adventure down a street with no end. That was six years ago, and the ride has just gotten better. I have found that totally living a life that is in God’s hands freaks everyone out. It freaks me out. So many people reminding me of God’s limits. That God doesn’t work a certain way. How to live my life. I have just decided that if God is God, then why would anyone live a normal life?
When I was growing up, no one ever told me that living for God could be an adventure. I realize now that my leaders and teachers had no idea who they were talking about. I remember getting told to sit still as someone would put pictures on a flannelgraph. Just so much that I can’t understand. How is the Bible full of great adventures, but most of us have only experienced the world through Epcot Center? How did God lead the Israelites into the Promised Land, but most Christians can’t get off the couch? When I suggest that every Christian should experience at least short term missions trips, I get the same look I did saying the name of Jesus to the hippies. Every where in the Bible people were on some type of adventure, how do we miss that? Jesus sent his disciples on short term trips. Paul had incredible journeys. These adventures are there waiting!
The truth is, I am saying that missions trips are a great adventure, but the true adventure is deepening our friendship with our Creator. That is the journey that will never end. Our life as we know it now, will end, but the adventure will never end.
As the truck slowly slid down the hill, I turned the wheels all the way one direction, then the other, but the truck just slowly slid along. I put it into reverse, and that managed to stop my sliding, but I could not get enough traction to actually reverse direction. I tried over and over to find some grip, but finally, I decided there was no way. I went to get the people for church, but they had already headed in by taxi, so there was no one I knew, and no one who spoke english in the village. Eventually I made enough commotion that people came out to help. One guy asked to drive, so I gave him the keys and he floored the gas. He fishtailed to the spot that I thought was a swamp and spun the truck around in the mud. Then he floored it again, driving in the 3 foot tall weeds along the side of the road. I thought he was going to blow the engine as it backfired over and over again. Finally he got stuck right where I had torn up all the road, and five guys pushed the truck. I hopped in the back to put weight on the tires, as I am muy pesado, and the truck shot forward. We managed to get the truck up on the pavement, and I hopped out and hugged all the guys. It is funny to do this, because they get all weirded out just shaking hands. The look of panic when a grinning gringo gives them a bear hug is so worth feeling like an idiot.
So reading this might have been an adventure in itself, but to be on adventure with God and in to God gives plenty to talk about.
