The swirling wind raked the sea with such force that it almost seemed as though the ocean was raining into the sky. The tempest whipped droplets and foam through the air with an almost vicious will, and the encroaching dark made it seem as though the whole world had melted away to nothing but swells and black sky and the relentless pounding of cold, bone-piercing water.
Water gushed and spurted like a wound over the side of the boat with every wave, slowly killing the crew’s chances of making it to shore. If it sank, their demise was almost a certainty in the face of overwhelming power of the sea; even if they weren’t completely swallowed up by the waves, the odds of reaching land in this fury were infinitesimal. The men scrambled desperately to bail out the boat, squinting to see even as far as their hands in the feeble light and stinging salt spray.
André lost his footing as a wave crashed into the side of the vessel, exploding in his face and wrenching the world violently sideways. He clung desperately to the mast, and hoped with mounting futility that they wouldn’t capsize. He’d been a fisherman all his life, and he was no stranger to furious storms, but he slowly felt a creeping fear rising in his gut that today would be his last on the water. He looked around frantically for his brother; in the dark and the waves, he couldn’t see much more than silhouettes, but was able to make out Simon’s wiry frame gripping tightly to the low railing of the boat, crouched low so as not to fall over. André felt the bottom drop out of his chest. They were going to die, and it was his fault.
The men were silent as they worked; though they came from different backgrounds, tonight they were united by a common purpose. Driven to survive, but weakening under the relentless pounding of the storm and their mounting sense of dread, the men found their strength sapping away from the cold and exertion. Boutros had given up on bailing. His energy spent on his efforts to save his companions, he clung, exhausted, to the low railing of the boat. Resting his head against the drenched wood, he tried to block out the rising noise of the wind and surf by closing his eyes and thinking of home; the last wave had nearly capsized the boat, and he needed to rally his strength if he was going to swim for shore. The boat was sinking, and with it his life’s work. His eyes fluttered briefly as he tried to blink away the stinging seawater that had crept into his closed eyelids, and his gaze settled briefly on a discolored piece of wood he’d fitted into the railing during last season’s repairs. He’d spent half his life on this boat, working with his friends and his brother to make a living. He loved being a fisherman. He’d grown up in a family of fishermen, and he found work on the boat every day easier than dealing with people. Rage over their dwindling efforts flared in his chest and coursed through his body, heating him from his core. His boat was sinking, but he was not going to go down without a fight. In the dim light, he could see his companions working in silence, interrupted only by the occasional grunt of exertion.
In silence.
Where is the Rabbi when you need someone praying?
Looking around, he saw his brother clinging desperately to the mast of the boat. Their eyes met briefly in the rising moon’s blue-white glow, he could see the look of stricken terror on the man’s face. He looked around, taking in the scene of panic; but searching for the person whose voice he couldn’t hear. Eventually, he saw the prone form of a man lying in the back of the boat on a pile of swamped cushions. The cry ripped from his throat and reverberated in his ears, barely noticeable above the din around him. “Teacher!”
André heard the cry and followed his brother’s gaze to the still body laying on the floor of the boat, water lapping around the man’s arms and legs. André’s mounting panic erupted into sheer terror, and as the sensation shot through his chest he saw his master’s chest rise and his arm twitch in response to the sound.
He’s asleep? Asleep?! What’s wrong with him? We ought not to have listened when he told us to cross.
Boutros called out again, and some of the others noticed the unfolding scene and began making their way toward them as he grappled his way along the edge of the precariously lurching boat, and shook the Rabbi by his tunic.
André’s legs felt like lead, and the overwhelming weight of his chaotic emotions overcame him. He screeched through the storm, his voice taught with fear and disbelief:
“Teacher, don’t you care that we’re going to drown?”
Jesus’ eyes opened, and after gazing around the boat settled on His first disciple with a fierce intensity. He pulled himself up to a seated position and looked out backward across the stern of the boat. He spoke sharply and authoritatively, his voice resonating with power and cutting through the cacophony of the storm, though his lips barely moved:
“Silence! Be Still!”
Like a wick burning its last fuel, the wind snuffed out, and the boat leveled like a leaf settling on a pond.
André (French for Andrew) and his brother Simon, called Boutros (Arabic for Peter) were left stunned in the midst of the other ten disciples.
Jesus’ words to his companions were softer, but retained their power.
“Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?“
Jesus wrung out a cushion over the side of the boat, and laid back down to rest. When he had closed his eyes, they stood in silence, dripping and quivering. It was John who spoke first, his voice hushed in the stillness. “Who is this man? Even the wind and the waves obey him!” Settling on the deck, they discussed the matter quietly as the boat drifted gently toward the far shore.
Last night I hit the breaking point. It was a tough day at work, the drive was long, and although I got some major prayer time in, I continued to obsess over the fact that in 7 days I need to have deposited an additional $3,104.96 into my account. I’ve made phone calls, I’ve had sit-down meetings, I’ve talked with people casually, and I’ve got a half-dozen really great ideas that will be amazing when they finally get executed, but they’re not ready yet. My parents are worried about me, and when that happens, I get weird because I walk around with the self-imposed expectation that I have to have all the answers and fix everything.
I hate fundraising. I know that the work I’m going to do is important. I know that God called me, and I know that people want to help. I know it is not an unreasonable thing to ask for help from the people that love you. I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m lurching around like some sort of pushy used car salesman trying to hock missions to meet the bottom line, and then the discomfort comes across and I think it makes everything worse.
The wind is howling, and the water is coming in over the sides of the boat, and the noise is overwhelming. I went downstairs last night and I read the story above. God is calling me to go on this trip. $3500 is a drop in the bucket for some people; for others it is almost inconceivable. The most God has ever prompted me to write a cheque for is $1,000. It’s his money anyway, so I figure I don’t get to argue. Right now I have no idea how it’s going to happen, but I trust my God that when He says “let’s cross the lake,” I’m going to arrive.
So I’ll go first, and be the uncomfortable one. “Transparency” is a political buzzword these days, but no-one ever does it. That’s not okay at all. Let’s have some transparency.
This is my bank account. 
I’m paying my student loans tomorrow, so these numbers will change, but this is what I have to work with.
The “Missions” is from people who are responding to God’s call. Most of them work at Mercy E.R. and are supporting me by buying chocolate bars, popcorn, and snacks. I have had a couple of people who have donated larger sums, but what you see is what there is.
The “Emergency” fund, as I called it after a few too many Dave Ramsey books, used to be double that. Then my car broke down. It happens. I get the reality of living in America.
I haven’t even started picking up equipment, or getting tickets to go to training camp, or paid the ~$500 for my vaccinations.
The Emergency Fund is really the “How I’m going to get a tent and backpack and sleeping bag” Fund. Thank God payday is Friday so I can pay the bills. I’m living it too, everyone.
I will make ~$20,000 dollars this year. if you go to the World bank’s site and do some quick math, you can see how many countries you’re worth. This is the chart of the average income from every country in the world.
In a year, I make the same amount as one person from each of the world’s poorest 31 countries.
That is RIDICULOUS. It is INSANE. The absurdity of the whole situation is getting to me a little. I AM RICH. YOU ARE RICH. When Jesus talks about the rich, He is talking about US. We may be poor by our culture’s standards, but my income is equivalent to the per capita GDP of 31 countries. That’s 31 AVERAGE people in those countries who could live off of my income. Like, not even the poor people!
That blows my mind.
So let’s shoot straight. I need money. I’m not greedy, or self-absorbed; I really just want to leave the country, go to a slum somewhere, and be nice to people. I want to be in a canoe somewhere praying like mad I don’t get eaten by a teeming school of piranha on the way to some remote village, because I want to tell them that Jesus loves them and show them that. Dad is already warning me about snakes that will chase me in Malaysia (because apparently, that’s a thing).
All that said though, I am running out of options. I’m not going to freak out about the entire price tag of this trip right now. Today is about the first hurdle: I need $3,104.94
So find your bank accounts, and after you find out how many countries you’re worth, ask yourself: How many countries am I willing to give for God?
$3104.94 is roughly the first 8. I joked with my brother over lunch one day “I feel like I should just say something like, ‘Do you love me enough to buy me lunch?’ Because for some people that’s all they can do. But get enough people buying you lunch and suddenly the trip is paid for.”
We CAN make a difference if we work together!
