It took me completely by surprise.
My first thought was that, perhaps, I was simply exhausted from the rigors of a very full Holy Week. Reading the next few chapters of The Insanity of God for our book study early this morning, I found myself totally undone by what I was reading. I'm not always quite so emotional, but something happened while I read this morning.
The funny thing is that I have read this same story several dozen times. Even more, I'm the person who shaped the words of the story in the book! I have always found the story touching, even moving - but I have never had the reaction I had this morning.
Yes, maybe I was just tired.
Or maybe it was something else altogether.
The actual story in the book involves a follower of Jesus who is prompted in the night to go and share food with a desperate family. This man is quite literally awakened from his sleep by the call of God. He is told to gather food and to take it immediately, in the middle of the bitter winter night, to a family in need. Of course, he explains to God why that would be unwise, even unsafe. He tells God that, if he were to obey, he would likely freeze to death or be eaten by wolves. The heart of his objection is that, if he were to go, he would never make it back.
At that point, this is what he hears from God: You don't have to come back. You just have to go.
You don't have to come back. You just have to go.
I cannot begin to describe the impact of those words. I didn't mean to be moved, but the words took my breath away.
You don't have to come back. You just have to go.
At the risk of being overly personal in my blog today, I think those words hit me because of my upcoming trip to the Horn of Africa. Though I've traveled to Africa about a dozen times, this trip is completely different because Julie is going with me. We don't travel together very often, and we have never traveled overseas together. As much as I have missed having her with me on my journeys, there was always this wonderful assurance that she was at home taking care of everything. This time, however, she won't be doing that; she will be with me.
And that change in our normal pattern is so significant that we've actually talked with both of our children about . . . well, about the fact that sometimes things happen. Not to be crass, but sometimes airplanes disappear and sometimes ships sink. We all know that. And preparing for our journey, we felt compelled to share our hearts with our children. We talked to them about their lives and about our hopes and about their next steps. We tried to bring as much lightness and humor as possible to the conversations, but I'm not sure that our talks ended up being very humorous or very light. What's interesting is that our children listened carefully to what we were saying and that they took our words very seriously.
Please don't misunderstand what I'm saying. I don't have any ominous feelings about this upcoming trip. In fact, I feel a deep sense of both call and peace. What I am sure about is that I simply must go.
And, yes, I could probably give you all sorts of good reasons why this journey shouldn't happen. But those seemingly good reasons melt away in the face of this single reality: God wants me to do this. God wants Julie and me to do this.
And even if there isn't much clarity beyond that, this much is certain: we just have to go.
I need to be careful about what I read these days. My heart is pretty tender. I've never really talked to my children this way before. But more than anything, I want them to understand this: there is nothing in life better than hearing God's call and obeying it.
No matter how things turn out, there is nothing in life better than hearing God's call and obeying it.