Steppin’ Out!

Angel sat across from me in the old open air passenger jeep as we tore through the streets of Cali, Colombia. The jeep had a brand new coat of candy apple red paint adorning its sides, but try as he might the driver couldn’t hide the battle scars and near misses that traced their way down the fenders and side panels of the old rattletrap. The windshield bore a striking resemblance to a spider web shimmering in the early morning sun, and to say the tires lacked tread would be rather generous; but, gracious, how that thing could move. As my Granny would say, it ran like a scalded dog through the streets, and you had best be prepared for the ride if you knew what was good for you. It was a hold on to your hat, hang on for dear life type of ride, and I loved every minute of it.

The fact that the driver was named Christian and his navigator, Angel, seemed strangely comforting to me, but did not appear to have an equal effect on the team’s newbies, if the startled screams and hasty prayers were any indication. The thing was standard transportation for mission work though, so I quietly prayed that the new folks would embrace the adventure and increase their faith to the point of enjoyment.

During a brief lull in the excitement, I shouted over to Angel a question. You see this candy apple red piece of greased lightening we were strapped into had intrigued me a little. For the life of me I couldn’t decide what make it was, so I asked Angel, who had manufactured the thing. He reply was equally intriguing. He said, “What part?” Then he proceeded give me a brief genealogical history of the vehicle.

The engine was an International, the frame was from a Chevy, the body from a Jeep, the transmission was from some Korean company and the tires were Michelins, of course. He proclaimed that last little tidbit with a sarcastic smile.

Upon reflection the hodgepodge we were riding in seemed strangely fitting for mission work to me; but after he had finished, I realized he had missed something, so I asked him who manufactured the back bumper. He said he had no idea. Then I asked him who installed it, and with at smile he thumped his chest and I understood why. As it turns out, Angel spent a great portion of his time standing on that bumper hanging on for dear life as he directed the driver in the way he should go. I reasoned that if I spent my time standing on the back bumper of a jeep as it threatened to go supersonic, I would want to be sure the bumper was secure myself, as well.

Personally I was glad to hear of the quality installation. You see, one of my chief pleasures in life while working in Cali was to stand on that same bumper and hang on for dear life as we careened up and down the mountain.

Years ago Christian, that year’s driver, held Angel’s position; and he and I struck up a friendship in the same way that Angel and I had. One morning, a few years back, as we left the city behind and began the dirt road climb up the mountain, Christian tapped me on the shoulder and invited me to share the bumper with him. It was a moment of acceptance and a bit of a test, I believe. So I gladly stepped out into the morning sunshine, and I have refused to relinquish my position from that time to this.

A peaceful freedom overtook me when I stepped out onto that bumper that was truly wonderful. The shackles of fear seemed to fall away, and my spirit relaxed within me as my muscles tightened their grip. When I felt the wind on my face, I begin to see the world anew. There is no use in me trying to explain it, it must be experienced. It is an awakening of sorts.

This past year the bumper didn’t beckon, the rear seat of a rickety and ramshackle motorbike did as we left Brisis Del Mar and headed for the coast.

​The motorbike was of the same manufacturer as the jeep, the driver projected the same mixture of peaceful insanity as did Angel and Christian and the ride was a bit more challenging than the mountain, if that is possible. As I tumbled down the hillside with the bike more airborne than earthbound, that same odd since of freedom and peace overtook me again, so I decided to examine it.  Where does it come from? Why is it there? It occurred to me that perhaps this particular brand of freedom, this particular brand of spiritual peace, can only be obtained when we step out of bounds a little.

Most of us spend our Christian life in a carefully ordered spiritual vacuum of sorts. We are often afraid to color outside of the lines. We live out our Christianity as if we are painting by numbers in fear that should the yellow bleed over into the red, disaster will follow.
Well I contend that if God can make Eden out of chaos, joy out of sorrow and eternal life out of death; then He can make a blessing out of anything done in His name.

It seems to me that true blessings seldom occur in a carefully planned sterile environment. God seems to love to work in haphazard and surprising ways. So let the colors run a bit in your life. Relax and bask in the freedom that Christ gives you. Find blessings in all things.
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Step out onto the bumper of life, careen down a hill or two, cast off your fear of the unknown and know that God is always before you, always behind you and always with you, yearning to bless you.
 
In Christ,   
Pastor Tony