December 19, 2022
I was taking a walk down memory lane not too long ago—specifically the part of it that passes through my time as an Evangelical Christian. A particular batch of memories leapt out at me, some of which I hadn’t thought about in a really long time. I came to a realization:
Being an Evangelical Christian can lead to some pretty reckless behavior.
It makes sense when you think about it. When you believe there’s an all-powerful God who’s got your back at all times and will protect you from harm and danger, then why not take some risks?
Here are three instances from my past in which I was either involved in or witnessed reckless behavior (inspired by God):
The Youth Leader Disappearance
I’ve written before about how I used to volunteer for my church’s youth group. At the beginning of each new college semester, the youth leadership team would go on a retreat. There, we’d spend time hanging out, relaxing, doing Bible studies, and reviewing the sermon series that would be preached to the kids in the semester ahead.
We most often did these retreats in locations far from the city. Usually, we stayed in a lake house that belonged to someone who went to the church (i.e. we allowed them to “bless us” with a place we could stay for free).
For one such retreat, we all started trickling in over the course of a Friday afternoon and evening (the retreats would last the weekend). People would just head down whenever their college classes finished or whenever they got off work. People would carpool and by the time Friday night rolled around, everyone had arrived.
Except this time, someone was missing.
One of the youth leader girls had informed us she’d be driving down alone and after everyone else. She’d given us an ETA, but that time had long since passed. We all tried calling her cell phone to make sure she was okay. After all, we were in a lake house surrounded by thick forest and very few streetlights. If she’d gotten lost, it might be pretty hard to find the place.
She never answered her phone. People started to panic. They called her friends and sister, and no one had heard from her.
After about two hours of worrying and freaking out, she eventually rocked up as if nothing was wrong. She explained that on the drive up, she’d been listening to worship music and had felt “so overcome by the Holy Spirit” that she’d pulled over on the side the road, walked into the woods by herself, and spent some time in prayer and worshiping.
I was greatly annoyed, and I wasn’t the only one. I couldn’t help but wonder how hard it could’ve been to fire off a quick text message. But nah. She was fine to let everyone freak out and worry about her.
And given the area we were in, the pitch-dark woods on the side of the road was far from an ideal, safe spot for a college age girl who was alone.
Evangelizing in Syria
I recently wrote about a doctor who I worked with who put overseas Christian missionaries to shame. However, the closest I’d heard of someone achieving this level of dedication was a guy named Jim (not his real name) and his wife who were actively seeking to get into Syria to do mission work during the height of the Syrian Civil War in the early 2010s. The terrorist group ISIS was also active in the region.
I’d heard the guy sent out email updates, but due to the nature of his mission work, there was a level of secrecy involved (or at least, he thought there was; I’ve written before about missionaries who think they’re being sneaky but probably aren’t being as elusive as they think). To get on the email list, you had to “know someone” who’d put you on. My eyes are rolling just remembering that. Well, I knew someone, and I got on the email list without much effort. So much for security.
When I joined, Jim and his wife were in Jordan (a safe Middle Eastern country, both then and now) and looking to cross the border into Syria to begin their mission work there. I couldn’t wait to see how he’d do it. Update after update came and went, and each time he talked about how difficult it was and that he hadn’t been successful.
If you read the article I linked to above about the doctor who went to Syria around the same time, then you’ll know that he got into the country without any issues. I suppose Jim and his wife weren’t as street smart.
Eventually Jim came up with an idea of getting a degree from a university in Ireland, and that degree would somehow grant him access to Syria. I don’t remember the precise details, but Jim had explained them at the time. So the email newsletter became updates about his time in Ireland. What I thought was about to be an epic adventure of missionary work (I was into it at the time) devolved into a meager study abroad memoir.
I left the email list soon after. I got the impression that Jim was hoping people would forget about his grandiose plans to enter Syria and do mission work there.
And I think it’s for the best. When my doctor colleague went, at least he had a practical skill that could likely get him out of any potential trouble. Despite having interacted with ISIS terrorists during his work over there, if any of them had decided to kidnap him, at least they’d keep him alive so he could provide medical care. If they’d captured a Christian missionary… well…
The Bonfire
Another youth group story.
When you’re dealing with middle school youth (particularly boys) they like their entertainment to be big, loud, chaotic, and crazy.
And one winter night, that’s what we delivered.
We planned a bonfire for the youth on a freezing Saturday night. Of course there were hotdogs and s’mores. I don’t remember who was in charge of the bonfire, but it was—to this day—the biggest bonfire I’ve ever seen. The pile of sticks was taller than me and once it got started, the flame looked like a rescue signal to passing planes.
The fire was so hot you couldn’t even get close enough to it cook your hotdog. When a burned pile of sticks shifted at the bottom of the pile, the sticks on top came tumbling down, rolling fireballs between the kids who jumped out of the way just in time, laughing and thinking it was awesome.
One of the neighbors nearby the church called the fire department, which showed up and shut us down. Looking back, I don’t blame the meddling neighbor. The fire department let us off with a warning, but it was the last bonfire that my church did for the youth.
Conclusion
It’s amazing what you think you can get away with when you believe the big man upstairs has your back at all times.
Those first two stories annoyed me, but even today it’s hard for me to deny that that bonfire was pretty badass…