Back To The Future

The city far behind, one last peak was now visible through the break in trees ahead. I pressed on knowing that my legs would soon receive rest while I waited for the others. Only a few days ago had this noon rendezvous been set and, for once, I was early. Soon enough we would be together again with plenty of time to relax and eat lunch before the shadows crept away into afternoon.

Stepping out from the tree line, I was stunned by the hot African sun. Already warm from the trek, I unzipped my outer coat to release the extra heat. Just a few hundred feet away, I could see where may next break would be. Yet, this welcomed rest would come hand in hand with the knowledge that the cold did not linger far behind. At this altitude the sun's warmth would prove to be the only solace from the cold, mountain air. And only that morning had I left home wearing a t-shirt. Thankfully, I had possessed enough foresight to pack warm clothes as well. Four months into the job, the air was becoming warmer with each trip into the mountains. Summer would soon arrive to lighten our packs from the burden of cold weather gear.

Laying down my pack, I leaned against the bulky main sack to enjoy an astonishing view below. Even after making this trip countless times, the valley had still not lost its luster. Given the opportunity, I could sit for hours admiring the creative work of these rolling hills and sounds of far off sheep as they grazed in solitude. Opposite me sat another range hidden in a rain cloud of mystery. All morning rain had threatened from the south, but had not yet overtaken the sun. Enshallah. The Lord wills it. A little rain would not spoil my day or my joy. If there was one lesson I could learn living with Muslims for the past 15 months, it would be the reality of God's sovereignty and its implications for my life and attitude. This is an area of agreement for Christians and Muslims. Jesus prayed in this way, "Abba, Father. Take this cup from Me. All things are possible for You. Yet not My will, but Your will be done."

Soon enough, they would emerge from the trees below. I had not seen my partner, Luke, since leaving for the visa run. A break was good and Barcelona beautiful, but there was much work to do before leaving for our long-awaited vacation to Madagascar. When we left the apartment last week, I set off for Spain while Luke made the trek to Achmed's home.

More than ready to see both Luke and Achmed, I squirmed impatiently as the sun passed from its direct position overhead and began to weave new shadows. Closer than brothers these two had become to me. Luke and I often stayed with Achmed. In fact, this was how the relationship began. That first trip into the mountains had been miserable. The December cold, unbearable. The snow, nearly impassable. Those first villagers, impossible. We had been faithful to spread Gospel seeds broadly while seeking our first man of peace. But the rejection mounted with each new village we entered. After three days of moving from village to village, the Lord led us to Achmed.

Achmed, our first man of peace, after hearing the Message, insisted we stay the night. Then the next. And the next. It was a week of intense Bible study and discipleship. We left Achmed still a seeker, but so very close to relationship with Jesus. We took three days to trek home to rest, make contact with our prayer partners, and submit our regular paperwork before making a beeline for Achmed's small home. This second long, snowy trek we took with joy knowing that the Lord was moving.

Seeing from a distance, Achmed ran to meet us. He immediately sat us down, in the snow, and shared everything. He was elated with joy and more than once we had to ask him to slow down his Arabic just so we could understand. God had used a vision, he explained. Jesus came to him in a dream and simply said, "You can trust them." In two days he had read all the way through his new Bible. He truly believed and wanted to follow in the footsteps of Paul. And Silas. And Timothy. His excitement would prove to translate into action. Achmed began joining us as we traveled to neighboring villages seeking more men of peace.

Soon after, we met Muhammed and Aimen. Just as we often stayed with them, these three would come to the city and spend time studying and praying with us in the apartment. With the help of these three, we had been to every village on this range multiple times. Many new seekers had been identified and three small groups had been started. To this point, Achmed, Muhammed, and Aimen were the only known believers in the area, but the five of us often spent time together praying for God to sweep across the mountain like wildfire.

Faintly, I heard voices. Sure enough, coming up through the woods were Luke and Achmed, and Muhammed had joined them. Today we were moving on to a new work. A new range. A new challenge. The journey ahead was long, but we had determined long ago that every moment of the journey would be to the glory of God. Besides, there was much to talk about. God had been moving while I was gone...




I often find it hard to understand what I can not see, hear, or touch. For you who are faithfully praying, I understand how difficult it is to not fully fathom how best to pray. This story has not yet happened, but your prayers can make it a reality. With day one approaching, December 29th, this is the vision for which Luke and I pray. Please join us as we pray for God to move and to honor the faithfulness of His people whom He has redeemed.

Reconciliation: a Father and son, and father, story

Breathing heavily, I had hit the peak of my sprint. Though tired, my form remained intact for the final half-mile stretch. Judging by the immeasurable significance this day held for me, the energy boost almost seemed to be by divine appointment. As I rounded the final corner, I could see her. I do not often get worked up over a woman, but she was beautiful. And she was waiting for me.

Drive with the knees. Kick out the stride. Chest out, back straight. Arms loose. Digging down deep, I pushed through the pain and refused to let up all the way through to the end, number 33. Exhausted, I bent over for a brief moment before looking up to receive her inquiring eyes. "Don't close the gate!, please," I managed with a hoarse urgency. Standing there, pulling for breath, I allowed my guitar and bookbag to fall to the hard tile floor of the airport terminal...

17 minutes earlier, I sat comfortably at my gate waiting for the next flight to Cleveland. While engrossed in a thought-provoking book by Dr. Charles Fielding which called for preachers to heal and healers to preach, I had not noticed another afternoon slip away. Once more my mind began racing as I put down the book to rest my eyes. Uncertainty. Joy. Fear. Anticipation. I could not escape the emotional whirlwind as I retraced my steps through the last 16 years...

As a child, sin and divorce had separated me from my earthly father and created a chasm between us for the majority of my life. Malice, slander, and deceit had driven the gulf even deeper. After the divorce, my mother had no intention of allowing him to be a real influence in my life. He fought hard and never gave up on me, but it would be many more years before the truth was revealed. For a child, it is difficult, if not impossible, to love and trust a father who seems so far away.

All too often, the world sends wolves dressed as sheep, and even shepherds, to depict their own stories as truth. For me, the world used my mother. A little lie here. Some small gossip there. Twist these facts just a smidge. This is the way of the world. The world infects, strips away innocence, and forces a faulty paradigm of thinking on fledgling minds. At work are countless cohorts demanding the right to be the sole proprietor of truth for you and me.

This way of life led to anger and bitterness. At the right time, my relationship with the heavenly Father was reconciled. Yet, even with this restored relationship, the struggle remained. All too often, as a young believer, I ran back to the flesh and a prison of anger and bitterness that awaited me. My mind had been infiltrated. I had been given the template of how to think and, therefore, understood my father to be the man whom my mother had continually portrayed to me as a child. The world was so often winning this battle for my mind.

College served as my emancipation; it was here that I was freed from my two masters, anger and bitterness. I was finally enjoying true discipleship and living amongst those whom I knew would challenge and teach me. Then, by stealth, the world crept in once more to influence my impressionable mind. I was learning to let go of anger and bitterness, but the world convinced me that it was easier to exchange these for a new master, indifference. The family that raised me was a worldly trainwreck; I knew this from experience. But, on the other hand, my dad and his family were probably just as bad. As a college student, this is how I lived. Indifference toward the concept of family. Indifference toward the pain I denied. Indifference toward the unknown truth that would probably never come to light.

Reconciliation, like most things in life, is not completed instantly. What is most important in life takes time. By the gracious choice of the Father, the drawing of the Spirit, and the blood of Jesus Christ, I am fully reconciled at the end. As I walk with my Father through life, this process continues to take time and require endurance. With each passing year, the desire for my Father is strengthened as He continues to transform my heart and guide my steps. Reconciling the most important relationship will be a lifelong process, but it is well worth the wait to fully know the Father and His love for me. This life is easily sacrificed in order to be made complete in Christ.

Over the years, I often wondered what reconciliation with my earthly father would look like. I eventually realized that the continual process of being reconciled with my heavenly Father (also known as sanctification) had set a blueprint for me to follow with my earthly father. The process would require true love that can not be known but through Jesus. One day, the Spirit laid on my heart to write a letter. I pondered, for over a year, what words might be contained inside that envelope addressed to my father. The truth of who he was remained unknown to me. But his needs were no different than the needs of any other man who has walked the earth. Just as I desired to be reconciled to my father, I knew he needed to be reconciled to his Father.

Finally, I wrote it. And mailed it one day in March. He should know who I was. He should know where I had been. He should know my intentions. And most importantly, He should know of my Father with whom I had long been reconciled.

The blueprint was completely adequate, as well as the Cornerstone on whom it had been founded. The love of Jesus that had changed my life had also changed my father's life. By the grace of God, our next meeting would be as two new creations. As the process of being reconciled with my heavenly Father continues, the process of being reconciled to my earthly father now begins.

At precisely 3:33 my curiousity was peaked. It seemed odd that I was sitting in a terminal rather than on a plane at that point. I approached the desk and asked when we would begin to board for the 3:50 flight. The news was grim. The correct gate for the connection to Cleveland was not gate C26. In fact, I was scheduled to be at gate F33. And from where I stood, gate F33 was only accessible by taking a tram to the opposite side of the airport. Trusting my Father for the next steps, I sprinted off to meet my father.

Job Number One

As I find myself at the end of a time of training to live overseas, my mind is swirling in a flurry of emotion, theology, practical insights, and relationships for which I now long. At present, I see the whole two months through a lens tainted gray by the many goodbyes that followed. The impact these friends had on my life remains, but they are all dispersed throughout the continental U.S. preparing for a new frontier. These past few days have been difficult as I process through my time at "the farm". But rather than focus on the grief of breaking away and planting a whole new set of roots (knowing, of course, that they too will be pulled up in two weeks), I choose, rather, to focus on Elbert.

"Whooooaaa!" Let's talk about Elbert. One of the most influential believers to this point in my life, my goal is to give you a glimpse into how God used him to change my life. Furthermore, through this series, I can shore up in my own heart these teachings so as to not lose sight of what is most important over the next few years.

"And He appointed twelve, so that they would be with Him and that He could send them out to preach." -Mark 3:14

I have a very important job to accomplish over the next two years. As an apostle, it is so easy to become sidetracked and to forget or neglect this all-important primary task. Let's begin by defining what job number one is not:

1. Language learning... learning the heart language of the "Jeb" people is pivotal in my attempts to present hope and new life. But to move straight to language learning would be to take job number one for granted. Job number one is so important that it cannot be simply relegated to the status of presupposition.
   
2. Evangelism is essential if people are going to hear the name of Christ, but not my first responsibility.
   
3. Prayer touches on it, but is not all-encompassing of what job number one is.
   
4. Church planting remains the end goal, but is not the focal point of my life.

If I do nothing else the next two years, job number one is to be with Jesus. And the irony of this statement is that I will do more over the next two years simply being with Jesus than by filling my schedule with ministry.

Job number one is to be with Jesus. Another way Biblical writers say this is to use the verb "abide". Recently I have been pondering what it truly means to abide. Jesus says, "Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me." (John 15:4)

John gives some more insights into this life of abiding in Christ in his letter, I John.

"If we say that we have fellowship with Him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth; but if we walk in the Light as He Himself is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin."
-I John 1:6-7

To abide in Jesus is to walk in the Light. And why? Because He is in the Light, therefore that is where we too belong. This sums up most of John's abiding talk throughout the rest of the book. Walking in the light is equivalent to pleasing Him and keeping His commandments. (I John 3:22,24) Walking in the light is the fruit of being filled with the Spirit. (I John 4:13) Walking in the Light produces fellowship with God and men. This is intentionally reminiscent of the greatest two commands Jesus gave. He told us we are to love God with everything we have and to love others.

"The one who loves his brother abides in the Light and there is no cause for stumbling in him." -I John 2:10

Speaking of love for our brothers, John tells us that this also is part of abiding in Jesus. We know that love surpasses all else, including faith and hope. Because love comes from God (I John 4:7), to love is to take part in who He is, therefore causing one to abide in Him.

"As for you, let that abide in you which you heard from the beginning. If what you heard from the beginning abides in you, you also will abide in the Son and in the Father."
-I John 2:24

We abide in Jesus when His word abides in us. We abide in Jesus when His gospel abides in us. Job number one is to be with Jesus. Job number one is to abide in Jesus. Every day. All day. Forever. Walk in the light, love passionately, and delve into the deep waters of God and His word.

Recently, I wrote the following in my journal:

"Father, teach me to abide. I don't understand this. I want so badly to swim in the open sea of the mystery of You. But, yet, I have not learned to take that last step from the shallow end. I read a little, pray a little, and forget only to repeat it again tomorrow all the while hoping that I can pull together three or four straight days of this pseudo-abiding in You.

"Set my heart on You. Always. I need to abide. I don't want to get by just wading around in the three-foot pool of the American church. I want the mystery. I want the depths. I need You to drop me into the middle of the ocean where I'll swim forever and not become dry. No longer can I be only half wet. No more of this half-abiding in You. Soak me. All of me. All the day long. So wet I'll never be dry again. To truly live, I need to abide in the great deep of who You are."

To not abide in Jesus is to abide in anything else. It is to abide in a negative attitude. It is to abide in judgment of my brothers. It is to abide in anger, malice, and idle talk. John would sum up these other objects of my abiding as "the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life." (I John 2:16)

Job number one is to be with Jesus and no one else.

John closes his letter of I John with a sentence that seems to be out of place. Upon further reflection it is entirely appropriate. It further clarifies the answer to the question "what does it mean to abide?"

"Little children, guard yourselves from idols." - I John 5:21

Get Out Of Bed Man

Next to Dorm 12, now a girl's dorm, stands my old reading tree. As a sophomore, I spent many hours in its high branches reading anything and everything. Crossing the parking lot, the sight of Dorm 14 brought a smile to my pensive countenance. Senior year I would often stop by Jessica and Sarah's window to talk on the way to my dorm. With the Keyhole parking lot behind me, I crossed the lamp-lit street to the intramural field and spent a few minutes watching an ultimate frisbee game. The customary light up frisbee spurred memories of freshman year. Night after night, Baina and Jeff would power their light up frisbees the length of the field as I battled with Aaron Meng in the endzone. His athleticism and defensive insticts often triumphed over my amature freshman frisbee skills.

So many memories. Liberty, as I remember it, is a defining part of my life. But as I walked the campus, my Liberty was but a distant memory. Today's student, barely out of high school, walks the campus with his head buried in his cell phone, earphones poking through his hair. I found myself lost in a sea of unknown faces. My friends have moved on. The freshman hall that I led as a senior is now dispersed off campus or in scattered leadership positions. My "enemies" from dorm 16 are now a hall of 70 girls. This Liberty is a great place. But my Liberty now abides solely in the memory banks.

The life that I have come to know and enjoy is amongst Southeastern Seminary students who, on average, are about seven years older than the archetypal Liberty student. The games, pranks, and experiences of my life at Liberty are but a distant, hazy dream to which I may not return. Now awake, this is the dream for which I grasp. I can no more relive those days than a man may resume his place as last night's sleeping hero. Yet, there are some who find themselves still lying in bed striving to gain one last experience of some sub-conscious world. There is no going back. It is time to get out of bed.

"When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things." Every man must accept that the childish will never again be possible. Now, as a man, the future is bright. I will never return to those Liberty days, but they have prepared me well for my life's task. The fruit of that time will always be a part of my life. But for that fruit to sprout other fruit bearing trees I must accept my place in society as a man and follow God's call to go.

The real world awaits. It is time for me to get out of bed.

Retraction: Rick Warren Is Alright With Me

A few months ago, I wrote the post Rick Warren Is Alright With Me. Recently, I read this article concerning Rick Warren that has made me regret my words. I am not one to go around slamming other pastors and teachers, but I do think the body of Christ needs to confront issues that threaten the Church. At first glance, ministries like Saddleback, Lakewood, and Mars Hill (Michigan) appear to be vibrant and monstrously successful. But the anthropocentrism (state of being man-centered) that pervades the doctrines of these churches must be combated by Bible-believing Christians.

In II Timothy 4:2-4, Paul warns Timothy with these words: "Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with great patience and instruction. For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but wanting to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires, and will turn away their ears from the truth and will turn aside to myths."

I take the time to write these things not as an attack, but as a warning to a self-destructive American Church that breaks my heart. We need pastors who give the glory to God. We need pastors who will teach the Bible with respect to authorial intent. We need Jesus.

Today I experienced one of the most encouraging conversations I have had in a long time. My good friend, Bear Yarbrough, is raising support over the next two years to begin his life work in Mali amongst a tribal group of 2.7 million people. His team's 35-40 year plan involves four years of diligent language and cultural study followed by years of a systematic discipleship, church planting, pastoral training, and Bible translation ministry. His desire for the end of his life can be summed up in these words, "I want to sit back at the end of my work and watch the people preach, teach, and disciple one another. I will sit under their teaching and marvel at what God has done."

This is the heart of a godly man. This is the heart of a pastor.

Proud To Be An American

Justice. Representative government. Freedom. Civil rights. Equality. Self-sacrifice. Morality. All in decline. By these ideals the United States constitution was written. This national document America holds up next to the sacred texts. And just as sacred texts are further undermined by each successive generation, so is the constitution. These values upon which the constitution was written to stand are now nearly replaced in American society.

Justice is replaced by greed. Democracy by socialism. Freedom exchanged for bondage. Civil rights for oppression. Equality is being skewed to communism. Self-promotion now rules the political scene. Sex worship has overtaken morality.

Henry David Thoreau writes, "[We] hesitate, and we regret, and sometimes we petition; but we do nothing in earnest and with effect. We will wait, well disposed, for others to remedy the evil, that we may no longer have it to regret... There are nine hundred and ninety-nine patrons of virtue to one virtuous man."

You can point the finger at liberals, but the blame rests on us all. Silence is consent. As the years passed, we have ceded access to justice, legislation, and rule. We permitted the redefinition of life, standing by as infants were slaughtered by the millions and the sick permitted to expire. We watched as family and marriage made the transformation from firm foundation to nebulous concept. We neglected the needs of our own children by allowing them to be brainwashed by hostile education and culture.

They fought against a well-oiled and just system. They fed you lies and over-exaggerated the democratic flaws. They took full advantage of the right to freedom in order to steal yours. They advocated everything the Creator hates. They stole from Christians the idea of education and used it to indoctrinate young minds. One institution at a time they overtook to patiently weed out the defenders of the weak. From Harvard to Yale to Duke, they systematically wiped out the only true moral voice and, consequently, the one that opposed them.

"Down with the bourgeoisie!," they cry. Then, in the night, the unthinkable happens. One morning you awake to a wholly new bourgeoisie. Now, they have the power. Now, they have absolute control. Now, they make the rules. All the wonderful promises are dust in the wind. The very people they once claimed to defend, they now oppress. Yet, hindsight shows that they were oppressors all along. Subtle, coercive oppression that seduced you and teased at your senses. She lured you in with the promise of pleasure, security, and unity. She bound you in chains while you slept. And she left you to die.

When will the revolution occur? Will it take 30 more years of famine or plague or sword to usher in their great and glorious new age? Or, maybe the next great disaster will serve as the conduit to their seizure of power. Perhaps all they need is the panic of a self-induced healthcare crisis. They promise deliverance. They promise peace. They promise prosperity. Money. Power. Control. They even promise freedom. But freedom is just as easily taken as it is given.

"Look to the past!," you say. "What of the great Christian men by whom this nation was founded? We must return to the values that our founding fathers held."

For centuries America has benefited from Christian reforms. The very concept of social justice spurred on a system of checks and balances that leveled the playing field for all. The contribution of hospitals, schools, science, and freedom permitted Christian influence to be tolerated a little longer. A pagan nation, as many other pagan nations, had for a time been tamed for use by the true King. Pragmatism rode the wave of Christian ideals to the peak of civilization at which time Christians themselves were no longer necessary. Do not fool yourself, this nation you love is not a Christian nation. It never was.

From its inception, America has been a pagan nation infiltrated by Christians. Sympathetic deists wrote the constitution in such a way as to allow such an invasion. The truth of Scripture as absent from their Bibles as an utterly transcendent god from his own universe. For the proof of paganism, one need look no further than the nation's sacred temples. Modeled after the greatest idolators in the history of the world, our high places resemble those of ancient Egypt, Helen, and Roma. Men of old immortalized and worshiped as gods. The city centered by a rising obelisk that reaches toward the sun and its god, Amon Ra. Men, women, and children of all colors and walks of life journey to this sacred place to pay homage to the savior, democracy.

In like fashion to Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, men such as Jonathan Edwards, George Whitefield, Samuel Adams, Charles Finney, and Martin Luther King, Jr. served as prophets calling the nation to repent and change its ways. Always an uphill battle, Christians pressed forward against criticisms, slanders, and outright paganism. With the rise of the neo-liberal, the Christian purportedly carries no more value for this society. The difficult soil that Christians have toiled to plow for hundreds of years has nearly completed the process of petrification. These are the very rocks that tomorrow will be used to stone the faithful.

The time is soon coming when all Americans will be united. We'll strap up our boots, throw on our matching jackets, and march to the beat of the one drummer. Our American pride will be evidenced by the insignia worn by all. "Sieg Heil" replaced with a new, more chilling cry born out of the ashes of democracy. In the new fascist state, Neo-Arians will take precedence. Yet, Arians they will not be, but Moors. They will gawk with pride at their people's greatest accomplishment. As democracy yields to sharia law, a message of terror will ripple through the nations.

As has been from the beginning, the ebb and flow of history continues. Countless nations have undergone the Judeo-Christian transformation to the same demise. As the pagan nation weakens, it takes Christianity as its bride. Soon after, the pseudo-Christian paganism emerges from the womb. Weak and stumbling, it is quickly preyed upon by the conquering Muslims, or worse. The message of the past remains unheeded. No government will save. Government is only as perfect as the people that rule.

But is there hope? Yes, indeed. Yet, it comes not from where you may expect.

Amos is an account of the impending destruction of Israel, 8th century B.C. The slaughter awaits. Invasion is on the horizon. Captivity marches west from Assyria.

"Hear this word which I take up for you as a dirge, O house of Israel:

She has fallen, she will not rise again --
The virgin Israel,
She lies neglected on her land;
There is none to raise her up.

For thus says the Lord God,
'The city which goes forth a thousand strong will have a hundred left,
And the one which goes forth a hundred strong will have ten left to the house of Israel.'"

It is at this time that God sends one last call to repentance. This is a call that could save America should she choose to hear it.

"Seek the Lord that you may live.
Or He will break forth like a fire, O house of Joseph, and it will consume with none to quench it for Bethel, for those who turn justice into wormwood and cast righteousness down to the earth."

Amos 5:2-3, 6-7

Outlaws and Fugitives... Or, Law-Abiding Citizens?

The sound came from far away. An indiscriminate buzz moving nearer as it passed from another world into mine. The beginning and source were utterly unknown to me as I lay there helpless, constricted. Then, instantly, the realization of clucking snapped me to consciousness. Bright rays of awareness burned away the fog of deep sleep. My body was sweating wrapped in the zero-degree mummy bag. My nose, frozen, had become a conductor of the ice cold air from the bag's sole opening. Sitting up, I discovered the source of my re-entrance to consciousness. He stood blankly gazing at me from the doorway. Two bold steps my feathered friend ventured in my direction before fleeing a hungry dog through the entrance into the first beams of sunlight.

Searching my surroundings, I found everything precisely as I had remembered the previous night before sleep relieved me from a hard day of traveling. Piled in the corner of two baked-mud walls were mounds of potatoes. Corn hung from the thick, wooden rafters. Next to me were three other undisturbed sleeping bags. A few yards farther lay the already lit fire on the other side of the hut. Sitting next to the fire was Ewan, our host. He sat reading. Right where we had left him: by the fire, reading.

For hours the previous afternoon he had pointed to nearly every part of his body speaking his people's specific dialect in hopes that we would catch on. While eating potatoes and a mystery stew, we repeated these words and phrases back to him. With every new word, he joyfully chattered on while sporadically laughing at our repeated failures to correctly articulate. Eventually he tired of these games and the onus was left to us to stir conversation. It was at this time that I took the opportunity to begin the mission for which we had come. I presented to him our gift. This gift had traveled thousands of miles and passed, undetected, to where it did not legally belong.

Two days prior, our team of twelve had arrived in an undisclosed Chinese city. In a small, local hotel we piled into a room that we would never again see. It was here that we met our contact. Rosco, as he called himself, briefed each of the three teams individually as the others unpacked boxes of contraband and equally disseminated the materials amongst the twelve. Three hours later, we said our final goodbyes to Rosco and boarded an AirChina flight to a destination 300 miles away.

On the ground, Bear led our team of four to the bus depot from which we traveled four hours to our base city. After fighting through jetlag for a sleepless first night, we packed up our gear and began the trek over the mountain. For five hours, we made our own trail through the pines before discovering a breath-taking view from the peak to the valley and city below. Here the course was decided upon and the subsequent two hour hike took us across the ridge to the first village. It was here that we met Ewan, who now sat enjoying the rewards of our difficult task.

John 3 had been the catalyst to his mostly uninterrupted reading. As I placed the Bible in his hands, I opened it to John chapter 3 and opened my hands in a reading motion. For the rest of the night this book arrested his full attention but for three brief visits by other villagers. Each stayed long enough to experience Ewan's excitement before leaving him to return to his solace by the fire.

After breakfast, we left satisfied, not so much by the Chinese tribal cuisine, but by the first taste of success. We set out for the first of many more villages that scattered the mountainside opposite the valley city. We knew the coming days would be long and demanding.

Two years later, I find myself preparing for a very similar task. This time, my adventure will extend the week to two years. And rather than China, I will be backpacking into the mountains of Africa. One other common denominator is the ethical issue with which I am still faced.

Is it a godly course of action to enter a country and violate their laws by smuggling in the gospel and corresponding materials?

Due to the nature of the question in conjunction with my lack of ethics experience, I have done much research on the subject seeking an answer. The following are the fruits of my labor. These sources include philosophers, both Christian and secular, and theologians, along with an example from the modern era.

At the turn of the 5th century, Augustine wrote a letter to Boniface that we now know as "Of the Correction of the Donatists". The Donatists were an early sect that branched away from the mainstream Christianity of the day. Unlike sects such as the Arians, they held no theological disparities with the Church. This sect simply refused to gather under the umbrella of the Church. Augustine writes this letter to Boniface towards the end of the movement to encourage him to allow reformed Donatists back into the Church. He notes in the letter not only their break from the Church, but the event by which they left. It was false charges this group brought to the government against Bishop Caecilianus of Carthage that marked the beginning of their secession.

It is in this context that he speaks of the ungodly nature of their actions in juxtaposition to what is right according to God. He writes:

"For, morever, when emperors enact bad laws on the side of falsehood, as against the truth, those who hold a right faith are approved, and, if they persevere, are crowned; but when the emperors enact good laws on behalf of the truth against falsehood, then those who rage against them are put in fear, and those who understand are reformed. Whosoever, therefore, refuses to obey the laws of the emperors which are enacted against the truth of God, wins for himself a great reward; but whosoever refuses to obey the laws of the emperors which are enacted in behalf of truth, wins for himself great condemnation."

Henry David Thoreau, the transcendentalist writer, philosopher, and historian, deals with this ethical issue in his famous paper, "Civil Disobedience". He states:

"If the injustice is part of the necessary friction of the machine of government, let it go, let it go; perchance it will wear smooth -- certainly the machine will wear out. If injustice has a spring, or a pulley, or a rope, or a crank, exclusively for itself, then perhaps you may consider whether the remedy will not be worse than the evil; but if it is of such a nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another, then, I say, break the law. Let your life be a counter friction to stop the machine. What I have to do is to see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself to the wrong which I condemn."

The Old Testament holds a number of examples for believers concerning civil disobedience. Two that come to mind immediately are Daniel and David. At the threat of death by King Darius' injunction, Daniel continued to kneel toward Jerusalem three times a day from his balcony. He followed God in direct disobedience to the government and its king. David, too, directly disobeyed the government as Saul unjustly sought his life.

David not only seeks rescue from King Saul in the Old Testament, he comes to God seeking rescue from other nations in Psalm 35:24. Augustine translates and comments on this verse:

"'Judge me, O Lord, and distinguish my cause from an ungodly nation.' He does not say, 'Distinguish my punishment', but 'Distinguish my cause'. For the punishment of the impious may be the same; but the cause of the martyrs is always different."

While the pericopes of the Old Testament shed light on the subject, the teachings of the New Testament bring the truth further into focus. Paul and Peter both teach on the subject of submission to governmental authority. Both command submission to governing authorities. Both advocate the one stipulation that the government must punish evil and praise good.

Romans 13:1-3 teaches: "Every person is to be in subjection to the governing authorities for there is no authority except from God, and those which exist are established by God. Therefore whoever resists authority has opposed the ordinance of God; and they who have opposed will receive condemnation upon themselves. For rulers are not a cause of fear for good behavior, but for evil. Do you want to have no fear of authority? Do what is good and you will have praise from the same."

I Peter 2:13-14, 20 teaches: "Submit yourself for the Lord's sake to every human institution, whether to the king as the one in authority, or to governors as sent by him for the punishment of evildoers and the praise of those who do right... For what credit is there if, when you sin and are harshly treated, you endure it with patience? But if when you do what is right and suffer for it and patiently endure it, this finds favor with God."

The latter passage, in conjunction with Augustine's teaching, suggests that the one who does good despite the government will be punished. The man who finds favor with God does what is right, while receiving government opposition, AND patiently endures his punishment. Earthly laws still carry earthly consequences. But suffering for the sake of Christ has its own set of consequences. Therefore, while you are rightfully persecuted by the government, you are winning praise from God.

Paul's timely letter to the Roman church came from jail. In like fashion, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. also wrote a famous letter from jail. In defense of actions in Birmingham, Alabama leading to his arrest, he pens the well known "Letter from Birmingham City Jail" to his fellow clergymen. The following are a few of his thoughts on civil disobedience and the Christian's role therein:

"I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the prophets of the eighth century B.C. left their villages and carried their 'thus saith the Lord' far beyond the boundaries of their home towns, and just as the apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco Roman world, so I am compelled to carry the gospel of freedom beyond my own home town."

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

"You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to break laws... there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that 'an unjust law is no law at all.'"

To sum all of this up, Jesus said it very clearly:

"Go therefore and make disciples of all nations"