No Fear on the Nile

Rich writes:

It's actually a pretty funny story. Rachel and I were with the bishop of northern Uganda and his security guards as we waited to board a boat that would take us for a ride down the Nile River. The bishop organized the boat ride as a thank you gift for us right before our return to the states. We were sitting on decrepit picnic benches eating lunch beside the Nile and since we had been in Uganda for about three weeks, I was used to eating with my fingers. I was carefully picking through the fish, so as not to swallow any bones, when I suddenly realized a large black object quickly approaching in my peripheral. Within seconds, a tremendous baboon came running at me, swiping his long arms and reaching out for my lunch. I immediately jumped off of the bench as the baboon, looking like Lebron James dishing a layup, managed to steal my lunch and knock the majority of leftovers onto the dirt ground.

"Richard!" the bishop shouted as the baboon was quickly gathering the remaining food scraps out of the dirt. "Take courage! You take fear!" His words hit me hard, and they still resonate. "Richard," he continued, "I saw the baboon running at you. I was coming to swat it away, but you did not stand your ground and face him! You ran away in fear, and now you have nothing to eat. Why did you do that?" I had no real response. For the entire boat ride, I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. Until then, the bishop had never raised his voice. Although he was being slightly facetious, I could tell that he was truly upset. In an area of the world where a famine had been declared, a meal was just wasted. Whether he intended to admonish me or not, I was cut to the heart. I heard the voice of Jesus, "Richard, take courage. You take fear."

Since that afternoon on the Nile, I've been meditating a lot about courage. Naturally, it has brought me to the fourteenth chapter of Matthew where Jesus calls Peter to get out of the boat and walk towards him on the water. Jesus' words to Peter are almost identical to the bishop's words to me: "Take heart, it is I; have no fear... Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?" Getting out of the boat and walking on water is more than an act of faith. It is also an act of obedience. It's just doing it. It's stepping into the squat rack and just getting under the bar. Real obedience requires real courage, not the kind you muster up all on your own. The kind you muster up all on your own isn't bad, but it won't move mountains. The key to courageous obedience in facing the impossible is locking eyes with the Master. Peter defied the laws of gravity and walked upon the waves of the lake with his eyes trustfully locked on Jesus. We all know what happened when his eyes became unglued.

If I'm being transparent with myself, I need to grow radically in the virtue of courage as Jesus asks me to get out of the boat, so to speak, and lead my family to northern Uganda. Classic moral philosophers define courage as doing what is right and good despite external threats. I would rather avoid all external threats and cling to what is safe and predictable. I would rather remain in the comfort of the boat or, in other words, the comfort of America. For the disciple, however, obedience isn't optional. He's either "Lord" or he isn't. I cannot deny that he is calling me to "come" and in my heart of hearts, I know that there is no safer place than outside the boat and inside the loving gaze of Jesus. Gazing on him, gazing on me, in the middle of raging waters - that's absolute safety.