Nomad
I grew up hearing the stories of Pa Ingalls and his nomad heart. He was one of a generation of men dissatisfied with the urbanization of a somewhat new nation and a burning fire in their soul for the unknown. I stared with stars in my eyes and wished the west was still wild. Where would I go with a Colt revolver, pinto horse, and a rucksack full of pemmican? Where would I build a home of sod and split logs?
Then I grew up and realized the world had been tamed, and I missed it. The industrial and technical revolutions transformed the world, interconnecting the corners and backroads, tying the loose ends of the unexplored into a nice little package. Even space doesn't seem like a mystery anymore. Eugene Cernan said: "Today, we are on a path of decay. We are seeing the book close on five decades of accomplishment as the leader in human space exploration."
Time passed and my reading changed. I met Jonathan Kaplan in The Dressing Station, the South African physician who traveled the world across four decades, providing medical care in volatile situations: the Kurdish unrest after desert storm, Angolan wars triggered by apartheid, the Eritrean liberation. I saw that a man can live with little, and do so much good with willingness in his heart.
In Walk in Their Shoes, I met Jim Ziolkowski, with a financial career at GE in front of him who met real people in real places like Nepal and Malawi and decided that the best he could be was a builder of schools and hearts and minds.
Dr. Paul Brand (The Gift of Pain) pioneered treatment for leprosy patients across the world. He discovered that a fresh, whole green coconut can be tapped and administered to patients as a sterile intravenous electrolyte solution. He made connections, bridges between damaged synopses.
Bruce Olson (Bruchko) dropped out of college at nineteen and took a one way trip to the middle of the Venezuelan jungle and made contact with a "deadly, elusive tribe" of indigenous people and claimed them as his own. His secret? He came without an agenda, and left with a family.
What do these men have in common? Think of a ghost town. Is it developed? Or is it a frontier? Someone has been there before, made homes and stores, barns and fences, subdued the wild. But there you are, standing at the edge of something you have never known. "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." (T. S. Eliot)
My favorite chapter of the Bible is Isaiah 58, and I've referenced it in several previous posts. It's the job description for every true Christian. Loosen the bonds of wickedness, let the oppressed go free, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, take the homeless home, all the indications that at its heart the gospel of Jesus Christ is a socially altering ideology.
It concludes by showing the results of this lifestyle.
“Those from among you will rebuild the ancient ruins;
You will raise up the age-old foundations;
And you will be called the repairer of the breach,
The restorer of the streets in which to dwell." (Verse 12)
Here's the punchline: Christians are at heart explorers. We are called to rediscover and repair bridges and ghost towns around the world. Share what we know about Him, and learn from those who somehow slipped from us in the drastic push toward "civilization." As we go back and rediscover people, places, and ideologies lost in the deceptive advancement of modernization, we explore again. We repair the breach.
I'm a nomad, and there's so much left to discover.
"Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." (Matthew 28:19)
Then I grew up and realized the world had been tamed, and I missed it. The industrial and technical revolutions transformed the world, interconnecting the corners and backroads, tying the loose ends of the unexplored into a nice little package. Even space doesn't seem like a mystery anymore. Eugene Cernan said: "Today, we are on a path of decay. We are seeing the book close on five decades of accomplishment as the leader in human space exploration."
Time passed and my reading changed. I met Jonathan Kaplan in The Dressing Station, the South African physician who traveled the world across four decades, providing medical care in volatile situations: the Kurdish unrest after desert storm, Angolan wars triggered by apartheid, the Eritrean liberation. I saw that a man can live with little, and do so much good with willingness in his heart.
In Walk in Their Shoes, I met Jim Ziolkowski, with a financial career at GE in front of him who met real people in real places like Nepal and Malawi and decided that the best he could be was a builder of schools and hearts and minds.
Dr. Paul Brand (The Gift of Pain) pioneered treatment for leprosy patients across the world. He discovered that a fresh, whole green coconut can be tapped and administered to patients as a sterile intravenous electrolyte solution. He made connections, bridges between damaged synopses.
Bruce Olson (Bruchko) dropped out of college at nineteen and took a one way trip to the middle of the Venezuelan jungle and made contact with a "deadly, elusive tribe" of indigenous people and claimed them as his own. His secret? He came without an agenda, and left with a family.
What do these men have in common? Think of a ghost town. Is it developed? Or is it a frontier? Someone has been there before, made homes and stores, barns and fences, subdued the wild. But there you are, standing at the edge of something you have never known. "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." (T. S. Eliot)
My favorite chapter of the Bible is Isaiah 58, and I've referenced it in several previous posts. It's the job description for every true Christian. Loosen the bonds of wickedness, let the oppressed go free, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, take the homeless home, all the indications that at its heart the gospel of Jesus Christ is a socially altering ideology.
It concludes by showing the results of this lifestyle.
“Those from among you will rebuild the ancient ruins;
You will raise up the age-old foundations;
And you will be called the repairer of the breach,
The restorer of the streets in which to dwell." (Verse 12)
Here's the punchline: Christians are at heart explorers. We are called to rediscover and repair bridges and ghost towns around the world. Share what we know about Him, and learn from those who somehow slipped from us in the drastic push toward "civilization." As we go back and rediscover people, places, and ideologies lost in the deceptive advancement of modernization, we explore again. We repair the breach.
I'm a nomad, and there's so much left to discover.
"Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." (Matthew 28:19)
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