On the Road Again!
The pilot’s arrival at the gravel airstrip, lying flat and groaning in the back of an army jeep, had not been an auspicious beginning. Now, packed with eight others into a military prop plane intended for six, the young foreigner cowered in the copilot’s seat as the aircraft wobbled erratically through the clouds. Still celebrating last night’s fiesta, the pilot sang at the top of his lungs, occasionally emphasizing the beat with a shove on the throttle. Periodically, he pounded on the dashboard, trying to shake the altimeter and compass into use. His girlfriend, without a seat, leaned over the young foreigner’s shoulder, whispering drunken caresses into the pilot’s ear.
Suddenly, the pilot shouted, “Anyone want to see what this thing can do?”
Pulling back on the throttle, he sent the airplane into an aerobatic loop. Amid screams, the pilot’s girlfriend announced loudly, “I’m going to be sick!” The young American tried to leave the danger zone, but the pressure of packed bodies was too great.
“Well, if you don’t like it!” the pilot grumbled, reluctantly leveling off the plane. Glancing at his green-faced girlfriend, he opened a side window. The blast of cold air swept the curtains out the window. Releasing the throttle, he grabbed for the window. The plane tilted ominously.
A Hollywood comedy? No, just a missionary flying home from a jungle Bible conference.
A unique experience? Hardly. BCM International’s ministry personnel around the world cover literally millions of miles and put in hundreds of thousands of traveling hours each year as they share the gospel. They journey by plane, boat, motorcycle, train, underground subways, dugout canoes, bicycle, on foot. Not to mention, every kind of motorized vehicle imaginable. Their travels range from super highways to jungle mud-holes and treacherous waterways to the un-railed precipices of the planet’s highest mountain trails. Most could share at least one story of heart-stopping adventure on the road.
One missionary tells of taking Bible Institute students on an evangelistic trip high in the Andes. The rutted track was only wide enough for one vehicle. Sheer cliffs broke away inches from the tires of his elderly Volkswagen pickup. It was late when the evangelistic campaign finished. By 2 a.m., the passengers were sound asleep.
The missionary driver was blinking away his own drowsiness when he suddenly realized he had no control over the vehicle. He spun the steering wheel, but it came loose in his hands. As he slammed on the brakes, the pickup swung erratically across the road before jerking to a stop. Wide awake now, the passengers climbed out to discover the pickup had slid into a shallow ditch.
“Only God could have stopped that vehicle at one of the few spots not bordered by a precipice,” the missionary shared afterwards. He found out later that the road’s washboard ruts had jolted the steering pin loose.
Two missionaries describe their first train ride to teach at a leadership conference in a less-developed country. “By the time we got our tickets, the train was moving out. Running to catch the train, we pulled ourselves aboard. But the cars were already packed so full that passengers were hanging out the open doors. We scrambled onto the roof. There was nothing to hold on to so we just braced ourselves as the train jolted along at forty miles an hour.
“Nor were we the only ones. Whole families, including small children huddled against the wind. Young men were playing cards. A few vendors hawked chewing gum and stale cookies. It never occurred to us anybody would collect our tickets up here. But soon the conductor strolled up, stepping over sprawled bodies as he clipped tickets.”
As children, my four siblings and I traveled much with my missionary parents in the Colombian Andes. I was eight years old the last time I took any pleasure in watching the spectacular mountain gorges below the jeep windows, clouds nestling in their depths. My mother was driving that day, the engine complaining loudly as our jeep puffed its way up steep, tight mountain curves. We had just rounded a hairpin bend when the engine died.
As my mother struggled frantically to restart the engine, the jeep began rolling backwards toward the precipice. There was no time to get out. The brakes were not responding to her efforts. We children knew we were going over that edge. I remember clearly thinking: “I wonder what heaven is like?”
At that instance, a large cargo truck rounded the bend. Seeing our predicament, the truck driver slammed to a halt. Jumping out of his truck, he ran over to the jeep, and yanked open the driver’s door. Pushing my mother aside, he grabbed at the gears. What he did, I have no idea. But the jeep was only feet from the cliff edge when the engine flared to life. An angel in disguise? Again, I have no idea, because he immediately returned to his truck and drove away.
Other missionary friends tell of crossing a river in a launch so loaded the water level was even with the gunwale and only frantic bailing kept them afloat.
Of course travel hazards aren’t found only in developing nations. A missionary colleague wrote from Germany: “I am writing this letter as we cruise down the autobahn at 120 per hour. No, that isn’t kilometers, it’s miles! And it’s more dangerous to slow down than to stay with the flow of traffic.”
Nor do all hazards come from nature. Ministry personnel on the road around the world routinely face danger from warring factions, guerrillas, opponents to the gospel, or just old-fashioned “bad guys.”
A missionary in eastern Colombia set out with a national pastor to preach at a town some distance away. On the way, they stopped at another town to deal with a problem that had arisen between two believers. The situation proved serious enough to make it too late to go on to the scheduled meeting. Returning home, the missionary discovered the next morning that a group of armed guerrillas had staked out a junction between the two towns, boasting that they were going to make an end of the evangelistas.
“If God had not used those believers’ quarrel to delay us,” marvels the missionary today, “we would undoubtedly have been gunned down.”
So why chronicle such traveling adventures? Well, of course, they are an undeniably useful source of exciting tales for church deputation and fund raising!
But these hours of travel are also an essential part of reaching the lost millions who hear the gospel of Jesus Christ every year. And despite all the above tales, missionaries and Christian workers are no more immune to the accidents and dangers of travel than anyone else. As the author, I personally have had missionary friends and colleagues kidnapped by guerrillas, lose their lives going over those mountain precipices in a bus, their ministry plane go down over jungle and never to be found, their own lives or loved ones taken by assailants on what began as an ordinary ministry trip. We cannot take for granted the safety of our brothers and sisters in Christ as they travel to share God’s Word and love.
So what can the Body of Christ do to help?
Foremost of all, we can pray. Our God is All Powerful, but He has chosen to work in accordance with the prayers of His people. When our jeep almost backed over a cliff, when my missionary father narrowly escaped ambush by bandits, when the pin flew out of my husband’s steering wheel as he drove Bible institute students on an Andes dirt track, there were Christian friends back home, pleading God’s protection over our family.
So whether cruising down the Interstate at 70 miles an hour or just relaxing in your own back yard, take a moment to pray for God’s protection—and an entire battalion of angel wings—over our BCM missionaries and Christian workers on the road, the water, or in the air as they carry the gospel of Jesus Christ to the farthest corners of this planet.
