Breezes

Have you ever been in a hot place where the air seemed to just sit suspended in place with no visible movement?  Such conditions make me feel like I’m living in a photograph; nothing moves, it’s just a snapshot of life. Here in the tropics such moments are much too frequent. Out in the jungle villages you are surrounded by forests of very tall trees and tangles of vegetation that are sentries that will not allow breezes to pass by. On many days I have sat perspiring in the humidity longing for movement of the air. I have timed the breezes and found that on average, on a “photograph” day, the air will stir about once in each fifteen minutes.  That means fifteen minutes of sweating with the weight of the humid air seeming to press drenched clothing against the skin. Uncomfortable indeed.

When that quarter-hour breeze comes it brings relief, pleasure, comfort…It brings a feeling of renewal if only for a few seconds. As the breeze passes and heads off to touch some other weary sufferer I’m compelled to reach out a hand in some futile attempt to grasp it, to cling to it, to make it mine. Yet I know the precious wind is not mine to own or control; it’s for everyone, for others who like me long for it to refresh their weary soul.

I’m sitting beneath a thatched roof on a springy deck made of pona palm wood, perspiring, longing for that small movement of air, regretting that I forgot to bring my hand-fan to fan myself, and the Spirit of the Lord whispers to me, “I am the breeze.” I listen again but hear no audible voice. Not even the wind. The fifteen minutes are not up. “I am the breeze, let me refresh you.” I pause. I think. Then I know in my own spirit that I am to think about the longing that I feel for the refreshing of a cool breeze. I must compare this longing with my longing for the Lord.

As I think, I’m ashamed that my craving for air too often supercedes my craving for the refreshing of the Lord in my life.  And I’m made to realize that in reality the suffering in the heat is meant to keep me on my toes and calling out to the Lord for strength, for endurance, for renewal, not just to endure the heatwave, but to be all I can be for His glory, even when I’m not just out of my comfort zone, but when the comfort zone has ceased to exist!

Wait. What’s that rustling of the leaves in the trees? Look, the clouds are moving across the sun…small droplets of rain are beginning to fall. A cool wind caresses my face and chills my body as it dries the perspiration from my skin. I rise from my chair and step down from my “photograph”. Refreshing has come outwardly, peace has come inwardly. It’s not just about the wind now.

Bridging the Gap

During my recent trip to the Río Pichis and Río Negro I (Marty) had to make the transition from one river to the other. Having met Pastor Justiniano in Yuyapichis, with him having come up from the Apurucayali River, we found the Río Negro was too low for us to travel by boat. We sent my cargo with Grimaldo in his small canoe while Justo and I walked. It was a journey I did not want to make and had supposed I never would need to.

Photo: shallows of the Río Negro

In all, the hike took four hours with my heavy backpack on my back and loose-fitting rubber boots on my feet. The result left large blisters that took all week to heal. Yet I never imagined that the walk along the river’s edge, through pastures of tall grass, and through deep rainforest would bring useful object lessons.

We had to cross the river two times while walking. In both cases the water was very shallow, but the first time I had to take off my boots to keep them dry inside. The river bottom was gravel and stones up to eight inches in diameter and being rather “soft-footed” (“Tender-foot” sounds too inexperienced and hence makes me feel less manly!) they were very painful on my feet. At the second crossing I managed to find a route across that I felt would allow me to leave the boots on. The rushing current, however, made walking more difficult than before. The situation was made worse by the fact that I was wearing a heavy backpack which made me top-heavy. As I tried to step carefully and to keep the water from sloshing into my boots, I nearly lost my balance repeatedly.

I have had very few “I can’t” moments while on the mission field. The first was when I kept failing my driver’s license written exam because of inadequate language. This time it came in the middle of the river. On the first effort I finally crossed and got my boots back on. On the second crossing I didn’t fare so well. I started across and found it tedious trying to keep from getting water in my boots. I soon failed at this and I still kept losing my balance as the swiftly moving water made it difficult to judge where to step. When I stalled out in midstream Justiniano spotted me and immediately returned for me with his cargo on his shoulders. He spread his feet in the current and braced himself. He extended a hand to me and eased me around behind him until I got my footing and was able to gain the higher river bottom with smaller rocks.

After I emerged from the river it came in a rush to my mind what had just happened—what had been illustrated for me. Justiniano had just interceded for me—he had stood in the gap for me. Without thought of his own inconvenience or discomfort (he was barefooted on the rocks) he came to my aid to help me when I could do nothing for myself. Thinking on this as we walked on, I wept to myself. Never has such a graphic illustration of intercession been shown to me. I see what it means to intercede without thought for self and to come to someone’s aid when they cannot make their way through life’s swift currents. It’s what Christ did. It’s what He expects of me in prayer and in service.

Photo: Justiniano in Bible study