I am not brave; I am not a risk taker.
A fresh shiver courses through my veins each time my thoughts drift back to that moment. Though the event occurred more than 36 years ago, I recall the experience like yesterday.
It was Christmas. My family and I found ourselves—at the height of the Cold War—living covertly behind the Iron Curtain in Communist Poland.
In this tense environment, empty stores offered no toys, and Christmas decorations basically did not exist. To compensate for the lack of goods and supplies, I planned a trip to Vienna, Austria to purchase presents and stock up on holiday food items for my young family.
Vienna, the coffee capital of the world, always represented a place of respite. My friend Linda Dillow would meet me at the airport with a commitment to making sure I returned to my undercover life in Warsaw with every item on my to-do list checked off.
For starters, she and I strolled through the Christkindlmarkt at Rathausplatz with aromas of cinnamon and spice wafting through the air, and exquisite hand carved ornaments on display. As musicians played O Tannenbaum in the background, we marveled at the charm of an Austrian Christmas.
Back in her home, the definition of friendship took on deeper meaning as Linda listened to me articulate the highs and lows of living behind the Iron Curtain. At her kitchen table, munching warm chocolate chip cookies, we brainstormed how to bring brightness of the birth of Jesus into a dark setting where the atheist government declared He did not exist.
Action-packed hours filled the brief few days. After countless cups of coffee and multiple dashes to the grocery, together we faced the arduous task of packing my Christmas purchases for a family of five into limited baggage space. Oh my!
But I get ahead of myself; let me backup.
Before my journey, as I packed in our Warsaw home, Larry came to me with a request which stopped me dead in my tracks. Though I was aware of the project—and though I knew of its urgency—it never occurred to me that I needed to play a part.
“Debby, when you go to Austria, will you be willing to transport the translated materials? They need to be printed and made ready for our groups to use.” This biblical content, essential to the next step of growth in clandestine underground ministry, sat poised and ready to be carried outside the boundaries of this Communist nation.
Bottom line: would I be the smuggler? (Call it courier if you prefer, but the word courier is used to describe one bearing legal transport. What my husband was asking me to do was illegal—illegal, but essential to the development of God’s fast growing, fruitful ministry.)
Everything in the timing and printing on the legal printing presses in The West hinged on getting the documents out of the country. Otherwise, the project sat stalled. As Providence would have it, the request for transport fell to me. And Larry, from a heart filled with grace, gave me the freedom to decline.
I am not brave; I am not a risk taker. Adventure is not a must-have in my psyche. But with this request came the bedrock certainty that God wanted me to take a step of faith and trust Him.
Thoughtful consideration quickly sized up the reality of the situation.
My yes to Larry meant I would be alone when I stood in the airport customs zone.
My yes to Larry meant I would stand face to face with a Communist soldier as he rummaged through my baggage.
My yes to Larry meant I needed to communicate with confidence in a language not my own.
And, my yes to Larry meant that, before leaving home, I needed to hide the documents somewhere inside my suitcase that would escape the prying, menacing eyes of the military official assigned to thoroughly examine the contents of my luggage at the airport. Bear in mind, it was his specific duty to discover ones, such as I, doing exactly what I was doing—transporting material deemed illegal in the mind of the atheist government he served.
But my yes to Larry meant my yes to God. And God said,
“I will never leave you or forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5 ESV).
“My Presence will go with you and I will give you rest” (Exodus 33:14 NIV).
“When you pass through the waters I will be with you” (Isaiah 43:2 NIV).
“… do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say” (Matthew 10:19 NIV).
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10 NIV).
I did not know that I would be safe. I did not know if I would succeed. But I did know that He wanted me to grab the baton of faith, and walk through the border zone carrying holy contraband in my possession. Thousands upon thousands made far greater contributions to the cause of His Kingdom, yet this was a moment for me to take the next small step of faith in my journey with God.
So, I said yes.
After a restless night’s sleep, we loaded “said suitcase” and drove in near silence to the airport. Since our three children stayed behind with a babysitter, Larry and I made the ride alone. Check-in at the airline desk was uneventful, and much too soon, he and I hugged and said our goodbye’s. Turning from the secure, loving arms of my husband, I embarked on my solo journey of faith through customs, through my own spiritual war zone.
Clumsily, I placed my suitcase on the wooden table assigned to me. I waited with increasing apprehension for the officer on duty to complete his investigation of another traveler’s baggage. My teeth chattered, even though stifling heat poured through the chunky radiators. Clenching and unclenching fists inside my coat pockets, I turned nervously to strain and locate Larry in the distant waiting area.
And, of course, I conversed without ceasing with the unseen God I sought feebly to serve.
After what seemed like an eternity, my turn came. The dreaded official in the moss green military uniform turned sharply in his black leather boots, and zeroed his sights in on my suitcase and on me. As he approached, I held my breath and mustered up all the faith inside my weak-faith self. Either this would work or it would not. (If it did not, well … that is not for now.)
I knew then what I know today: this was not about me. Invisible battle lines were drawn for a spiritual warfare much greater than that of the political Cold War. Two unseen ancient Kingdoms faced off in conflict, and at this moment in history, I stood in no man’s land, at the apex of the action.
With a giddy nervousness, this clandestine missionary sought to engage in trite banter and perform the role of a calm traveling mom. As this soldier arrogantly flipped through the contents of my bag on behalf of his kingdom, I attempted to bravely stand my ground as a soldier for my Kingdom. And, I pleaded with God to blind his eyes; to prevent this one individual—on this one day—from discovering the content hidden inside my belongings.
Then, without fanfare, a declaration broke the tension. “You may go.” (What? Did I hear correctly?) “You may go.” And just like that, the episode was over.
Weak with relief, my trembling fingers closed my suitcase, and I dutifully transferred the bag with its holy contraband to the baggage cart. I would collect the item in Vienna, and place the precious cargo into the hands of the next Warrior for The Kingdom. Thankful to have done my small part, thankful to have the wall of fire behind me, I collapsed into my seat on the plane. “Thank you, Sweet Jesus. Thank you.”
Oh, yes—rolled up inside sheets of Christmas wrapping paper. The materials were successfully smuggled as they lay rolled up and hidden inside a small stack of wrapping paper.
Living With Eternal Intentionality®
When has God asked you to perform a difficult task?
How did He fortify your soul to make you ready?
