God's Smuggler

by Brother Andrew

you holding on to something, Andrew? Something that’s keeping you from your freedom?”

“Did you find that adventure you were looking for, Andy?” I looked down at the floor. “Not really,” I said. “Well,” he said, “we’ll just have to keep praying.” “For adventure? For me?” I felt the angry flush climbing up the back of my neck. “Sure. I’m a natural for adventure now. When it calls, I’ll limp right out to meet it.” Immediately I was ashamed. What had made me answer like that? I left them, feeling I had spoiled a friendship.

Thile was staring out across the harbor. “And yet,” she said gently, “God hasn’t come to a standstill.” Suddenly she laughed. “I think you’re like one of your own lumps of clay, Andy. God has a plan for you, and He’s trying to get you into the center of it, and you keep dodging and slithering away.” She turned her dark eyes on mine. “How do you know? Maybe He wants to make you into something wonderful!”

voices in that wind. I heard Sister Patrice. “The monkey will never let go. . . .” I heard the singing under the big tent. “Let my people go. . . .” What was it I was hanging on to? What was it that was hanging on to me? What was standing between me and freedom?

rest of the house was asleep. I lay on my back with my hands under my head staring at the darkened ceiling and all at once, very quietly, I let go of my ego. With a new note in the wind yelling at me not to be a fool, I turned myself over to God—lock, stock, and adventure. There wasn’t much faith in my prayer. I just said, “Lord, if You will show me the way, I will follow You. Amen.” It was as simple as that.

“You know what I thought?” Greetje began. “I thought you would high-pressure me into ‘making a decision for Christ,’ like they said at those meetings. I wasn’t going to listen. Then you didn’t say a word. Now . . . don’t laugh, will you?” “Of

began to wonder, ‘Does Andrew think I’ve gone so far there’s no turning back? Is that why he doesn’t bother talking to me?’ And then I began to wonder if maybe I had gone too far. Would God still listen if I said I was sorry? Would He let me too start all over again, like those kids claimed? Anyhow, I asked Him to. It was a pretty funny prayer,

in my loft bed back in Witte, I went to sleep thanking God for letting me have a part in this transformation. That factory was a different place. And it all came about through obedience.

job analyst,” said Mr. Ringers. His keen eyes bored into mine. “And I suppose,” he said, “that while discussing jobs, you wouldn’t object if the subject of religion came up?” I felt my face turning scarlet. “Oh, yes,” he said. “We know about the proselytizing you’ve been doing upstairs. And I might add that I consider your kind of work considerably more important than manufacturing chocolates.” He smiled at the relief on my face. “I don’t know any reason, Andrew, why you can’t do both. If you can help me to run a better factory while getting recruits for God’s kingdom, why I’ll be satisfied.” ———

out. Not WEC. If they thought God wanted a man in a certain place, they sent him there and trusted God to worry about the details.

“If they think a man has a genuine call and a deep enough commitment, they don’t care if he hasn’t a degree to his name. They train him at their own school for two years and then send him out.” That

What is it, Lord?” What am I holding back? What am I using as an excuse for not serving You in whatever You want me to do?” And then, there by the canal, I finally had my answer. My “yes” to God had always been a “yes, but.” Yes, but I’m not educated. Yes, but I’m lame. With the next breath, I did say “Yes.” I said it in a brand-new way, without qualification. “I’ll go, Lord,” I said, “no matter whether it’s through the route of ordination, or through the WEC program, or through working on at Ringers’. Whenever, wherever, however You want me, I’ll go. And I’ll begin this very minute. Lord, as I stand up from this place, and as I take my first step forward, will You consider that this is a step toward complete obedience to You? I’ll call it the Step of Yes.” I stood

crippled ankle. Gingerly I put the foot on the ground. I could stand on it all right. What on earth had happened? Slowly and very cautiously I began walking home, and as I walked, one verse of Scripture kept popping into my mind: “Going, they were healed.” I couldn’t remember at first where it came from. Then I recalled the story of the ten lepers, and how on their way to see the priest as Christ had commanded, the miracle happened. “Going, they were healed.” Could it be? Could it possibly be that I too had been healed? I was due at a Sunday evening service in a village six kilometers away. Normally, I would have ridden my bicycle, but tonight was different. Tonight I was going to walk all the way to the meeting.