Slipping Across the Border at Night
“So are you still planning to fly?”
I looked up and let my book fall closed on my lap, keeping a finger between the pages to mark my place. I reached up and clumsily pulled an iPhone earbud from my right ear.
“Sorry, pardon me?”
“I was just wondering if you two were still planning to fly tonight? I mean after they just announced the travel ban?”
A woman seated directly behind us in the Chicago Ohare departure lounge had been talking with my wife Sarah for several minutes and was now expanding the conversation to include me.
“Oh, right…” I smiled, “Yeah, absolutely - our kids live in France and I’d rather be stranded with them than quarantined alone at home. There’s no question. How about you guys?”
“Yeah, I think we’re gonna do it for sure,” standing behind her, the woman’s husband smiled at us and gestured with his plastic cup of beer. Nothing spilled. I was quietly impressed.
“I think so,” the woman glanced at her husband, “There are no travel restrictions with the UK yet, and we’re pretty sure they’ll let us back in, so I think we’re going to risk it.”
“They’ve got this big music festival there, and we’ve been looking forward to it for, like, forever,” he gestured with his cup again, “you guys like country music?”
A few hours earlier, we had checked in for our flight only minutes before the United States announced an international travel ban with the European Union. Now, sitting at the gate exchanging small talk with a friendly American couple, everything seemed strangely surreal - like an apocalyptic thriller movie focusing on the story of one family’s experience in the midst of a worldwide descent into chaos.
“There’s no question, right?” I had pulled Sarah aside earlier, “That’s the cool thing - we really felt like this was where God was leading us and now there’s really no question, right?”
“Absolutely,” she hadn’t wavered, “there’s no question.”
So we did it - we slipped into France less then 48 hours before the borders were closed and our flights home were cancelled.
Days later, I found myself standing in a small classroom full of students at the Biarritz Youth With a Mission training school.
It was a Monday morning, and I spoke for several hours on the topic of practical evangelism, the first of five scheduled classes for the week.
By Tuesday, France had declared a country-wide lockdown quarantine to combat the rapid spread of the COVID-19 virus.
So my daughter and I continued our teaching via FaceTime video from two miles away - approximately ten more hours of speaking, with the additional challenges of video drop-outs and fluctuating lag-time.
But God enabled us to complete all five sessions - a week's worth of classes.
And He met us - in a powerful way. It really was an exceptional group of students, and we watched them respond to God’s challenge in an inspiring, heartfelt way.
And this is why we do what we do.
In this time of worldwide upheaval and uncertainty, we are convinced that it is crucial to cling to Jesus, and also to make a concerted effort to stand together - to encourage each other, serve each other, and lift one another up in prayer.
With this in mind, we took some time to record an honest conversation about what it looks like to follow Jesus in the midst of real struggle - our hope and prayer is that it would be a real encouragement to you in whatever you’re walking through right now.
In this short clip (only TWO MINUTES!) Sierra and Zach explore the idea that sometimes God can use painful things to make us strong…
We also invite you to sign up to be part of our podcast community if you haven't already - we'll be releasing our first episode next week and we don't want you to miss it!
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