Stepping out of the Safe Boat by Murray Pura

I am delighted to introduce Murray Pura as a guest blogger today. I know you will be inspired by this story of his obedience and how God blessed him during a summer in Northern Ireland. Is God asking you to step out of your boat in relation to your writing career?
I didn’t see it coming – neither
did the disciples, bent over their oars and plowing into the wind. I was rowing
away in my own fashion at my college studies, at Hebrew and Greek and scads of
other subjects, when I went to morning chapel and listened to a guest speaker
from Northern Ireland. His words astonished me. Former Loyalist and IRA gunmen
coming to faith in the real Jesus at the Maze Prison nine miles outside of
Belfast. Praying together. Reading the Bible together. Wasn’t this the kind of
reconciliation and transformation Jesus had died to give to the world? When he
said he was looking for volunteers to come to Belfast that summer and work with
his organization and various churches to bring Christ’s love to Ireland I put a
leg over the side of my cozy North American college boat. I was ready to walk
the walk.
But later when I delved deeper into
what they wanted me to do in Northern Ireland, I balked – open air public
speaking, public speaking in churches, open air drama and music, children and
youth work, door-to-door ministry – no way did I want to do public speaking
outdoors at market days or rallies and no way did I want to go door-to-door
clutching leaflets in my hand. The wind was picking up, the waves were getting
higher, I lost my nerve and quickly clambered back into the boat. I hardly got
my feet wet.
God let it go. Or at least he
appeared to. I went on with my studies and forgot about Ireland. I finished the
term at Christmas, wrote my exams and drove home to be with my family over the
holidays. I relaxed with a few books. In one of them a man talked about his
experiences doing missions work all over the world, including the Middle East
and Asia and Africa. Then I flipped a page and he was in Northern Ireland.
He talked about the Troubles, the
shootings and bombings and hatred between Irish who wanted to remain connected
to Britain and others who wanted to join the Republic of Ireland. He talked
about things he had seen Christ do in response to the faith of a few people. I
was inspired as I had been by the talk in chapel months before. But then I
closed the book and that was that.
Before I got out of the chair the
strangest sensation went right through me – I felt compelled to go to Ireland.
I protested, “Lord, I can’t, the deadline has passed.” But then I felt an even
stronger urging from his Spirit and in an instant all my objections were swept
away. I was meant to go to Ireland. I was bewildered, delighted and challenged
all at the same time.
So I began to get out of the boat
and odd things happened. At Christmas dinner my mother said she didn’t mind if
I went anywhere in the world as a minister as long as I never went to Northern
Ireland. Back at school I felt some doubts about my book reading conversion and
went into a prayer room to agonize over the whole matter. When I walked out of
the door the student who was organizing the whole Irish mission – who happened
to be Irish himself – was sitting there waiting to get into the prayer room.
I was astonished to see him. He
said hello and I blurted, “I’ve got to go to Ireland!” He said my eyes were
wide as soccer balls. “All right,” he responded, not sure what else to do, even
though they weren’t taking any more applications.
The waves came up and the wind was against
me. Some of the team members didn’t want me on the mission. While others had
been gathering funds for months I had only a few weeks. I needed to tell my
mother what I was intending to do – would she be able to handle it or could it
plunge her into a state of anxiety and fear?
The money came in. The mission team
bonded and we grew to love one another. My mother grew proud of what I had
decided to do. That summer I was in Ireland and wound up talking to people on
their doorsteps, preaching gospel messages to crowds on market days, writing
and acting out stories and dramas for children and teens, playing soccer with
50 players to a side and cowpies always underfoot like patches of ice – it was
one of the most astonishing summers of my life and it changed me completely as
good summers often can. The children we spoke with and listened to, the youth,
the adults, the lives we blessed and the lives that blessed us, there was never
another summer like it. I was walking where I had never walked before and I
kept walking, even in the wind and the waves.
For there were wind and waves,
though not so much within the team as all around us: shootings, killings,
kneecappings, teens being kicked to death by street gangs.  When we spoke with the Irish we did not focus
on Protestant and Catholic, Loyalist or Republican, choosing one side or
another, it was all about Jesus and God’s love for everyone. Even when we drove
back up from our few weeks at Carlow in the South and got tangled in the
traffic and smoke and shattered bodies of South Down’s Warrenpoint Massacre,
our Irish friends in Belfast frantic, worried we had been caught in the blasts,
it still had to be Jesus and forgiveness or else there was no message to give
to Ireland.
That was August 27th,
1979 – Lord Mountbatten blown to pieces on his boat Shadow V at Mullaghmore in
County Sligo in the South, a place we had driven past a few hours after it
happened, and eighteen British soldiers dead in two bombs at Warrenpoint, just
as we came over the border, dark smoke and confusion and army helicopters
roaring over our heads. The things you never forget when you climb out of the
boat and walk where Jesus asks you to walk. Sometimes it is where the
heartbreak and carnage is greatest. Northern Ireland has seen its civilians
killed, its fathers and mothers and children, its police and its soldiers. And
when you walk on those waters with Jesus he cares about all of them, it doesn’t
matter which side they’re on.
Walking on water is not easy and it
is not common. Sometimes we need to be in our boats and crossing our lakes,
sometimes we’ve been out of our boats long enough and need to get back in them,
sometimes there are things to do on shore. But sometimes Jesus invites us to
walk on water that is torn by wind and storm and if we can find the faith to
walk there with him it changes us and, a walk at a time, it changes the world
we live in.
****
This is an excerpt from Streams
by Murray Pura

Murray Pura was born and raised in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. His
first work of fiction was published in Teen Power when he was 16. Canadian
publications include the novels Mizzly
Fitch, Zo,
and The White Birds of
Morning
as well as the short story collections Mister Good Morning and The Poets of Windhover Marsh. In the
United States two books of popular theology have been published by Zondervan
while works of fiction include The Wings of Morning and The Face of Heaven . Murray has been a finalist for The Dartmouth Book
Award, The John Spencer Hill Literary Award, The Kobzar Literary Award, and The
Paraclete Fiction Award. A Baptist pastor for over 28 years, Murray currently writes and pastors in New Mexico. Visit his Website