Victoria Falls - a truly epic story

01/04/2013 - Easter Monday

I have fallen more in love with God and discovered more of my own stupidity in the last couple of days than almost any other time in my life. Here’s what happened.

I went to Victoria Falls on Thursday, and it is the most awesome thing. It was so awesome I almost cried. And in the afternoon I did the bungee jump off the bridge – 111 metres down through the Zambezi gorge – and I survived. And while I was bouncing around I could see a rainbow that went all the way round into a perfect circle, and it might have been the adrenaline, but it really felt like a covenant. Like God was reminding me how beautiful he is and that he loves me. Which was good preparation. So then on Friday we went on a day trip to Botswana which was absolutely incredible – we saw so many elephants, and giraffes, and a buffalo and a leopard and even a lion! And it just felt like God was smiling over that place – with its incredible beauty, and the strange, wonderful creatures. It was an amazing day.

And then on Saturday we went back to the falls, and I took my bible and my notebook and I went and sat on the bank of the river, just before the edge, and prayed for people, and read the bible, and wrote. And then just as I was praying for my friend Lara, she appeared, and we chatted, and my mate George joined us, and we climbed along a bit further and found a tree trunk, right on the brink of the waterfall, and we sat in the most amazing place in the world. I can’t possibly describe it to you, but I wrote a poem while I was there that attempted to express something of the awe and the delight – so here goes (feel free to skip):

They came to the Great Waterfall.
They could see the river rushing towards
the endless horizon of bubbling white water.
They followed the bank, picking their way
breathlessly through the trees until they
reached the brink.
Just on the cusp.
Sitting on a twisted tree trunk at the end of the world.
And they felt like if they jumped,
they would land in eternity.
And the water seemed to leap and dance
on the edge of oblivion before it fell,
and it roared, like Aslan trying to get your attention.
And it felt like God was smiling.
Laughing at his own exuberance.
And they smiled back.
And whenever they looked at eachother,
they burst out laughing at the
sheer, needless, majesty.
And somewhere in them stirred
a strange longing, a hunger,
to make the leap.
To jump off the edge.
To be, all of a sudden,
immersed, engulfed, enrobed,
in the power, the glory, the pure water.
To fall and be forgotten
in the midst of majesty.
To become nothing but a part of the roar.
But instead, they left their tree and
clambered down carefully down to the
very bank of the great river,
to a cleft in the edge,
 a chink in the armour,
a miracle of gentleness.
And they let the water wash their feet.
And they felt clean. They felt delighted.
And they felt found and lost all at the same time.
And together they looked out across the thundering flood
as far as they could see
And again they felt like God was smiling.
And they were right.

And after I had finished writing that, and reading some bible, and praising God for his awesomeness, I got up to leave. And I climbed back the 5 metres along the bank to where I’d left my bag  - containing my wallet, my phone, my ipod and my passport – and it was gone. And I thought, ‘I hope Lara picked it up, but if not, it was worth it.’

Thereafter followed about an hour of worrying and trying to find or contact Lara or George, and praying a lot, and trying to trust God. And telling him that I didn’t need him to give it back, but it would be nice. And then eventually I found Lara and she said, “I’m sorry.”

And that was a horrible feeling. And I walked around for a while pretending to have things to do, and then I went and got my bible and I kneeled down and I cried. And then I opened up my bible to Hebrews 12, and read, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus... who endured the cross”. And at those words, honestly the whole horrible feeling just left me, and I smiled, and I thought, ‘If Jesus can do the cross, I can deal with a passport.’ And then I read this in Philippians 3 – “I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish that I may gain Christ and be found in him.” And I kept smiling and I knew that Jesus is enough. I could lose everything, and Jesus would still be enough.

And I skyped the family, and got to talk to my brother for the first time since I came back and it was beautiful and he told me he has “JESUS IS ENOUGH” written on a big piece of paper, stuck to his bedroom wall, and I loved it and I was so happy and I praised God for him, and for being enough.

So today, I decided to go back to the falls in the morning, just to check with the office if a bag had been handed in. And I told God, that he didn’t need to give it back to me, but he is kind, and I am his child, and he knows how to give good gifts to his children, and please could he give my passport back.

And I walked into the office and they didn’t have anything. So I walked back towards the place where I’d lost it, so that I could check that a baboon hadn’t just moved it a bit, and then just pray some more. And on the way, I saw a family of tourists, holding a little plastic wallet and looking through it. And I realised it was my plastic wallet – and they said, “Is it you?!” and I said “Yes!” and I took my passport and my bank cards and my visa off them and I wept with joy. And I thanked them and I sat down on the floor and laughed and cried and praised God. And I had a picture with their little daughter, and I thanked them again, and they left, and I knelt down on the path and thanked Jesus from the bottom of my heart. And I had the most beautiful time of my life. In all those parables, the lost coin, the lost sheep, the lost son, I understand that feeling now. The feeling of losing something and finding it again – how beautiful and delightful that is. And it blows my mind that God feels that much joy when one of us lost children comes home. And I put everything in the plastic bag I’d brought my bible in and I promised to keep it very close, and I went back to the place on the edge of the world, to thank God. And I wrote this:

“HOSANNA! You are the greatest. I love you that did this on Easter Saturday and Sunday as well! Nice touch. I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU. You are enough. And you are so kind. How can you be this awesome and still have time to be kind to me? I can see the end of the rainbow. You are the greatest God. You are the kindest Father.

I cannot find words for your goodness. “What is man that you are mindful of him? The son of man that you care for him?”

I will dance and I will sing and I will love and laugh and play and praise you all of my days.”

And then I turned round to my plastic bag – which I’d carefully placed just behind me in a hollow in the tree roots so that no one could steal it this time! – and took out my bible to find something to read. And as I turned back I saw a flash of yellow and felt a gust of wind. And I looked down, and the wind had taken the bag, too light now, through a gap in the roots I hadn’t noticed, and down, into Victoria Falls. It was gone, over the edge, into oblivion, lost in the most permanent way imaginable. And I swore at myself, loudly, and then I laughed. And I stood and stared, grinning at the waterfall for a little while. And then I picked up my notebook and wrote this:

“Well. I’m never going to forget this. You’re so good and I just throw it away.

Thank you though - for everything.

I just dropped my identity into your glory, which is a good metaphor even if it was a stupid reality.

It’s definitely my fault now, which is good.

I love you Jesus and you are enough, and the beautiful thing is that however stupid I am, I can’t lose you, I can never throw your love away. You are always going to be there, and I will always be yours. You will always have my picture in your wallet.

And right now your wallet is the whirlpool at the bottom of Victoria Falls.

And now at last, I know, that Christ’s power is made perfect in my weakness.

There is something perfect about this.”

So now I’m going to the police station to try and get a police report. I don’t think they’re going to believe my story.  The last two days have been literally unbelievable. God has taught me so much, and held me so close. Jesus is enough.

And you have to admit, it’s a pretty incredible story.

N.B. Thursday 04/04/2013

Just to let you know – that it’s all good now! Mum wanted me to wait until this was the case before I put up the blog, so that’s why I’m a few days late. In the meantime I have typed and printed my own police report (“The secretary is on holiday... and there’s no ink in the printer!”); made three visits to the British High Commission in Lusaka, after an encouraging initial welcome from a security guard - “Your trespassing, that was not an official entrance”; and taken a day bus that was so delayed it turned into a night bus. But I have got over the border. I am safely and legally in Malawi, and I’ve now got about 16 weeks to complete what’s supposed to be a 4-6 week process to get a proper passport.

Also, over the last few days it has properly sunk in how incredibly stupid I was. The seriousness of my foolishness was initially sort of hidden from me by an immense cloud of God’s grace and kindness, and it took a day thinking about how much my parents were worrying to realise that God’s goodness being infinitely, unstoppably good, does not stop my badness being bad. I suppose that’s what grace actually is – is God being incredibly good even though we are genuinely bad. So, in that sense:

“Twas grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.”