Ernie was holed up in his house in Africa and running out of food and water because of all the political turmoil and violence outside. He is a missionary. He bought me an old book, one that had been a great resource to him, called Defense of the Faith, and it has been an invaluable reference source for me over the years. I had a conversation with Ernie about living the straight and narrow life. For instance, the things he learned in seminary, he said, were worth cutting off his long hair. I pointed out, however, that he had not at all settled for the conventional life. He'd gone to live in Africa, afterall. I have long suspected, and expected, that a life of close obedience to Jesus would be any life but typical. The paradox, I have found, is the stability and consistency and lasting contentment that have accompanied a life of being no longer conformed to the world (Rom 12:2). While He keeps me ever mindful that I am not to rely on things or even people, because they are fast to come and go, He has also been patient and gentle and careful in many of the ways He prepares me for what lies ahead. Hearing about Ernie being in some peril is a stark reminder to me, even as I enjoy the cityscape from the bar on my screened-in deck, that our safety and security are not guaranteed. Chaos and genocide feel not nearly so far away as I look at the note Ernie wrote inside the cover of the book he left me.