I remember a time in my life when as a boy adventure was something I believed in and there was nothing more interesting than touring the forest in my neighborhood and living recklessly like the animals. We set out one morning with a few friends from the sixth grade in which I was at the time and headed for one of those trips into the wild seeking the pleasures of freedom that come without having the instruction or guidance of an adult. We walked all morning climbing uphill, our leader cutting a way through the jungle with the machete he had borrowed from his father. The shrubs tore through our feeble skin but we kept at it having set out to discover for ourselves the mysteries that lay beyond the usual locality frequented by the townsfolk. The jungle was different and no one ever attempted to go in there unless they were hunting. As we were incapable of hunting for anything giving the smallness of our size I guess our reason for being there was to explore the wilds of the forest. We walked in a file underneath the large trees talking excitedly about the excuses we had made to our parents to escape the house chores. We all knew that our parents would never have given us the permission to explore the forest on our own so we had each come up with one excuse or the other to disguise our adventure. It was a success given the fact that we were now in the serene jungle listening to only the cry of the birds and the many insects that roamed wildly beneath the trees.
We carried on walking for what seemed like an hour after which we found a shade in the trees and sat down to regain our strength. This wasn’t one of those formidable camping expeditions so very little or nothing was taking in terms of food or water. The vegetation provided by the forest was expected to provide all our nourishments. We expected to live in the wild and survive like the animals so we had packed nothing for the trip. As we sat underneath one of the huge trees we began to contemplate what fruits were available to replenish the energy we had lost in the last few hours into our adventure. We discovered a mango tree half a yard from were we sat and elected to climb it as the remnants of ripe fruit could be seen everywhere having been guzzled by the insects and birds that prowled the surroundings.
As we took off our shoes and prepared to climb the tree one of my friends remained seated watching the activity in contemplation. We asked him what the problem was and he said that his parents had told him never to climb a tree on Sunday. He said it was a bad omen and it wasn’t in his interest to disobey their advice. We laughed at him and the little sense he made daring him to climb the tree for us to see what would happen. Reluctantly he gave in to the pressure and climbed as we all did to feast on the mangoes. When we had eaten to our fill we all then proceeded to descend. It was at this point that my superstitious friend lost his footing and fell. We all rallied around him to see what had happened and he stood up unharmed from his fall. It was interesting since he had predicted that it was a bad omen for him to climb the tree on a Sunday but what was even more fascinating was the fact that nothing harmful had come by it. We all laughed it off in the end and I can tell you now that he was the most surprised of the events that had taken place.
His prediction had been true but the outcome had not been detrimental to his life. He had eliminated his fright of climbing on Sundays by realizing that evil only came to us when we believed in it, yet the outcome of life and death was determined by the grace of the Lord.