Destination unknown.

Life is so strange when you don’t know

How can you tell where you’re going to?

You can’t be sure of any situation

Something could change and then you won’t know

You ask yourself

Where do we go from here?

It seems so all too near

Just as far beyond as I can see

I still don’t know what this all means to me

You tell yourself

I have nowhere to go

I don’t know what to do

And I don’t even know the time of day

I guess it doesn’t matter any way

Life is so strange

Destination unknown

When you don’t know

Your destination

And something could change

It’s unknown

And then you won’t know

Destination unknown

About forty-five years ago, I was sitting at my fourth grade desk, daydreaming. The lyrics from the Missing Persons song Destination Unknown could have been playing in the background, and the words would have been very true for me. I can promise that my fourth grade self didn’t have a destination in mind. I can, however, also promise you I wasn’t doing my work, and if I was working, it was under compulsion. When I was a youngster, I never dreamed about having a job, doing any particular kind of work, or having a career. I dreamed about adventure. I dreamed about heroic things, about beautiful places around the world. I actually enjoyed the heroic stories in history about the explorers that circled the globe—and then I learned about modern adventure stories like the RA Expeditions—guys who built a boat of papyrus reeds and sailed it across the Atlantic. I loved adventurers like Jaques Cousteau, who was diving deeper into the ocean than anyone else. I loved watching Marlin Perkins send Jim Fowler to wrestle a water buffalo on Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. I loved reading about World War II and the men who fought bravely. And then I was further inspired by TV shows like Baa Baa Black Sheep and Combat. As many boys did of that era, I thought war was heroic and bravery was a mandate. So many of the people I knew were veterans of WW2, Korea, and Vietnam. And I admired them. I dreamed about being brave and doing things like riding in the Eagle Lunar landing craft and announcing “The Eagle has landed,” or diving next to Captain Cousteau, or charging the enemy lines.

As I grew, I found that my concept of adventure changed. I joined the Air Force and repaired fighter jets—F4G phantoms in case you were curious—but I (fortunately) didn’t have to fix bayonets and charge a hill. I did, however, get to kick in a few doors in my law enforcement career. I have not yet had the opportunity to scuba dive into the depths with Cousteau, but I have snorkeled around a couple of reefs.

I found that preparation was safer than incidental heroism, and that my family was more important than adventures with Cousteau. That didn’t eliminate my desire for adventure, however. Our go-to prefernce for family weekends were adventures. Climbing rocks at the Palisades, going down roads we haven’t been down, looking into the abandoned school house, and lots more. 

As I matured in my faith, the adventures switched tone. I found that I didn’t have a big desire to for daily adrenaline dumps, but instead I had a growing desire to serve the kingdom of God and to help God’s people. This led to my quest for opportunities to serve, and those opportunities turned into the adventures which I had daydreamed about as an obnoxious fourth grader. 

These adventures have become better and better. I have had the opportunity to ride a motorcycle into the mountains of northern Thailand, sleep in a hammock in a Mong village, teach self-defense to the church there, and make friends. I experienced Thai markets, roadside chicken on a stick, pineapple carts, and more. I have been in rural Africa, seen rat-on-a-stick—but I didn’t try that. The best part of our life filled with adventure isn’t the travel, the places, or the adrenaline—its the people. I have met some of the best people in dangerous places and while doing amazing work with people in poverty. There are people like my friends in Tijuana, Mexico, who are working in the red-light district and ministering to people who are in dire need. And there are friends in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, who work with the homeless by ministering and providing hope in Jesus, food, and shelter. I have friends like Tom and Sam who are sharing the gospel in the villages surrounding Entebbe and ministering to those in need. I think of my friends who build people up, share the gospel, and encouraging change and growth like Jill and Heidi, Asante and Angel, and hundreds more.

These adventures really are opportunities to serve. These adventures challenge me, force me to think outside of the world’s box and step into the purpose of the kingdom, requiring me to love sacrificially, invest without question, go down paths that lead to unknown destinations.

Today, my adventure was a conversation about really hard things with a guy I had never met before. But we talked about the hard things, then the really great things—the destination I now know, which is a relationship with Jesus, hope in Him, and hope of eternal life with Him.

So I spent a half of a lifetime of not knowing where I was headed, then I truly tuned into the will of God, albeit imperfectly, and now my destination is clear. The path, not so clear.

So the big question is, “Why does this matter, and why should you care?” This short article is a multi-pronged invitation. The first prong (and the primary reason I breath) is to invite you into a relationship with the Creator, Savior, and Sustainer of the universe. That is, I invite you to accept Jesus as your Lord, to put your faith and trust in him, and to die to your old self. The boy who daydreamed of heroics has left that behind to serve the kingdom of God. I have become a new creation, a new man in Christ Jesus.

The second point: We operate Fallout Shelter Ministries. And the purpose of Fallout is to share the gospel and to “prepare people for the unexpected.” Fallout has become an international mission. We have taught and continue to teach all over the world. We focus on places deep in poverty, desperation, and pain. We work to bring safety, hope, love, and primarily, the ministry of reconciliation to Christ. These things take help.

If you dream of the truly great adventure, if you crave the adrenaline dump, come with us. We teach in Tijuana, Mexico often, Africa about every other year, and then anywhere where we are invited. We lead a home build in Mexico yearly. We transport people safely—and are always seeking other drivers willing to go. We have a home base that allows for temporary housing for missionaries, or people in crisis. We provide a comfortable place that allows people to take a breath and look for the next step. We teach people martial arts for fun, for safety, for competition. I teach people firearm fundamentals. I like to say I teach people how not to die, but to be okay if the do. Every day is an adventure here, right from whoever walks through the door, to whoever we teach, serve, and get to share the love of Christ with.

If you are ready to embark on the great adventure, join us. The destination is known, and the adventures are still there, waiting for you to say yes.