When I was trying to figure out what was happening with RZIM, this guy kept emailing me. He called himself the "Banjo Atheist," and his YouTube channel was not much to look at. His nickname kept me from listening to what he had to say, even though he was telling the truth the whole time.

"Would you do anything God wanted you to do?" I hesitated. "I think so." Then I added, "But what if he asked me to go to Siberia? I don't think I could do that." My friend nodded thoughtfully, as if God might speak to us later that day and ask us to go there.

As the volunteer leaders gathered, a pastor exhorted us: "Remember, this event is not just about serving the community. It is about declaring the gospel! Do not be afraid to tell people about Jesus! That is what everyone needs. Jesus was not ashamed to save us, do not be ashamed of him!" I thought to myself, "No way. I don't know these people. I'm not blasting them with a message they don't want to hear."

After lunch, the owner of the cafe warned us, "You must download this app that tells you about the potholes." I thought she was well-meaning but overprotective. I was a good driver, and I'd driven in South Africa before. Minutes later, I wrenched the steering wheel to the left and slammed on the brakes to avoid driving my car down into a "pothole" that would have swallowed our entire car. Looking back on it, I think about the caring pastors standing at funerals, trying to comfort a family that had lost someone to a traffic accident. As their family cried out in grief, it would be tempting to blame God.

"Why is this in the trash?" My wife reached into the trash can, pulled out the paper she saw, and then placed it in the recycling bin. I didn't have a good answer, but I did think back to what I'd said in public. Just months earlier, I'd organized a large ministry event where Christians had discussed the importance of caring for God's creation. It was much easier to talk about being good stewards of God's world than to change my habits.