Once upon a time, when the world was a younger and wilder place, it was possible to get lost. I donβt mean lost in the Walmart parking lot or disoriented for a few minutes at the county fair. I mean really, truly lost. As in, ππππππ-πππ-π¦ππ’π-ππππ lost.
Β Β Β This has happened to me twice. Once in the cold northern woods of Vermont, where a friend and I got careless and lost the trail at dusk. And once in the Amazon, alone, with the sure knowledge that there were jaguars and anacondas in the jungle.
Β Β Β To understand this kind of lostness, you must envision a world without GPS and cell phones, with hundreds of square miles of wild jungle. (And no one waiting off camera with a jug full of lemonade and a pocket full of Slim Jims.)
Β Β Β My first thought, when I was lost in the Amazon, was how stupid Iβd been. Actually, Iβd been lost for quite a while before I realized it, distracted by the beauty of the jungle, the monkeys overhead, and my wandering thoughts. It was late in the day and I had no bearings whatsoever. The fear of death swept over me, and with it a powerful rush of adrenaline. Then, despite the tropical heat, a cold sweat.
Β Β Β Interestingly, a Brazilian friend of mine, Joaquim Bezerra, knew that I was lost long before I did. While I was still admiring the butterflies and communing with the monkeys, he had already alerted the crew and set out to find me.
Β Β Β There is a beautiful spiritual metaphor to this story that many of you will understand. For the longest time I didnβt know I was lost, so how could I be found? Yet Joaquim (my βsaviorβ) knew that I was in mortal danger and came looking for me.
Β Β Β At sunset, when he found me and guided me safely home, I knew β in a very real sense β the joy of my salvation.
