It was my first trip to some far corner of the world, but it wasn't my last; today, my passport is stamped with visas from Israel, Jordan, Egypt, England, Canada, Mexico and Chile. The most important of these was a year sojourn in the Middle East. A year after my college graduation, I took my bride and my passport and boarded a plane in New York City and headed for Israel. We landed in Tel Aviv late on a Friday afternoon. The Eged bus that took us to Jerusalem travel near Mea Sharim, the orthodox Jewish quarter of the city, just as thousands of black-coated Jews were bustling home for the Shabbat meal. The image in my mind is still vivid. It was the beginning of a year of transformation.

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For almost eleven months, we lived in the marvelous, mysterious city of Jerusalem, at the intersection of cultures, religions, and histories. The Psalmist declares: 'Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised in the city of our God, his holy mountain, beautiful in elevation, the joy of all the earth, Mount Zion, the city of the great King." During that year, we traveled over every road, dirt, gravel and paved; and along the way attended a Christian Orthodox mass, observed a Jewish wedding, and drank Arab tea in a Muslim home. We made many life-long friends; we visited scores of biblical sites; we learned a new language; every corner of our minds and imaginations were filled with new ideas and new possibilities.

But it was not always easy and even safe. On a clear Shabbat morning in October of that year, we were sitting on the veranda outside our one-room apartment on Mount Zion. First, jets of the Israeli Air Force flew low over Jerusalem. This was odd, for it was not only the weekly Sabbath, it was also the holiest day of the year: Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Two hours later, tanks came rolling through the city. Something was afoot, it was clear.

It was the beginning of the Yom Kippur War. Once again, the Arabs and the Jews were at war. For eighteen days, Israel fought for her life. Israel is only 50 miles wide and 100 miles long, so everywhere in the nation was close, too close to the action. All of my teachers were called up into the military; most of our students took their place in factories; we lived by candlelight. Each night a 11 o'clock, we gathered around a radio, an old floor model Victrola to listen to the BBC broadcast from London. All the news through the Israeli press was censored.

Yes, there is danger on the far side of the world. Yes, leaving home with a passport involves some risk. Yes, in a certain sense it is always more safe to stay close to home. But all good things involve some risk. Opening a new book is a risky thing; coming to college is leaving behind the ideological safety of home; following Jesus demands that you let go of some familiar things and grab hold of the future God opens up for you.

Does this make you a bit nervous? Do you know the most oft repeated command of the Bible? It is written more times than "Love God" and "Love your neighbor." It is this: "Do not fear." We are not to fear the past or the future; we are not to fear the daylight or the darkness; we are not to fear the powers of heaven or earth; we are not to fear the call of God.