I've met some fascinating people in my short life. I recall the brief stint as Sandra Bullock's house cleaner. Our first conversation... (Me cleaning an antique coffee table) "I'm sorry but I don't think I can ever get this thing to look new again." (Her reaction) "Heheheheh, that's funny." Far more intriguing was the unique cast of characters I spent the summer with in London, England in 1988. This was an evangelistic trip with Teen Missions and those 35 people were some of the most colorful personalities that God ever crafted. There was Joel Lawler, who was sure Sid Vicious was still alive. Steve Bakos who did a three month long impression of the church lady. Tammy Prochnov, who new way too much about my character, or lack thereof, from the bus ride from Des Moines to Daytona. Michelle from Georgia, who could make you laugh just by saying the word "head", which in Georgia, has three syllables. Cameron Friesen, a Canadian fireball who got fed up about mid July and headed home. He was my friend and I was sad to see him go. Tami See, who was a rock of common sense in our hurricane of hormonal hedonism. Kim Feenstra, a beautiful girl whose blond hair competed with her smile for 'brightest feature'. Her spirit outshined them both. I broke her heart and mine as well. Then there was Bonnie Penner. A lone soul who, among us all, seemed to know the reason we were on this evangelistic adventure. I was aware that Bonnie both knew God and she loved Him. It's far more rare than you think. We say we love but we can't even love each other and we say we know but most of us haven't even figured out who we are. I respected Bonnie with an angry, seething, brutal respect. I wasn't interested in truth and she seemed intent on making me stare at it every now and then. The painful reflection of loving chastening from a peer with the Spirit's power behind it provoked conversations I'll never forget. At the time I dismissed her by pondering the vast number of people with good hearted zeal I had encountered who, over time, allowed the fire to subside and called it maturity. Imagine my surprise when I decided to take a look online and see where Bonnie had settled down. Surely her youthful passion for the lost had, by now, become a mere memory.
In November of 2002 in the Lebanese city of Sidon, Bonnie was killed by a Muslim gunman. The morning light greeted her opening the orphanage that she worked in and on those steps her life ended for sharing the Gospel of peace with Muslim children. God has chosen mankind to be the lamp by which His light shines in the darkness. With Bonnie's martyrdom, the world lost a lamp that never lacked oil but only shined brighter with each moment. I had begun to fear that my zeal for God, His Word, and His House, would naturally subside over time and that there was little that could be done about it. Bonnie has proved me wrong.