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A few chapters into the book, Mr. McManus explains that, just as a group of lions is called a pride or a group of cows is a herd, a group of rhinos is called a crash. This is especially fitting, he continues, when you consider that a rhino can run thirty miles per hour—yet it can see just thirty feet in front of its face. (Think for a moment about the potential for crashing into immovable objects.) In other words, rhinos run blind even as they charge full speed ahead.
The barbarian—i.e., the rhino—will take risks that few others will take. He often appears foolish to “domesticated” believers. And, without a doubt, he will crash from time to time. But then it’s full speed ahead once again. Reckless? Probably. Crazy? Sometimes. But the rhino is dissatisfied with the ordinary. He is compelled to follow the example of Jesus the Revolutionary. He audaciously believes that if Jesus healed the sick on the Sabbath, fed the hungry, rocked religious boats, and charged into the fray with a take-no-prisoners mindset, then so should he.
So...at the time I began reading The Barbarian Way, I was convinced in my spirit that God was putting Kenny and me together. That is to say, my spirit was at peace about it—but, because of my past history and some very deep scars, the rest of me was terrified. My spirit and my mind were at war. I had made some very costly mistakes in the past and was not willing to do it again. I loved Kenny’s heart; I’d known him for four years. (He was a missionary at the inner-city ministry where I volunteered.) I was convinced that he was a man of integrity, vision, compassion, and strength—and yet I didn’t trust my own judgment. To top it off, I was aware that life with him would be neither easy nor comfortable. I’d always thought I wanted to live a sacrificial life—but did I really?
One day during my lunch hour, after I had been reading the book for a few days, I came upon the section about rhinos. Suddenly, I understood that Kenny was a rhino and that it was by God’s design that we were meant to run together, full speed ahead. Yet I was more anxious than ever. I needed a sign. “I want nothing more than to do Your will, Lord,” I prayed, “but You’ve got to make things very, very clear to me.”
That evening, Kenny and I were scheduled to help at an evening meal for the poor and homeless at a neighborhood church. I was to meet him there at 5:00, but I had a few minutes to spare, so I ran into a used book store on Charlotte. I don’t remember what I was hunting for that day, but I didn’t find it, so I headed back out the door—and there, in the sizeable bookstore window, I spotted a nearly life-sized, molded black rhino. I almost choked with astonishment. And as I walked out the door, I finally saw the name of the store: Rhino Books.
At that moment, I knew beyond all doubt that I was destined to be a rhino’s wife. I knew I was cut out for it and that I wouldn’t be truly fulfilled apart from an unconventional, untamed life. I knew that to marry Kenny, visionary that he is, would often mean running blind, following God into unknown, unfamiliar places… but I couldn’t walk away from all that my spirit longed for. A few months later, we were married. Aside from accepting Jesus as Savior at the age of fifteen, it’s the smartest thing I ever did.
Kenny and I are not alone. The Christian community is peppered with barbarians and rhinos. Some are running full speed ahead, and some are sitting awkwardly in the pews, wondering why they’re not content with typical, civilized Christianity. How about you? Are you satisfied with the ordinary, or do you long to charge into the unknown, dust flying, content with the fact that God and only God knows where you’re headed?
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