The Vagabond. Frank Rautenbach

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СКАЧАТЬ was with shocked relief that I heard the gurgling sound of the brakes as they fought, and then managed to slow down the truck.

      My legs and hands were shaking as I pulled the truck over to the side of the road. The crew and I exchanged a wordless look, knowing how close we had come to a massive disaster and the sure end of the shoot. Lee Doig, our camera operator, told me afterward that he was busy releasing his harness from its carabiner, ready to jump when he heard the gears grind, and the beautiful sound of the compression brakes slowing down the truck.

      It has been more than a decade since shooting that scene, but I still get cold chills when I think of what could’ve happened had that truck not slotted into gear.

      Many people have asked me over the years if being involved with a movie like Faith Like Potatoes had a profound effect on my faith. I suspect that part of the reason people ask this question is that watching the movie probably had a profound effect on their faith, and that of many others. But it’s a hard one to answer directly because the experience of making the movie was vastly different to the experience of watching it.

      It was incredibly fulfilling for me to pour my heart and soul into the story and to bring Angus to life on the big screen. I instinctively communicate through storytelling and that is what I tried to focus on throughout the shoot.

      I would often rewrite my dialogue, especially in the scenes where Angus preached or spoke to a large group of people. I imagined myself speaking to the real people who would be watching the movie. In my performances, I drew heavily on my own faith journey to give heart and substance to those scenes.

      In the end, I believe we managed to produce a movie with lots of heart, which resonated with our audiences’ own stories. This would explain why they received it with open arms.

      The movie was a surprising runaway success. No one expected that. According to Sony Pictures in the US, hundreds of millions of people around the world have watched it. Millions of DVDs have been sold and it has been translated into 17 languages.

      In reality, though, when we started shooting Faith Like Potatoes, we were just hoping that we could distribute it locally on DVD. It was only during the fifth week of the shoot, when we watched a rough 45-minute edit of some of the footage, that we started thinking that it might be something special and that we should try to secure a theatrical release.

      Being involved in Faith Like Potatoes had a profound effect on me, especially when I saw how our work touched so many people’s lives. It left me in awe of God’s grace, and what He could do with the telling of a heartfelt story.

      I remember about four weeks into the shoot asking Reg why they had only cast the starring role three weeks before the shoot. He said that they had held auditions for almost three months – they saw many good actors, but none of them felt right for the role of Angus.

      So, shortly before shooting would begin, a very frustrated Reg found himself walking around his apartment, praying and asking God for help. And that’s when my name popped into the director’s head.

      Even though God uses our talents for his purposes, let’s not forget it was his grace and favour that allowed Faith Like Potatoes to do what it did and continues to do. It profoundly affected my faith by demonstrating that God is sovereign. We get to be a part of what He is doing – not the other way around.

      A lesson I would learn over the next few years as, ‘The Lord took me through the fire.’

      A VAGABOND

      vag·a·bond

      ‘vægə‚ bɒnd

      noun

      1. a person who wanders from place to place without a home or job.

      adjective

      1. having no settled home.

      ‘God’s love takes us on journeys we do not wish to go, makes us travel by roads we do not wish to use, to take us to places we never wish to leave.’

      Thomas Cranmer, fifteenth-century theologian

      THE BEGINNING

      I made my entrance into the world on a Friday. The date was 12 May 1972. History books and Google searches indicate that this was a pretty uneventful day as far as world events were concerned. BJ Vorster was in office as South Africa’s seventh prime minister, the Cold War was simmering in the background and Roberta Flack’s hit, First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’, was the number-one hit on the Billboard Charts.

      Apart from my parents seeing my face for the first time, I think it’s safe to say that, for many people in the world, 12 May 1972 was just another random day.

      But, for me – it was my birthday. Birthdays are special and they have this magical, almost sacred, feel about them.

      Deep in our hearts, there seems to be a feeling or a hint that we did not arrive on this planet by accident. That, somehow, we were created with intention. And, if we can still our hearts long enough, we find there a longing to know what we were made for. Of course, our parents played their part in the story of our creation, but even they are surprised and overwhelmed when we finally make our appearance. Like they were given the most precious gift.

      Why, for the most part, do we as humans respond like that? Why is life so precious? Why does it feel like there is an intention to our lives and we can’t help seeing it as a gift, even though we get to play a part in creating it?

      I personally believe that the answer lies in a few lines taken from a poem written by the great Hebrew king, David: ‘You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb … You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed’ (Psalm 139:13-16, NLT).

      This poem tells us that, long before King David’s parents even had the desire for a child, God already had plans for him. This beautiful poem was not only written for David and Israel’s sake, it was written for all humanity. Your life and my life are as sacred and special as this poem describes. Its words are in the strands of the DNA God created and used to knit us together. That is why there’s a shadow or a hint in us that maybe, just maybe, we were made for a purpose because we were certainly made on purpose.

      With all this intention and purpose, I must believe that 12 May 1972 was not just a random day for me to be born on; it was a day God handpicked for me. I don’t think I will ever fully know the reasoning behind his decision, but as time goes by I am still discovering the courage to believe that ‘Every day of my life was recorded in your book’. No one’s birth is random.

      From God’s point of view, then, if our lives were worth making, then surely they must be worth living?

      But what happens when the truth of those words is not the truth of our lives; when – for whatever reason – we feel that our lives are not worth living any more?

      Maybe you’re a Christian and you’ve heard that God wants you to have your best life now. But it feels more like you’re living your worst life now. Maybe someone prophesied a great future and a hope over you and it’s been years, but nothing has changed for the better in your life.

      Or someone did prophesy a very accurate word over you, one that you deeply identified with – as if they were reading your heart’s thoughts and you knew in an instant СКАЧАТЬ