Raymond woke from his broken sleep with a dull ache in the pit of his stomach and an overpowering sense of fear that made his heart beat loudly in his chest. Today was the day he was to voyage to the northern shores of Africa. His passage on board the vessel had been secured for weeks, and his missionary articles were stowed ready. The vessel only waited upon him.
From the open window, the town of Genoa seemed to buzz with public anticipation of his bold ambitions to share Jesus Christ with those of the faith that Europe fought in the on-going Crusades. Picking up his quill pen, he wrote. ‘I am overwhelmed with terror at the thought of what might befall me in the country whither I am going. . .’ The quill shook uncontrollably in his hand. ‘. . . The idea of enduring torture or lifelong imprisonment presents itself with such force that I cannot control my emotions.’
These strong concerns grew more forceful, and finally they reached such a head that he was constrained to have his things removed from the ship’s hold. As the ship glided out of the harbour, Raymond stared, overcome with self-hatred and regret. ‘His passionate love for Christ could not bear the thought that he had proved a traitor to the cause for which God had specially fitted and called him’ and a bitter disappointment filled his soul at the reality that he remained unmoved from European soil.
