I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d get the chance to invite my parents to join me on the Race. And quite honestly, I never imagined that my parents would actually come if I did invite them. My squad’s Parent Vision Trip (PVT) happened during the eighth month on our Race while we were in Africa and for that reason alone, I figured my parents would have to forgo the trip simply for financial reasons. And yet, on Friday, August 23rd, I stood outside the Nairobi International Airport and greeted my parents for the first time in eight months. This is the story of the time my parents came on the World Race.
I’ll never forget the feeling I had right before I saw my mom and dad. It was Friday evening and I was running completely on adrenalin. We Racers had traveled by bus from Uganda into Kenya for the PVT and it took thirty hours. So despite all of our excitement and giddiness, we were all pretty drained.
But as I stood on the curb outside the airport, my exhaustion was completely overridden by all my other feelings. I was so excited that I could hardly contain myself. I was also so nervous that I felt sick. All the emotions inside of me clashed and clanged around and I couldn’t stand still. I kept eyeing the gate and holding my breath every time a white, middle-aged couple came through. And then finally, I spotted my parents from a hundred yards away as they weaved through the crowd.
The reunion was everything you might imagine it would be: I yelled “Mom!!” right before I ran out into the crowd and flung myself into her arms. She dropped her bags and we pulled my dad into a family hug. I could’ve sworn everyone around us was cheering and clapping and crying at the poetic beauty of it all. For the first time in eight months, I was standing in front of my parents. Only, I wasn’t in America as I always figured I would be when I saw them again. We were in Kenya, and my parents were officially World Racers.
(an unintentionally awkward family photo taken
during door-to-door evangelism in the Rift Valley, PC: Jonathan Garner)
Each day of the PVT involved a different kind of ministry. One day we played soccer and volleyball with kids from an Internally Displaced Peoples camp. A couple of days we did door-to-door evangelism in the Rift Valley. And one day we did Ask The Lord (ATL) where we relied completely on the Spirit to lead us into ministry.
On the day we did ATL, each family was split into groups and the parents got a quick briefing on what ATL generally involves. The idea is that everybody goes to the Lord in prayer and asks for specific visions, words, or signs of some kind that indicate what the Lord wants you to do for the day. My parents and I were a part of a group that received about fifteen or twenty signs from God. Some of them were: a woman wearing a red hat, a smoking chimney, running water, and a smiling, toothless person.
(the whole gang)
After receiving this direction, we split up into smaller groups and walked into town in search of these things. And almost immediately, we found what the Lord sent us to find.
No more than five minutes into our walk, my parents and I spotted a smoking chimney overtop a roadside restaurant. As we crossed the road towards it, a woman wearing a bright red hat walked out. We caught up with her and found out that she really needed prayer for health because she had both Yellow Fever and Malaria. So we prayed for her, and as I rested my hand on her shoulder, I literally felt her feverish body cool down. When we finished praying, she said she felt better already. (We went back the next day to check up and she was in fact healed!)
For the next couple of hours, my parents and I watched sign after sign after sign manifest right in front of our eyes. We kept meeting people who were, in some way, a part of a vision we’d had earlier: a man with a plaid shirt; the toothless, smiling person; people standing near running water.
The entire afternoon was bursting with miracles. It was extraordinary, really.
But the most extraordinary part of PVT was not the ministry itself, nor was it the homemade cookies my mom brought me or the rooftop worship sessions or getting to see giraffes and hippos on our day off. The most extraordinary part of PVT was getting to do ministry with my parents.
(going on a boat safari on our day off)
Ministry, for me, is such a naturally occurring part of life. It bubbles up from within me and seems to happen no matter where I go. The kind of ministry I’m doing these days – praying for people, chasing kids around soccer fields, door-to-door evangelism – is basically second nature for me. But to my parents, that kind of stuff is much more unfamiliar, much less common.
And yet, my parents came all the way to Africa to be a part of this life – with me. They came knowing that it would be strange and different, but with great attitudes and willing spirits. They jumped right into everything despite their jetlag and the newness of it all.
As we did ministry together, my parents got to see me in my element firsthand. My lifestyle to them was no longer just an email or a blog post, it was a personal experience in which they got to participate. They weren’t just watching me via Facebook photos or Youtube videos, but were instead making memories right alongside me.
And what an extraordinary thing that is. I feel so blessed and so grateful that my parents came all the way to the other side of the world just to do ministry with me, just to give this thing called missions a try.
(My dad learning some "football" skills outside the IDP camp)
Mom and Dad, I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud that you got so far out of your comfort zones and you chose to enter my world of Chacos and cold showers and rooftop worship and ATL’s and feedback. I’m so grateful that you made so many sacrifices just to join me for a few days and experience this crazy life I’m living. I’m glad that you’ll now have a better understanding when I talk about things like “organic worship” or “struggle bus travel days”. And I’m so glad to call you my parents.
To all you Racers out there who might have a chance to invite your parents to a PVT, here’s my advice: this trip is not easy. It was most certainly the most exhausting week of my entire Race. So prepare yourself for hard conversations and difficult interactions. But also, prepare yourself for some extraordinary, beautiful things. The Lord desires to heal and restore relationships, to do ministry between parent and child, and to display his glory and grace intergenerationally. The PVT is much more than beautifully poetic airport reunion. It’s about inviting your parents into ministry with you and, most importantly, it’s about inviting God into families in new, remarkable ways.
(just chillin' with giraffes… and sheep)
