I sat down on the subway leaving the Chicago airport trying to keep my eyes open to look outside at the big city stuff passing by. My large pack is stuffed in the seat next to me and my small daypack rests on my lap, drooped down and tired, a mirror image of my own body. I glanced around the subway and saw each individual looking bored, passing time by looking at the glowing rectangle in their hands. My head bobs down and I realize that I’m losing consciousness quick due to the extensive travel from Southern Africa, to the Middle East and across the Northern World to touch down in The Windy City.
Along the way, we flew over Greenland. I shimmied my way out of the middle section of the large plane with rows numbering 10 across for as far back as I could see. I rudely stretched my neck over three people to glance outside of the window. I saw ice and snow with brown mountains scattered across the surreal looking landscape. I felt like an early explorer wanting to show everyone what I saw but wanting to keep it quiet at the same time, almost like a little secret between me and God. I looked enviously at people sitting next to the window and imagined myself ringing their necks for sleeping comfortably through the front row expedition, having no idea that it was no longer just water beneath us.
As we travel through Chicago everyone looks different but seems to dress the same. A lot of people speak English but nobody stops to ask us where we are going and no one seems to notice that this is a big moment for us. They don’t see that we are watching them and wondering where they are going and what they will be doing throughout the day. This lame rhythm and quiet sync makes the one person that looks up to notice seem like a beautiful colorful song, like a superhero protecting their city.
A couple of days before, I was in a small village along Lake Malawi with my squad of 46. We had a short time of closure together. We spent our last moments talking next to the heat of a fire at night. We laughed and danced together with the kid bands that walked along the sand and pounded on their empty plastic gas tanks singing “Who Let the Dogs Out.” We poured out everything we had left by worshiping together in unison, singing loud and passionately the promises that God has given us before we depart. There were lots of emotions in that small open aired room next to Thumbi Island, but joy would ultimately guide us away with confidence.
Once we landed we quickly dispersed like mail being shipped off to different destinations. In a snap of a finger, it’s over. It’s hard to think of what just happened. That’s when we glance up and look at strangers in a big american city and wonder if they notice us.
As I travel around inner city Chicago with my 3 day public transportation pass I notice a lot of brokenness. A different type of brokenness that I witnessed around the world. I even feel it to some extent. It’s loneliness. I see numerous people talking to themselves and acting lost. Yelling loudly at metal objects and laughing crazily at people walking by. It’s a different level of sadness. As I walk the streets alone for a day I feel snippets of what numerous people feel every single day. Being alone yet being surrounded by thousands of people.
It’s a strange feeling leaving a bunch of strangers that became family over the last year but at the same time being ecstatic about going home and being with our individual families. Our families who we have talked about and showed pictures of periodically around the world. If I have learned anything from this journey it’s that I’m thankful for my family. I’ve missed family weddings, family birth and family death. And although I was a long ways away from it all, I felt significantly loved.
Looking back I must ask the question, “What was the purpose of that trip?” The purpose was not to travel. The purpose was not to make new friends. The purpose was not to try new foods and experience different cultures. The purpose was not to live with less and worship in new ways. The purpose was not to gain knowledge.
The purpose was to treat each other like family. To the broken homeless man yelling at a trashcan or to the dirty children running around the streets. To the smart business man who doesn’t seem to have time or the Muslim lady selling fruit. That’s ultimately what God has asked us to do and thankfully we can do it anywhere we go. To notice people and let them know that there is a God out there who loves them and cares for them. That He has a large and loving family waiting for them, waiting to hear their hopes and dreams. We can never love each other perfectly and over the past eleven months we definitely didn’t always love each other well. But when we landed and departed we felt the love of something far beyond what we could have created on our own and God will continue to use each of us in different places so that others may be able to experience more of this beauty.
This journey started long before it ever began and now that it’s over I realize that it will never end.
