Over the last couple days I have watched a bunch of videos and seen countless photos as X squad is reunited with their families after the end of a long journey. Most of the images are overwhelming – tears, baffled faces, joy. The World Race is a journey unlike any other. These people have experienced an un-paralleled season of discipleship. It has been hard. It has been beautiful. And it is over.
If you are catching one of those leaping world racers, crouching with them in their crumbling tears, surprising them with signs and gifts, or recording the reunion with their pets, here are a few things to help explain what is going on.
Your loved one died this year. I know that sounds a little melodramatic. But it cost them that much. The sacrifice has been as abundant as the living. The journey they were on is one of exposure, bone-rattling vulnerability, and newness around almost every corner. As they come home, they are melting into familiar arms. The cost of discipleship weighs on them. It is not unlike a soldier returning from war – they cannot un-see what they have seen and they cannot pick up what has been left behind. Their soul has been pierced.
They wish you could have been there with them. They wish they could explain it to you. They wish it didn’t cost so much. But the inevitable is the unavoidable. Words can’t do the journey justice. And what it cost is just the beginning of what it gave.
Your loved one lived this year. Not the American Dream. Not even their own dreams. They lived Kingdom dreams. They walked in a life that is truly life. Buried with Him in death, they were raised to walk in the fullness of life. For eleven months, hundreds of days, multiple continents, and incalculable hours, they have lived life like never before. They are not just sad it is over, they are devastated. They wish they could take their squad home with them as much as they wished they could have taken you on the field. And today is not the end of abundant living, but it is the end of a season of abundant living. It’ll be a challenge for them to remember the difference.
Although they may not be able to say it well, they missed you. No matter what you’ve been through in the past, the familiar comfort of your presence is a thing sorely missing from their past eleven months (maybe the only thing really missing) and to melt into that again is more than these little hearts can bear.
They’re overwhelmed. But they are more than ok. If you don’t know what to do with your newly returned world racer, that’s fair; they don’t really know what to do with you. But they love you as you love them. That much hasn’t changed this year, except perhaps for the better. They know that this has been a journey for everyone, not just the ones with the stamps in their passport. More than anything, they are desperate to know what stepping out of this season with their squad and into the rest of their lives is going to look like. They don’t want to replace the life they had with you for their race life. They are just trying to figure out how to merge the two. They are cultivating their identity and being with you is a major and necessary part of that. But the weight of this journey is not something they can pass on to you. Let them bear it. Help them at the corners, wherever you can. Try to understand their desire to call squad mates. Don’t rush them through the weeping fetal-position you find them in. Let them rest, but don’t let them hide from the life God is calling them to. Challenge them to not be afraid.
Lastly, thank you! My goodness, thank you. These people have changed the world and changed each other. They have changed me. Thank you for your sacrifices. Thank you for taking the risk. Thank you for sharing them with the world. They are feeling gratitude, as hard as it is to express. And although this is a messy space, it is a beautiful mess. Perhaps we can all meet at gratitude. Perhaps there is a unity in thankfulness.
I’m glad your loved one is home. But ‘home’ means something different to them now. Not something that negates the truth of what home has always been, but something that adds to it and makes them want more. So much more. I know their presence is an immense joy to you. But we miss them. God, we miss them.
