Nine of them blindfolded me at the top of the hill. Two of them led me down the rock steps and told me they had me, to trust them. One of those two said, “Don’t hate me for hiding this from you.” Then she lifted the blindfold.
Forty of them yelled, “Surprise!” when it came off.
And for the first time I felt like I knew these people so much that I didn’t even know them anymore. Does that make any sense at all?
Today, I don’t really know the people that the world knows. I don’t know the people who were this or that person in high school, what kind of sports they play, the color they want their bridesmaids to wear or who should win the NBA Finals.
Somehow, in seven months, I’ve taken a stroll through almost each and every one of their hearts. When the blindfold came off and I saw all of them after a thirty-minute ride of darkness, it was like their hearts were right there on their face.
Not only were they a family who could have fellowship together at the dinner table after three months, but after seven, they were now a family who had shared and learned to endure hardships together.
We’ve seen each other fly off the handle. We’ve smelled each others’ traveling funk. Many of us have almost punched each other in the face at times but since we’re out here seeking to be more like Jesus, we get back in line pretty quick. We’ve told each other how to be fixed and regretted it later. We’ve told each other how to look more like Jesus and never regretted a word of it. We’ve given each other the weirdest looks when verbal processing about what “God is taking me through at the moment.” We’ve asked straight up where our hearts are at and expected some dang honest answers. We’ve cried on the floor. A lot. We frequented restaurants that serve anything free with a meal and we’ve stolen a whole lot of napkins from the same restaurants for toilet paper supply.
It ain’t easy out here on the road. We switch countries every twenty-five or so days and continents every ninety. Not to mention we’re all trying to “find ourselves” and it has begun to look like a whole lot of digging up the past and taking strolls through each others’ hearts.
But honestly, when I have a family of my own someday, I hope communication looks like this: Look me in the eye and tell me where your heart is and how we can tackle it together.
This is my big ol’ rough-housin’ family and I kinda love it.
A lot.
