Sow the Spirit...

Dear Readership,

Thank you for following us. Thank you for praying for us. Thank you for your donations and your phone calls; your packages and your letters. This post is for you.

As Katherine put it this morning, we want trouble. Well, maybe I'm the only one who really wants any sort of trouble (I'm pretty sure I've offended nearly one person from every state so far!), but what she meant was--we don't want smooth sailing; we don't want to become complacent with where we are and who we've become--Christ compels us to change, adapt and love. That's part of the reason I think most of us joined this trip--we were looking to be shaken up, looking to be challenged and pushed; looking to grow. For me, six-weeks later, I've grown in a way I'm not sure I was ready for.

When I first began drafting sponsor letters and putting together my logistics for this ride I actually had very little knowledge of what the Fuller Center was (honestly, I never even looked at the DVD Ryan sent us beforehand), and I actually didn't care more so than you'd care about PETA or Save the Children--nice organizations, maybe even something worthy of a couple bucks here and there, but nothing you want invading your life. Let's face it: those canvassers are pretty in-your-face about donating or signing a petition or blah-blah-blah whatever. 

I think it first hit me in Rocky Ford, CO that the Fuller Center was something different. After a week with the team and a week's worth of asking "So who is Miller Fullerd?!" and "So we just build people houses for free, right?!" and Ryan shaking his head dozens of times, thinking, Somebody get this boy a pamphlet! During that Sunday at church, Ryan spoke about the Fuller Center as a ministry, and I cocked an eyebrow in honest curiousity. And maybe it was because I was wearing the name plastered on my jersey and t-shirts everywhere I went, but my heart was open and I was listening. And Ryan preached on about God's plan for us to be the instruments of His love here on earth and we watched the 9 minute DVD about the FC, and I got choked up. I even shared my testimony, openly. 

From then on I was more intrigued about who Millard Fuller was, what his ministry was about, and what exactly we were a part of--is this just some bike trip I was riding in for some random cause?! And Rocky Ford became a springboard for my growth as I dove into the pool of housing--going from not knowing how to assemble an IKEA desk to understanding what Rough Openings are and what in the world a Truss is. Who knew a city kid who hate(s/d) manual labor could be useful on a build site?!

And this is exactly what I'm talking about--I mean, here I am reflecting on a cross-country bike trip, and I haven't mentioned once the biking! I mean the hills, the flats, the tubes, the tires, the chamois cream, the saddle sores, the 5 AM wake-ups, the bagels eaten, the peanut-butter devoured, the phone-calls taken by Ryan, the fights over blue/red/yellow gatorade, the rest stops, the rockies, the desert, the mountains, the national landmarks. Not even once. 

When people ask about that all I can say is, "you had to be there...but do you know about the Fuller Center ministry?" Because in a way the biking is a novelty, but the ministry not only is lasting, but is contagious and perpetual. 

And in the end, when something great is ending it is difficult to get one final, pithy summary large enough to encompass the whole experience. When you throw your whole entire being into something--spiritually, physically and mentally exhausting yourself, what can you say when it's over that will let those on the outside fully understand the roller-coaster of happiness, pain, joy, a sense of accomplishment, a sense of defeat, fatigue, spiritual battles won and lost all at once? I guess you could say this...

That our ride was and is just beginning. 

And you are the ones that will keep it going.

Thanks to our team--everyone of them, for their gifts, talents, service, love and jokes (!); and thanks to you--you are the love behind us all.

Peace and Love,

Josh