We have arrived in Calhoun, GA!

Sumner prepared an amazing breakfast

I would like to extend a very warm and sincere thank you to Sumner McCallie, the McCallie School, and all the staff thereof, for a wonderful stay last night at their campus.  And a double thank you to you, Sumner, for a breakfast that will go down in history, and will be a definitive highlight of the trip.  It was fantastic.

Enjoying breakfast

Here’s a snapshot of what happened today:  we rode in the rain, we lost Nick for a few hours, and everyone arrived safely at our next destination.  Since this is roughly what has happened for the past three days, I’ve decided to skip the details of the ride, and to share a few thoughts I’ve had while pedaling for the past few weeks.  I hope you won’t mind the interjection.

Eric and Thad

Spending five hours a day on a bicycle for past three weeks has invariably lead me to draw parallels between cycling and my personal walk with Jesus Christ.  Over time, I’ve come to realize, or rediscover, some core truths about my faith.  For example, I give you the “pace line”.

We are in Georgia!

For those unfamiliar with the concept of a pace line, let me briefly explain.  On days where there exists a strong headwind, or a group of riders simply want to increase their efficiency and speed, they agree to form pace line.  Once on the road, the cyclists form a line, each rider tightly tucked behind the one in front, with their wheels about a foot apart.  The lead cyclist is tasked with setting a pace, at a speed he or she is comfortable with, and the rest of the riders follow suit.  The leader acts as a buffer, creating a wind pocket, and making less wind resistance for the rider behind them.  In a correct pace line, cyclists behind the leader may only need to pedal 85% as hard as the lead cyclist.  Eventually, the leader falls back to the end of the line, and the rotation continues, each rider taking a turn at leading, and then resting at the rear.

The obvious issue when riding in a pace line is trust.  Being so closely packed together at high speeds creates a dangerous situation.  One’s view of the road is greatly obstructed by the rider in front of them, and because of this, they must rely on the lead cyclist to navigate them around obstacles, warn them of bumpy terrain, and to set a pace everyone can comfortably ride at.  For example, I’ve spent a great deal of time riding in pace lines with Eric and Nick.  Three weeks ago, I kept a healthy distance in the line, and I paid for it in calories, needing to compensate for the gap with my own strength.  However, over time, I’ve come to trust these two inherently.  It’s not uncommon for us to ride with only a few inches of space between our tires at speeds exceeding 20 mph.  And it struck me today, how if I could only trust Christ this much with my life, when I so haphazardly trust my friends with it every single day.

There have been other parallels on the road.  The seemingly endless climbs, when you’re reduced to staring at the chunk of pavement directly below your front tire, and just keep churning away at the pedals:  never give up.  There are times when nothing seems fair – when you’re caught in a downpour, and the rain’s soaking you from above and water’s soaking you from the rear tire of the rider in front, and you’re breathing hard, but you can’t keep your mouth open because the spray tastes of oil and antifreeze and the nearest pile of road kill that’s been sloshed free, and a semi passes inches from your bike, enveloping you in a fine mist, and you’re only five miles into the fifty mile ride, and you can’t believe you’re only going eight miles an hour.  That’s when you have to laugh.  God puts us in these types of situations for a reason.

We’ve crossed landscapes of astounding beauty, but witnessed the sides of roads littered feet deep in trash – images of perfection lost, of a soiled purity.  We’ve met individuals of great kindness, humility, and displaying a great passion for servant hood.  But yet, everyday, we’re honked at on the road, yelled at, belittled.  Even just yesterday, someone in a vehicle threw a piece of metal from their car window and hit me in the back of the head while I was making my way through Chattanooga.  It’s all been a reminder that the way we live our lives has numerous and indeterminable consequences, for both the purposes of building up, or for breaking down. 

In the end, I feel that “faith in action” has invariably become the de facto motto of this trip. Whether it’s by coming together on a build, by spreading the message of our housing movement to those we meet, or simply by encountering road rage on a daily basis, it’s how we roll.  In the end, I believe worldview strengthens us; it’s why I think the Fuller Center will continue to see growth on all fronts of its ministry, and why each one of us will walk away from this trip a better person.  Every mile down, every spin of the pedals, is moving us closer to a higher goal.  And personally, I can’t wait to see the end result.

Thank you again for allowing me some room to air my thoughts about our trek, and for your continued support and prayers concerning our safety and cause.

God bless.

P.S.  I’d also like to extend a welcome and congratulations to our newest rider, Becky Akton, who joined us yesterday in Chattanooga.  She weathered her first day of riding through the rain like a pro.  Great job Becky!

written by: Thad Wontor

photos by: Esther Hyejin Chung