The seafaring pirate has found their treasure and conquered the seas to come back home.
The wayfaring adventurer has discovered their lost lands and blazed the trails to come back home.
It’s over. The adventure has wound down and now it’s time to come home.
I reflect on the words I wrote the day I set out on this adventure, almost three months ago — (somewhere new, someplace safe: a prayer of departure)
We are the brave, sea sailing trusters of good things.
The hopeful ones, the curious and undaunted.
We step out into the horizon with invincible faith and trust in what we can’t see. We set sail on the seas of opportunity.
But what happens when we have to bring our tired feet back home? What happens when it’s finished? When we did the great things we set out to do, when we trusted God boldly and ruthlessly, when we stretched our trembling fingers toward hope and touched beauty, when we followed the curious itch of wanderers and found ourselves stronger than what we thought possible?
How do we climb down from the mountain where we touched God?
How do you possibly say goodbye when you experienced love and life and God and yourself in ways you never thought possible?
I feel the ache this evening as I travel home after the best summer of my life. I feel the ache as I reflect on all the loving people I leave behind; all the memories and lessons learned.
I know God has called me onward but this evening, my feet feel too tired and the road ahead is foggy. I feel as though I’m leaving behind so much goodness, being asked to trust a trail I cannot see.
Yes, Father. Onward. But I am tired and I am missing what is behind.
How do I come home after finding treasure?
How do I come home after conquering fears?
How do I come home after discovering pieces of myself I didn’t know were there?
Tonight I ponder —
Redefine my idea of treasure.
Yes, we are the brave, sea sailing trusters of good things and we can trust the good we cannot see.
Yes, we are the hopeful ones. The curious and undaunted. And we can stand solid in the path coming home, trusting steadily in the undying truth that it is God who calls us onward — not a shifty, lying thing but One who knows us best and loves us most.
God is my greatest adventure.
Jesus is my fullest life.
I am brave because he goes before and he stands behind. I trust in good things because I know the giver of good things. I am hopeful because he is my hope that does not disappoint.
I am coming home, but it’s not over. It’s far from over.
I get to spend the rest of my life learning who God is and who I am.
My prayer of coming home:
Jesus, you are my fullest life.
I have the courage to do great things because I am inhabited by the God of great things.
Lord, you are my home. You are my treasure. And you are everywhere — not just in what I leave behind but what I encounter next.
You are my home.
You are the greatest treasure of my life.
Lord, I trust you.