Close Enough to Taste, but Still Out of Reach
Whit and I are officially here long-term in South Africa.
And a few days ago… we hosted a short-term mission team.
That was a unique experience, because I’ve always been on the short-term team. I’ve never been the local person in the place the team was coming to.
And something became obvious almost immediately:
Short-term missions move at a completely different pace than long-term life.
It’s funny how you don’t see it coming… and then suddenly it’s so obvious you can’t unsee it.
Because at no point on your short-term mission trip did you have to take your kid to school and pick him up again. 😂
Short-term teams can go hard all day and run on adrenaline, purpose, and schedule.
Long-term missionaries have rhythms. Responsibilities. Real life. Health. Family. Rest. Recovery.
We either learn how to recharge well, or we burn out trying to keep up with a pace we were never designed to maintain.
But here’s what hit me most while that team was with us:
It wasn’t just the ministry moments that mattered, It was the in-between ones.
When Real Needs Show Up Fast
A few days ago, the township of Masiphumelele (Masi) was devastated by a fire.
Because of a friend of ours, we were able to get a small team into the area that burned and help with debris removal and the early work of rebuilding.
It was messy.
It was heavy.
It was real.
And then it started raining.
Rides got complicated.
Timelines shifted.
We left when we had the chance.
And like it often happens when you’re moving at this pace… we were left with an awkward amount of time before the next thing.
About 90 minutes.
Not enough time to start something big. Too much time to just sit somewhere and stare at a wall.
Just… this weird in-between window.
A “Once In A Lifetime” Moment You Can’t Enter
I was in the car with two young men, and I offered to show them my favorite beach nearby.
So I gave directions to a locals-only spot, and we ended up standing there together, watching waves roll in clean and perfect.
One of the guys, Samuel, started talking about how he meets God in the ocean.
And instantly, it brought me back to time I spent with Chad Dedmon.
Chad used to explain that surfing wasn’t him escaping mission.
It was his secret place.
It was where he connected with God.
Where he recalibrated.
Where he got direction.
Where he found out what he was supposed to do next.
Standing there beside Samuel, I could feel the ache …That hunger. Because he was staring at waves that would make any surfer’s heart beat fast, But he didn’t have a wetsuit. He didn’t have a board. He didn’t have the gear.
He was in a once-in-a-lifetime location on the other side of the world from home…
Close enough to touch the waves, But still locked out of the experience his spirit was craving.
Rally Points Aren’t Just Beds
Moments like that soften me. They remind me why Rally Point Network exists. Because rest and recovery doesn’t just mean a bed to sleep in or a couch to lay on. Sometimes recharge is riding a wave. Sometimes recharge is standing on a mountain and remembering you’re small in the best way. Sometimes recharge is laughing with friends on a pickleball court.
Sometimes recharge is having access to the thing that reconnects you to Jesus and puts air back in your soul.
And the crazy part is, those experiences are often both far from home…
…and right there.
Close enough to see.
Close enough to taste.
But still out of reach because they lack access.
And I believe solving that problem actually matters, not just for comfort, but for sustainability. For longevity. For hearing God clearly. For staying emotionally steady when ministry is heavy. For having something real to draw from when the next assignment comes… 90 minutes later.
That’s what Rally Point Network is about.
A place to rest.
And a place to recover the part of you that carries the mission.
