The Journey Home

The text message read:

“There’s no parking in front of the hotel, so I’m driving around the block. When you see a vehicle flashing its headlights, run out and jump in.”

I was in Fulda, Germany.

After taking three different trains over two days to get there, I was exhausted. Someone in Germany had offered to donate a vehicle to one of our pastors in Ukraine to help with the work there, and because I had brought vehicles in before, I volunteered to handle it.

I had hoped to get some sleep on the trains, but that never happened. So now, at 9:00 that evening, I found myself in a foreign city, waiting outside a hotel to jump into a stranger’s car based solely on flashing headlights.

When I saw the headlights blink, I ran over, climbed in, introduced myself, and trusted I was in the right vehicle.

He drove me about twenty minutes to a traditional German pub, where I met several of his friends. They filled the table with food and drinks and spent the evening sharing about the work they were doing in Germany to spread the gospel. It was a reminder that God’s people are serving faithfully everywhere—even in places and ways we may never fully see. Late that night, I returned to the hotel and went to sleep thankful for one simple thing:

I did not have to listen for drones.

Early the next morning, we met again and spent the first part of the day preparing the vehicle. We changed all the tires, loaded spare tires into the back, and then stopped at two different grocery stores where my friend filled the passenger seat with pastries, drinks, and sandwiches for the trip.

Then I began the fourteen-hour drive toward the Polish-Ukrainian border.

Driving the German autobahn was a beautiful experience. Since it was not my vehicle, I kept it to a modest ninety-five miles per hour, but even at that speed the scenery was incredible. Castles sat high on mountain ridges, old villages passed in the distance, and the beauty of the landscape helped keep me awake despite my exhaustion.

Around 1:00 in the morning, I arrived at the border meeting point.

My contact would not arrive until 7:00 a.m.

The car was packed too full of supplies to recline the seats, so sleeping inside was nearly impossible. With nothing else to do, I walked around the small airport nearby through most of the night, waiting for the coffee shop to open so I could get something warm to drink.

Finally, around 7:00 that morning, my friend arrived and took me to the train station.

Four more hours on a train brought me back to Kraków, where I prepared for my flight home.

The mission was complete. The battery systems were installed. The vehicle was delivered.

The work had been accomplished.

Now it was time to go home and begin the recovery process.

Trips like this take more out of you than you realize in the moment. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, there is always a cost to walking through difficult places and carrying heavy burdens.

I knew coming home would not mean instant recovery.

But God is faithful. Even when exhaustion lingers. Even when emotions catch up after the adrenaline fades. Even when the weight of what was seen and experienced begins to settle in. He remains present. He remains good. And no matter how we feel after the difficult moments, He is still there—steady, faithful, and near.

As I reflected on the trip, I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude.

Gratitude for His protection.

Gratitude for His provision.

Gratitude for the pastors serving faithfully in impossible circumstances.

Gratitude that He allows us to play even a small part in what He is doing.

The mission was complete.

And once again, God had carried us through.