June 5, 2025

There is something about extremes isn’t there? Tallest, deepest, furthest. If it gets a superlative attached someone has probably already attempted it or is planning to.

We humans have always had a thing for the end of the earth. The North Pole, The South Pole, the mystical places of this earth. This obsession with the edges is not only about where we go but how we think. We are trained to aim for the extreme. To dream of Mt. Everest, not the valley. Dive to the depths of the ocean, not just wade in the shallow part. We talk about polar opposites, black or white, right or wrong. There is a romance to the edge, it feels brave, bold, a little dangerous. And let’s be honest, it’s a lot more interesting to talk about at dinner parties versus being temperate or moderate.

But what if we are missing something? What if the most satisfying parts of life are not found at the edges, but in the middle. While everyone is trying to live on the edge, the real joy may be found in the middle. I’m not saying don’t chase adventure, but there is also value in exploring the center, The center is where life actually happens. If we can learn to love the middle, we might discover that we have been standing in something extradentary all along.

So why are we drawn to the extremes? The clarity, its simple, a target, a goal to set a record to break. Extremes give us defined parameters even if they are difficult to reach. We love stories with clear outcomes. We’re raised to achieve, to strive. Honor Roll certificates, SAT scores, class rank, prestigious universities all serve to distinguish us. Bottom lines, performance reviews, beating last quarters numbers, having a seat at the table or better yet building your own table are earmarks of success. Nothing is worse than not knowing what you want and killing yourself to get it, yet many do exactly that. We are taught to be the athlete going faster than anyone else. The middle on the other hand never makes the headlines. There is no medal you get for climbing only halfway up Everest.

But here’s the thing. The hunger for extremes, although inspiring, can make you start to believe that only the extremes matter. Unless we are #1, the best, we haven’t done enough. Sometimes the most profound discovery comes not from searching for outside recognition, but from looking inside. Stop, take a breath and decide not to go further may be the best decision of all. Extremes are loud, they have slogans, they yell across the table at you. If we take a moment and stop chasing the extremes we might find the extradentary in the ordinary.

A path of moderation is not bad. You can convince yourself that you are going the right way just because you are moving. Direction without context isn’t clarity it is just motion. But isn’t striving to perform what everyone is doing? Perhaps. Just because you’re not wrong doesn’t mean that you are right. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is not to go further but to stop, step back from the edge and to ask, “Where am I really?” Because life isn’t lived in extremes.

Well, this must sound quite contradictory from someone who has spent the last 133 days away from home on a “Pole-to Pole” voyage exploring the heights and depths of our planet. I have learned a long time ago that home doesn’t always sit in one place, sometimes it follows you, who you are with, where you rest your head and next morning’s sunrise overtime the location becomes blurred. You stop checking your watch, you stop asking the time zone because eventually it doesn’t matter where you are it matters who you are.

The stories of our life are not just passed down sometimes they are picked up along the way. The past isn’t just what happened it is what we choose to remember. It’s what we choose to retell and sometimes it is what our memories choose to recall over time.

Maybe, most beautifully, home becomes clearer the further you are from it. When you’re away long enough, home stops being a set of coordinates but starts being a feeling. It’s those familiar habits, a morning routine you didn’t realize you missed until it wasn’t there, an unexpected call from someone you love or waving at your neighbor as you pick up your mail. A chance to love home not by being in it but noticing its shape in its absence.

As we prepare to disembark from this part of our Hope for Today journey, I ask myself “What is the purpose of my travel”? I have always thought what a shame it would be if we were waiting for God to say something while He’s been waiting on us to do something. He has always spoken to me the loudest on the way. Simply put, if I wanted more faith, I needed to do more of His stuff. Jesus never asked anyone to play it safe. We were born to be brave. So, I thought it would be best to trust Him and take Him at His word, so I set out to see God’s hand at work around the world. I am pleased to report that He has been faithful. But if this travel doesn’t serve to make me a better man, husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle and friend than it has served no purpose at all. Sometimes when I look out on the sea and feel that quiet aching in my heart for those I love I feel recommitted to their wellbeing. It is not a matter of bringing them my “best” it is a matter of bringing them myself.

The man God intended for me to be.

Thanks for traveling with us.