I think I laughed at him then. Neither of us had ridden a bike since middle school and at that time I didn't have any particular plans to start again. But that was a year ago. 4,000 miles, 13 states, and 12 weeks later, I'm back at school, trying to process all that I saw and experienced this summer.

We were a group of six: two women and four men, two recent graduates, three seniors, and one junior. Our majors were as diverse as our interests. We started out on May 25 in San Francisco, CA and ended August 17 in Quincy, MA.

The idea was to stop at Covenant churches along the way and speak about two charities, Acirfa (www.abikes.org) and Spark Ventures (www.sparkventures.org), and to talk about social justice in the church. Acirfa is an organization that donates bicycles to citizens of Zambia, providing a way for pastors and doctors to reach more people in need. Spark Ventures provides food, education, and health care to at-risk children in Zambia through a child sponsorship program.

Last summer, I spent 2 weeks in Zambia volunteering with Spark Ventures. My time there was both inspiring and heartbreaking and provided the impetus for me to decide to get back on a bike for the first time since I was 15 years old. I wanted to share my passion for the children there and to see what I could do to help.

It all sounded like a great idea until we were actually out on the road, confronted with the physical hardships of facing brutal headwinds in Nevada, climbing 10,000-foot mountain passes in Colorado, enduring searing heat and humidity on the plains, and being humbled by 2 weeks of relentless rain in New York and Massachusetts. Of course there were thousands of incredible experiences, but there were plenty of times each day when the trip simply seemed much harder than I had anticipated.

When we got to Massachusetts, somebody asked us if it was all worth it. It was a funny question that I hadn't really contemplated much. I was committed to the trip and knew that I was going to make it to the Atlantic no matter what. Quitting wasn't much of an option. So it was odd to hear such a simple, yet fitting question: was it worth it?

It was worth it if we were more than a novelty to the people we met. So many times, we rolled into a church and had conversations that seemed all too easy to forget and I found myself wondering quite often whether we would be remembered as the ones who did something crazy and weird or as the students who called people to radical discipleship. Would we be remembered for our act or for our message?

I hope we're remembered for our message. The fact is that we rode because people starve to death and we can do something about it. We rode because people are discriminated against or ignored because of their skin color and the church is supposed to be a diverse voice for love. We rode because there are people who think the gospel is about simply believing the right things and going to heaven and nothing more when Christ is calling us to a life of radical love on the streets of the Zambia, Costa Rica, and Haiti. He is calling us to radical love on the streets of Chicago. He is calling us to radical love on the streets of Libertyville.

SSo, was it worth it? It was worth it if we will be remembered as the ones who pointed away from ourselves and towards the suffering. I'm satisfied if our visits encouraged people to look more deeply at the heart of Christ, realizing that He lives with the poor and the downtrodden.

I'd like to thank everyone at Libertyville who came out to our event at church in July. We enjoyed our conversation and it was good to be home.