College sports is one of the most peculiar oddities of American culture that I have experienced. I don’t understand it at all, but I do love it.

And so I will wear my burnt orange and hold my hookem horns up high, but make no mistake, that while I cheer, I’ll be asking myself … but why?

As I write this, the sun is rising over a cold Texas morning and I cannot help but think of how similar Texas winter days are to Johannesburg winter days. Frosty ground on dormant grass, with big blue skies overhead which seem to reflect the cold rather than offer the warmth that the unhindered access to the sun would usually afford. The day is just beginning here, and I know that it is ending for my friends across the globe. The Lord made the day for me just as He did for them, and He gifts the grace and mercies that we will need to begin this day as He does for those whose day is winding down.

What a big and small world. What grace to call more than one place home.

What we have realized is that to arrive somewhere is simultaneously to leave somewhere else, and in order to be immigrants to somewhere you also have to be emigrants from somewhere else. Our desire therefore hasn’t just been to be good arrivers in a new place, but also to be good leavers of our previous place.