I’m currently sitting here at the table of a small coffee shop in East Tennessee, savoring each glorious sip of coffee I take as I try to piece together everything that happened over the last ten days. I just returned from World Race Training Camp in Gainesville, Georgia where I had the opportunity to meet my 54 squad mates along with four squad leaders, one squad mentor, and two squad coaches in preparation for these next 11 months–or really, the rest of our lives.
Where do I even begin? I’m going to do my best to write this in a way that makes sense to you; but if I’m being honest, none of this really makes much sense anyways. But I guess you already knew that. It doesn’t make sense that I would choose to leave my stable career, my comfortable home, and my loving family to spend a year of uncertainty with a bunch of people I don’t even know–but I am. It doesn’t make sense how much I already love these people and how much they’ve already impacted me–but they have. But then again, maybe this does make sense. Maybe this makes more sense than anything else in my entire life.
So let’s talk about training camp.
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Training camp was hard.
The first night I lay awake in my tiny two-person tent, tossing and turning underneath the heavy Georgia heat that hung over me like a thick, sticky blanket, and allowed the reality of it all to sink deep into my skin. What was I getting myself into? I tried not to think about the spider I’d lost sight of earlier that night; surely it was still crawling (actually, jumping) around somewhere inside my tent. This was so far from glamorous. I was already missing my family and my comfortable bed. It all of a sudden became so real. Don’t get me wrong–my squad was super cool and all; but these people didn’t know me. I felt alone. I felt afraid. I started to seriously doubt whether I’d be able to do this for an entire year, and it was only the first night!
But as I lay there listening to the sounds around me–sleeping bags being zipped and unzipped and zipped again, the laughter that bounced from tent to tent when a very bear-like snore escaped from somewhere around us, the unfortunate sighs of frustration coming from the tent next to me as one of my squad mates came accross yet ANOTHER spider, and the slight panic that arose when that first trickle of rain began to fall over us–I couldn’t help but feel comforted in knowing that we were all in this together, and somehow that made it all OK.
But the days and nights that followed certainly didn’t come without challenges.
The sweat was constant, and no amount of bucket showers could stop it from escaping our pores. The food was unfamiliar and at times questionable. Make-up wasn’t even an option as it all melted away in the scorching sun, and to add to that I lost my mirror on the very first day; I felt completely bare. By day six, the introvert in me was yearning to retreat but the distractions were seemingly unceasing and unavoidable. My energy was drained–both physically and emotionally. I found myself crying alone in my tent on more than one occasion because I just didn’t want to be seen, until I realized there truly was nowhere to hide–not even there. And oh, how my soul longed for coffee.
But through the challenges we faced, there was growth. So much growth. All of these challenges brought us together in ways that just aren’t possible without the uncomfortable. Over the course of ten days, I experienced community like I’d never experienced it before–the kind of community we all long for. The kind that’s filled with grace and love and intentionality and boldness. I saw hearts forever changed and forever woven together in Christ. I saw pain and fear and passion and joy. I saw our leaders pour into us with everything in them. I saw ruin and restoration. I saw the grip of shame loosened and hardened hearts softened. I saw freedom. What I saw wasn’t perfect, but it was beautiful. I saw a glimpse of the Kingdom.
Training camp forced me to take a deeper look at myself. It helped me to begin to forgive what I thought I’d already forgiven, and taught me that forgiveness isn’t always that simple; it’s complicated and messy and beautiful and worth it. It showed me that tears don’t have to stay behind closed doors, and real relationships can’t happen without vulnerability–because it’s impossible to be fully loved without being fully seen and fully known. Over the course of ten days, I saw the walls I’d built up around myself begin to chip away, and I realized there’s no wall I could build that could keep the Father from seeing me, knowing me, and loving me. I felt the pure joy and peace that came with seeing my brothers and sisters worship freely and fully together as one body, and I knew in my heart that THIS is what we were created for.
I wrestled with the ugly lies of comparison, and saw how destructive it can be when we allow it to take hold of us. I struggled with the frustration of not hearing His voice, but found peace in knowing that that’s OK! Because tuning our hearts to Him isn’t something that happens overnight, and I get to spend the rest of my life running deeper and deeper into His outstretched arms. I came face to face with some of my biggest fears, along with the feelings of unworthiness and inadequacy that had been reigning in me, and ultimately came to accepting that this is the best place for me to be because His glory shines through our weaknesses. I have been made more confident in knowing and proclaiming that my Father delights in me because I am His daughter–carefully crafted in His image.
In ten days, I felt the Holy Spirit move in and through us in unexplainable ways, and I find myself awestruck in the realization that we’ve only just begun to scratch the surface. Guys, this is only the beginning of life on mission. Life on mission doesn’t just begin and end with the World Race. Life on mission is a lifelong endeavor of living with the sole purpose of knowing Him and making Him known. Life on mission is the reason you’re alive, and it’s the ONLY way you’ll find that sense of fulfillment you’re searching for. So maybe just embrace it.
Life on mission doesn’t have to happen on the other side of the world–it can happen right where you are. Wherever you may be, it means living with the confidence that the Kingdom of Heaven is in your midst.
It’s is already here; it’s already happening.
And it’s only just begun.
