“I hope you’re having the trip of a lifetime!” they say. “You must be having so much fun! I can’t imagine some of the adventures you’re having!” they exclaim.
There’s a glamorous perception on the World Race. Sure, we post pictures of the beach, riding in the back of trucks, and the many mountains we are blessed to be surrounded by. We post about people being healed and people we fall in love with. I can see how a glamorous perception is created but, this is not an 11 month vacation.
Last month we held a youth event the Saturday before we left Honduras. We played games, performed a skit, the girls painted nails and the boys played xbox, we played volleyball and ate food. It was a picturesque day, one we could easily share with you about how great it was and how powerfully God moved, the stuff most people want to hear… Then there’s the part that’s not so glorious, the stuff God was in but didn’t miraculously fix…the hard things we face that we don’t always share.
We so often forget that we are in a war. A war that is already won, but with battles that we still must fight. It’s the end of our event, and a small crowd begins to gather outside of the fence/exit of the property. “There’s a girl crying, she wont tell me what is wrong. She’s hyperventilating and can’t breath, so we might need a doctor” says the 24 year old pastor. Nicky and I sit at the top of the property waiting to see how things turn out. “There’s too big of a crowd, we shouldn’t just add to the group.” we discussed, trying to convince ourselves we should stay out of it. We sit and try to hold a conversation, becoming distracted by the fact that the problem isn’t fixed. “We have to go” we said, as we stood from our chairs and walked down the drive to the outside gate. There she was, a 13 year old girl sitting on the ground leaned against the partial brick fence, crying so hard she can’t breathe. Nicky and I try o figure out what’s going on…”We don’t know, she wont talk to us.” We suggest the surrounding guys leave and I take a seat next to her. I put one arm behind her, bringing her closer to my shoulder, and I whisper “it’s okay. Jesus loves you. It’s okay. Jesus loves you. What’s wrong?” “Momma!” she screeches between the gasps of air she impatiently inhales. “I want to see my mom!” sobbing with tears pouring down her face,I attempt to remind her that all will be okay. She begins crying harder and louder as she began to foam out of her mouth. It was then that Nicky looked at me and with all the gentle assertion one can hold spoke, declaring action, “This is not just physical!” We began praying, as we did, she began vomiting. We prayed harder. Someone got a word that she was pregnant. Her friend, standing to the side, confirmed. This 13 year old girl was pregnant and kicked out of her house. Her “boyfriend” was a witch doctor in the mountains that surrounded the town and he had given her “medicine for the sickness.” About the time we found this out, the neighbor came and took this 13 year old to her moms house. She didn’t stay there. She ended up staying with her friend, and went to the front at church the next evening. God didn’t miraculously fix her life, re-organize it and make her heart whole in that time we were with her, but HE.IS.FAITHFUL.
That’s just one instance, one example, but the World Race is not a vacation. We are fighting multiple battles each and every day, battles that affect people and their relationship/view of God. As racers, we are warriors and servants, fighters and lovers. We get to see some beautiful, amazing, breathtaking sights and miracles everyday. We also get to see disgusting, hard, battles and struggles- everyday.
We live in a war zone, racers and everyone else. Wherever we are, we are fighting.
We fight that we may win the race, and we fight for others to see they can win the race… In fact, the race has already been won!
Life is beautiful, but it’s not glamorous. In the United States, Guatemala, Costa Rica, Thailand, the beach, the mountains, traveling, staying at home, the world race or not …. It’s beautiful wherever you are, but it is still a war zone.
With love,
Andie
