STEADY MY FEET! READY MY FAITH!
You never know what adventure will look like or where it will take you in life. Following Christ is an unmatched adventure that lasts a lifetime. It sometimes requires crossing oceans or simply driving down roads to see what’s down them, and eating in places you’ve never been to lean into stories carried by people you’ve never met. The World Race is both a journey with the Father to the nations, and an adventure alongside people within a community of image bearers chosen for you.
Month one was the start to the adventure of living in community, a beautiful and broken sleepover that never ends…until it does. India was our first teacher. Belongings meshed against belongings, bucket showers, bodies in close quarters, bugs, and heat. Pregnant with possibilities for quarrels. All glory to the God of restoration. For most racers, the adventure navigating community is the hardest part of the race. But before long, adventure takes a different shape and boy does it shape you.
Month two arrived, having survived India; our squad losing the equivalent of a person in the form of sweat. The nation we were certain we’d have to skip in the aftermath of April’s devastation, Nepal, was anxiously awaiting our arrival. My faith was ready, but with the foundation uncertain, my feet were hesitant to travel the path before me. We endured daily aftershocks or mini earthquakes, but nothing compared to the nightmare the Nepali people were walking out of. It was all squad month, and we were about to climb a mountain together to proclaim the gospel over this nation. I remember the moment it became a part of me. Over and over the same six words passed through my lips with one intended audience,
“Steady my feet. Ready my faith.” I just blurted it out without thinking much of it, seeing the obstacles that lay ahead, and choosing to praise Him in advance for keeping me from falling. There we were in Kathmandu, Nepal, climbing to the top of a mountain where we would come face to face with hope, or so it was believed. Hope for a child came through visiting a temple with a fertility god. And here I was believing Jesus was enough. Uneven ground compelled me to chant this phrase, but by faith in doing so I was claiming both as promises fulfilled. Steadied my feet were and readied my faith was. Once at the top, we found reminders of our broken world built in minds of empty belief and the earthquakes had certainly made themselves known. On our way back, once again, this phrase traveled with me as I maneuvered my way down rocks that led to a waterfall, and thus photo ops. At the end of the month, adventure took flight. Mount Everest, was like a glimpse of Heaven. A small adventure if you will. Everest, the dream of seeing it up close, was realized in all its splendor. Three attempts, three planes, and three pilots later, the clouds gave birth to beauty that left me speechless. Entrusting the pilot with my life, I was above the clouds taking a front row seat as the mountains played peek-a-boo with the cotton beneath them. Each one had a name and a nation from which they could be seen. Nothing in life thus far, had ever compared to such a sight.
Month three and four brought encounters with tigers and the bathing of elephants after visiting Angkor Wat and crocodile waters in floating villages. “Steady my feet. Ready my faith,” as I walked thin planks from shore to dock. Being in the midst of wildlife such as these was like being ushered into the presence of greatness. Hanging out in the animal kingdom with tigers, I took selfies with royalty, followed by playtime and unplanned massages for the cubs. We were not to ride the elephants, but bathing this giant creation, this masterpiece of a creature, led to a trunk ride and feeding time. Officially my favorite animal to play with. Cambodia and Thailand night life was an adventure in and of itself. So many temples to see during the day, shops to visit at night, and food to sample along the way. Let’s be honest, I could write a book about the adventures of Asian food. We all could.
Month five brought a new found freedom having men on my team, and led us on a whim for a little adventure through the jungle in unchartered territory to the furthest western point of Penang Island. We rented scooters and only two of the six in my team knew how to drive one. We winded our way up the mountain. I kept thinking surely God will protect us where there were no guardrails in sight, the ground beneath us muddied, and not only uneven ground, but tall plant life with rocks unseen lying just beneath our feet. Once again, no longer mounting a scooter, the same phrase flowed from my lips, “Steady my feet. Ready my faith.” Amazed they were to see the risks I was willing to take with my camera, but memories I did capture. The downpour came and yet my faith unwavering. By far our most exciting team adventure as newlyweds. Alone, I also set out on a trishaw to get lost in Malaysian street art…and the venture was a success as I lost myself in the handiwork of each artist.
Month six was all things sand. Our team got to not only hit the beach and camp in Swakopmund, but oil up a few boards and body surf the dunes. With a buff over my face in this Unsung month, and the youth of Namibia watching, I barreled down, or more like skidded down the dunes. Sadly, though I went twice, nobody got it on camera. On the way to the dunes, I hitched a ride with leaders in a truck that would successfully get stuck and require much digging and a few phone a friend moments. All in the name of fun and Jesus of course. Climbing back into the truck we bypassed the road and traveled the shore with endangered wildlife and perfect photo shoots. Days later, my team and I took the camels for a stroll through the desert. Every day was a new adventure in Namibia.
Month seven brought the ascent of Table Mountain, Cape of Good Hope, and Cape Point. I think playtime with penguins also falls under adventure. We had just survived five fires as the mountain ridge surrounding our home in Ocean View was in flames for days. Our belongings were covered in ash and our lungs starting to feel the impact. The coals still worried the community for several nights after the rasta camp burned to the ground. Not five minutes had past and I was exhausted, my lungs filled with soot and ash. But I knew I was in shape, so I put one foot in front of the other, and like a dance, I trusted His lead. This climb was in no way easy and every inch required faith that the rocks would hold me and cling to their foundation as I clinged to mine. Blessed I was to have Fungai by my side, the hand I reached for as my Father hired out that day. My brothers had gone on ahead but I was in good hands. Rocks could so easily slip out from under me and the wind picked up on the way down, but in my pocket I had carried that phrase and clung to it. “Steady my feet. Ready my faith.” Of all the places thus far, it was here I repeat it most. It took close to three hours to climb this wonder of the world, but my guide was ever so patient with me. In him I saw awareness and the tapping into of every fruit of the Spirit. Love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self control all present and accounted for. This climb now carries the greatest story I have to tell from the race, changing the trajectory of my life. He gets all the glory in my story. He is mighty to be praised. I felt my Father in Heaven near, right there in South Africa. Waiting on me in times I slowed down, and behind me holding all things together. A week later our team climbed Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point. I do not scale walls, but I claim the promise that with my God I can scale any wall. In order to see Cape Point, one must climb rocks unlike anything you find as a kid in the sandbox. If you let them, they will intimidate you. With the peace of God upon me, and the ocean beneath me, I climbed, with my phrase by my side, “Steady my feet. Ready my faith.” Some of my team scaling with more risk than I. A blanket of rolling green grass covered rock, down flights of stairs to a sandy paradise, returning later to find more rocks waiting to greet my sweaty self. The view of the married waters, breathtaking. Another adventure for the books.
I had found community life to be an adventure and all things outside or able to eat me, but in His kindness coupled with my stupidity, I was introduced to one last form of adventure. I opened our front door, and seeing the steps crowded, I stepped off to the left, only I really stepped off and wrong. Shock set in as I felt the sprain and heard the crunch. Cue urge to vomit and cry…but I aced both and avoided them. With an unwanted tennis ball-like growth on my ankle, and my feet no longer trustworthy, I tapped into, “Ready my faith.” I believed God had healed me and I was waiting for eyes to see it. My teammates took me on a new adventure, where I let myself be tucked in and told bedtime stories. I let them put ace bandages on, fetch ice, time my RICE, and carry my things. I let my brother Aaron carry me to the taxi and Fungai gave me a broom handle-like stick to walk with. I lightened my pack in South Africa, and haled Uber rides for days. My brother Josh carried my pack through the airport. The swelling still shows up from time to time, a month later, but I was walking without pain after three days, and opting in to this unexpected adventure of dependency on my team.
Month eight is where I leave you and head off to the Caribbean for more adventure, reminding you that no matter what your next adventure looks like or where it takes you, you can always call on the one who can steady your feet and ready your faith. It’s a promise that’s yours to claim. Here in Swaziland the roads are littered with glass, the muddy gravel roads weathered by the rain, and the hills quickly give way with loose rock, but even when my feet don’t feel ready for the next step, there’s a shoulder to grab, a hand to hold, and one willing to linger sacrificing her pace. My faith still unwavering and readied. My eyes awaiting the sight of fully healed. I can tell you that I live a life worth telling stories about, and adventure not only takes many shapes, but it never fails to shape you. Let it! Welcome it! And always…let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story!
