(Another lesson I learned at training camp was to keep our blog posts less than 1000 words… okay, they said 500 words. This blog isn't that, so if you’re short on time, focus on the bold passages. They catch some highlights.)
I was too shocked to sleep Saturday night, the 12th. I lay in my tent surrounded by the vague silhouette of my gear. I turned on my iPod. But neither Lord of the Rings audiobooks nor Gregorian chants had a chance of interrupting my new mantra: “What have I done?”
I’ve known from the start that some racers switch routes before the Race, and that I wouldn't be one of them. I loved B Squad. It had the countries I’ve always wanted to see. The people were great. Our color was orange, and I have an orange yoga mat. I was meant for this squad. I was going to go to South Africa, Swaziland, Mozambique, India, Nepal, Malaysia, Vietnam, Cambodia, Ireland, Ukraine, and Romania next year.
In the history of World Racers, never have there been so many participants that a fifth route has been created. Usually, if gender ratios are off or one squad has more people than another, racers just shuffle around and it works out.
But there were so many January ’14 racers that it made the most sense to create an entirely new squad that would go to 11 entirely different countries. This new squad would consist of Racers that had already been accepted on the original 4 squads and had volunteered to change their routes. When I got an email about the formation of Squad C, I hesitated for a long moment before dismissing the matter: I was crazy about my route. These were my countries. Someone else would switch. I’d stay where I was.
Another email asking for volunteers came a week later. This time I paused a little longer and wondered if God wanted me to make the change, or if I was just giving myself a guilt trip.
“All right, God. I’ll make you a little deal,” I said (a dangerous move: when I tell God I’m making “a little deal,” things never turn out like I plan. An annoying and exhilarating quirk of the Almighty). “I’m not switching to C Squad. But if you give me one more opportunity, I’ll, uh…” my bargaining fizzled out. “Um… maybe I’ll do it.”
On Saturday the 12th, the first night of training camp, B Squad gathered in the camp’s dining hall. Bill Swan, one of the World Race head honchos, said, “I think you all know why I’m here. B Squad is the biggest squad and it has too many people for you all to be adequately taken care of. I need three women and three men to move to C Squad tonight. You have 3 minutes to decide, and if at the end of 3 minutes no one comes forwards, we’re drawing names.”
I didn’t need 3 minutes. It was suddenly, gut-wrenchingly clear: I would move. I stared at the table. I pulled my Bible out and thumbed through it to seem thoughtful and keep all my objections at bay:
But what about my t-shirts? They’ll list the wrong countries now. What about my supporters? They’ll be confused. What about my route? I really wanted to go to those places. Where the heck is C Squad going anyway? I haven’t paid much attention… aren’t they going to Central America? I don't think I want to go to Central America. God, why is this happening? Am I not giving up enough for you already?
Despite the objections, I knew I was switching. And it wasn't because God wouldn’t do amazing things with B Squad. Actually, I know God doesn’t need me to be on any particular squad, or even on the World Race. God uses every place we go and decision we make.
No, the big reason for switching had to do with that last protest: I thought I was giving up enough already.
I thought: I am giving up so much to do this trip: stuff, people, comfort, employment, the piano. Isn’t that good enough? I think I’m making a pretty impressive sacrifice already. Is it really too much to ask that I at least get to choose where I go?
Answer: it’s too little to ask that I get to choose where I go. After deciding to switch, I knew I’d been trusting too much in one thing–my itinerary–to make my trip great, rather than the God who put me on it in the first place. God's love and hope for the countries goes deeper than our preferences.
It was this “one thing” that was especially hard for me to give up. Everyone has that “one thing.” Once this really great, rich, probably good-looking guy approached Jesus and asked what he needed to do to inherit eternal life. Jesus told him to honor his parents, and not murder or steal or lie or commit adultery. And the guy said he already did all that.
But instead of saying "Lovely! You've done enough; you're good to go," Jesus said, “You still lack something. Sell everything you have and give it to the poor, and you’ll have treasure in heaven. And then come follow me.”
Notice that Jesus says, “You lack something.” At first glance, I'd say that man was not lacking, physically or spiritually. It seems like his heart was in the right place and he happened to also have money. Yet his wealth, though not a bad thing in itself, ended up being the thing that made him go away sadly from Jesus, because he could not give it up.
This is how I felt: yes, I was doing lots of good stuff, but I still held onto that one thing: 11 dream destinations. What a shabby, uncreative hope to cling to. Countries often change on the Race. No one ever guaranteed I could go to these countries in the first place. I was missing out on something. Like the chance to trade my preferences for the sake of seeing, loving, and calling home the parts of God’s beloved earth I never expected or cared to visit. And the chance to see the world like God sees it.
Back to the action. I was staring determinedly at the table when Bill said, "We're good on girls."
What?
I looked up: while I'd been fake-reading my Bible, three girls from B Squad had come to the front of the room. I thought we were supposed to wait for the three minutes to be up to volunteer, but apparently not. C Squad didn't need any more women. No men had come up though, so they drew names and three of our guys joined the girls up front and we all gathered to pray for them and say goodbye.
I'm safe, I thought. I didn't need to switch after all. Had I just passed a test?
Isn’t it funny, that I considered this safety? I mean, I was still leaving everything to go to 11 countries in 11 months… but at least I had a pretty good idea of what they were? How quickly we carve out comfort zones.
Something felt off as B Squad started praying. I peeled off and found myself telling someone I maybe, possibly, wanted to switch too. And then Bill pulled me aside and said it was up to me. I could stay or move. I just had to decide now. So I hesitated, and then I found myself saying "I think I'll switch" as casually as if I'd been asked to choose between a chocolate and vanilla shake.
I was ushered into the center of B Squad. People I'd known for less than 12 hours prayed and cried over us and hugged us. We were taken to a different room where C Squad had been sitting, waiting for their new members to join them. They were dressed in purple (no more orange) and were clapping and standing when we entered. People with names like Carly and Jacob and Christina shook our hands and hugged and thanked us.
As we headed to our tents that night, I asked someone, "So, where exactly are we going?"
"To bed," someone said.
"No," said another new C-Squad-er. "Next year, where are we going?"
Here's where we're going. Only 3 countries are the same as my original route: Malaysia, Cambodia, and Mozambique.
Honduras
Guatemala
El Salvador
Albania
Bulgaria
Malawi
Zambia
Mozambique
Thailand
Cambodia
Malaysia
Central America was never on B Squad's itinerary. Now it is: that means we are going to FOUR continents instead of three. All of these countries are new to me. A few of them I had to look for on a map. I don't think there's a single place on here I ever would have thought to travel. Until now.
It's been a few weeks since I made this switch, and I am so glad I did. But frankly, it has been a big sacrifice. I am sad that I don't get to go to Nepal or India anymore. I was so looking forward to seeing them. And the worst is that Ireland's off the list: I love that country. I feel at home in that country. My family's from that country. One of the sweetest things about World Race had been the prospect of going there and now it's gone, and I am disappointed by that.
Still, there's a new plan. I'm going to a whole bunch of new places with these crazy purple people. And I am so glad.
I leave on January 9 from Atlanta go our first country, Honduras.
In the meantime, I invite you to consider: what's your one thing? What's the one thing you need to have control over? For me it was my route. For the guy in Luke 18 it was his stuff.
That one thing is not worth clinging to, even if it's something nice. It's not permanent or guaranteed. And even though it's something you think you have, it's actually something you're lacking. Give it up. God would give you something bigger and better.
