“I’m not going on the World Race. At least not right now. Maybe not ever.”
“What are you even talking about? I thought you were called. What are you going to do instead?”
I scrambled to make up some justification about how I was called, but possibly in the same way as Abraham was called to sacrifice Isaac. It was bullcrap and I knew it. I suspect Kelley knew it too, but the truth is that I hadn’t processed the situation enough to actually know what was going on, or where my calling really was. Everybody else sort of empathized with me, but Kelley was the first friend to call me out. I’m glad all the people I talked to before her told me they understood and supported me in my decision (even if they felt the way she did), because if they had all called me out the way she did, I may have reacted bitterly and walked away from it altogether. Their reactions of support, prayer and love were needed.
After all though, she was right: I’d been called.
For most of my life in ministry, the biggest complaint against me had been that I make shortsighted decisions. Often for an array of reasons, (fun, cool, even godly) and no matter how right they were, I often went about them in an immature manner making even the right decisions bad ones. I feared that in going on the World Race, I was making a godly, right, loving decision, but I was making it immaturely and ultimately, badly. What was I supposed to do? I’d been called.
After an underwhelming fundraising trip to California, I was sure that the reason for the lack of giving was because of my own over-planning. I worked out so many details for that trip, and hadn’t relied on God to set divine appointments for me. I did so much work and saw so little reward. I felt like I had been sold a bill of goods and wanted to punch the salesman. I sold it to myself. The fact about the Race for me is that it is the first time in my life that I am faced with a challenge that I can’t do alone. Every other obstacle I’ve ever encountered has been doable under my own strength, planning, and wisdom. How was I supposed to go about this whole thing without doing it my way? Hadn’t I been called?
I made my initial decision to go through prayer and fasting. The decision not to was based in the wisdom God has given me. Human wisdom dictates that you don’t do things because they’re fun or even good things if they are going to screw you over in the future. I wanted to prove wrong those who called me hasty in decision-making. Rather than looking for a mature, responsible way to do what God had called me to do, I looked for a way to show my mentors that I was more mature than when they initially called me immature. By making an immature decision. And by making it hastily. By showing them that they were and still are right.
The sad fact is that I wanted to impress the talking heads of my life with my wisdom. I wanted to earn the respect of the people I respect. I wanted to please man.
The wisdom of God is foolishness to man.
While I still respect those men and women, I honestly don’t really care what they think of me. All I really want anyone to know about me is that I know God, I love God, and I listen to God.
So, I prayed. I prayed that God would show me how to go on the World Race. I was obviously still called, because in my flesh, I would never want to do something of this magnitude. I would never want to spend a year of my life serving other people. I would never want to make myself poor. I would never want to make myself vulnerable with people I don’t know. I like a handful of kids individually, but I don’t love kids. Why would I ever volunteer to do all these things in a ministry around the world that I wouldn’t want (in my flesh) to do in a ministry here at home? I wouldn’t. The wonderful fact is that I’ve been called.
I’ve been called to serve the least of these.
I’ve been called to make myself poor.
I’ve been called to be vulnerable with strangers.
I’ve been called to love kids around the world.
I’ve been called and I couldn’t be more excited about it. I can’t wait to serve the people in these countries. I can’t wait to be poor(er than I am). I can’t wait to be vulnerable. I can’t wait to love on those kids. I can’t wait to be met, broken, and mended by my Abba. I can’t wait.
I am still foolish. I am still immature. I am still hasty. I am still called.
