With Cambodia officially being in the books, I want to sum it up. I could continue to write about what I am doing and who I’ve met, and I will in future posts, but right now, I’m not going to. The process of thought and personal growth requires going beneath the surface. It requires vulnerability, and that is scary. Without vulnerability human connection is weak, and shame flourishes. Speaking out is about speaking up despite the gremlins that are gnawing at the pit of your stomach and drumming on your heart.
So here it goes.
I’m not sure where I am. That’s right. I don’t know.
Month 1 was hard. Spiritual warfare was all too real, and adjusting required a bit more than I expected. Usually, I am a very self-aware individual. I can figure out why I feel a certain way, and I logic my way into fixing the problem. It’s great until you find yourself on a yearlong journey that doesn’t follow the guidelines of logic and thrives on abandonment and discomfort.
Oh hello, World Race, it’s nice to meet you. You looked a little different in my dreams.
Away from the comfort of cute coffee shops, friends, and my kitchen, I have to face reality out here—emotionally and spiritually. I have to confront the lies I don’t know exist because coffee shops (and good coffee) are not always close by, my friends are on the other side of the world living life 13 hours behind me, and I can’t bake to get away from it all.
Yes, I knew going into the race those things wouldn’t be available, but it is one thing to know and another to experience. I found ways to distract myself and forget I needed to think about the hard stuff. I avoided processing what was necessary. Back home I might not have known exactly where I was, but I knew just enough to get by.
Last Saturday was the first time I admitted I had no Idea where I was or where I was going. It was night one of debrief (a time to collect thoughts and rejuvenate before going back into ministry), and after a quick talk on vulnerability the floor opened up to my squad as we were encouraged to share the hard things with each other.
I immediately felt the gremlins. I felt Jesus whisper “you have to take this step of courage. Step out in boldness or your shame will never be brought to light.” I didn’t want to. Speaking in front of people is terrifying enough, but to share my soul… ha! No thank you. I could feel the tension and anxiety, and my teammate sitting next to me could visibly see it. The moment came, and I shared where I was at. I shared my struggle in feeling known. I told all of my squad mates and leaders I didn’t feel like my slightly awkward and unique self. My “Crysahnaisms” have been nonexistent, and I can’t tell you why; they just are.
I’m not going to say that sharing fixed the problem and all the feelings have flown away because they didn’t. Sharing did however bring shame to light. How can healing and growth happen if I’m not open about where I can grow and where I need healing?
In Cambodia, I was not vulnerable. I tried to avoid hard things, but it wasn’t until I was at debrief that I realized there is still stuff that needs to be hashed out. There is more growth to encourage. Cambodia wasn’t a bad month, but I barley touched the giant waters of what was inside of me. I didn’t dare greatly and lean into what was hard or uncomfortable. Part of the reason was because I didn’t want “I don’t know what’s going on” to be my answer, and the other part I’m still figuring out. It’s hard work, but the result is worth it, and in the beautiful words of Brene Brown “the result of daring greatly isn’t a victory march as much as it is a quite sense of freedom mixed with a little battle fatigue.”
Going into month 2, this is my prayer. I want to continue to dig deeper in to my current “I don’t know” state. I want to believe I’m known and to continue stepping out in who God made me to be.
I think Psalms 13 is a perfect explanation of where my head has been, and despite everything that happens, I find rest in Him.
1 How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? 3 Look on me and answer, Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death,4 and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall.5 But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.6 I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.
