I get it now. I get it how someone can spend months preparing, fundraise thousands of dollars, be on the field for months, and go home. I get it. And a few times, I considered it.
The World Race is hard. It’s more than artsy Instagram photos and stories of adventure. It’s scary moments, unknown food that sends you to bed hungry, crammed living conditions, and total discomfort.
I want to drive in my car with the windows down screaming along to Callin’ Baton Rouge at the top of my lungs. I want to sleep in a real bed with the ac blowing in my face. I want to go to a grocery store and actually understand what the labels on the shelves say.
I knew these would all be challenges and I had prepared for these, or so I thought. These last few weeks have been hard on me. I have felt useless and without a purpose. I have been hot and sweaty without relief. I have felt drained and prayed to God to fill me back up leaving Peru. I prayed that Africa would be a fresh slate, a new start, a recharging. So far, that hasn’t been the case.
We had a little bit of a rocky start here in Côte d’Ivoire. For many reasons, my team and I had to leave our ministry site after only 3 days and return to the capital, Abidjan. We joined another team that was already here and waited until we found our next ministry site for the month. I felt uneasy and anxious about what our next step would be and I think it’s because I started hanging my hope in our ministry and not in Him.
After a few days, we were asked if we wanted to participate in a ministry where we went out to the Ports and evangelized to primarily Muslim trucker drivers. I felt sudden excitement in my heart and immediately wanted to go. Don’t get me wrong, I had never done something like this before and it scared me a lot, but it was a good scared. A scared where you feel like something incredible is going to happen and God will show up amazingly. THIS is why I came on the Race.
So I got up, got dressed, and headed out on what I hoped was a grand adventure. We took a cab part of the way and walked the rest (apparently the traffic is NEVER that bad, another thing my team and I encounter a lot: unusually difficult situations). We started talking to a group of young men who were no more than 18 and asking them about their religion and were sharing about ours. About 30 minutes into the conversation, I started to feel extremely tired and then I felt myself start to sway and then suddenly I could feel my vision constricting. I said out loud “okay I don’t feel good, I need help” and I was immediately sat down and my team started pouring water over my head and down my neck. For a second there, I was really scared and then, I got angry.
Angry that everything has been so hard and so draining. I felt tears start flowing down my face because I was a) embarrassed to pass out in a crowd and have to be caught and drenched in water and b) I was so frustrated. Frustrated that ministry wasn’t what I thought it would be. Frustrated that I still haven’t had the “ah-ha” moment of being on the race. Frustrated that I felt I had gone from drained, to deflated, to defeated. I prayed that I felt like I had a giant target on my back and the enemy just kept hitting bullseyes. At that moment, I wanted to go home.
I wanted to leave West Africa forever and get on a plane headed for the United States. Back to the familiar and the easy. Back to my family, my friends, and my boyfriend. Back to where I didn’t feel like the enemy had his bow and arrow with such great aim.
But then I felt God remind me of what I have heard before, if the enemy is attacking you hard, it’s because he’s afraid of what you can do and what God can do through you.
So yes, I get the desire to leave and I’ve had it myself. But I also have the desire to see what the Lord has planned for me that has enemy using all his arrows on me. It’s going to take a lot more than changed plans and port-side pass outs to stop me from running after Him.
