11 countries in 11 months.
That’s what I signed up for. When I came on this trip, I fully expected to make that famous mantra of the World Race a reality. I guess that was the problem though. I was EXPECTING.
The number one thing alumni racers engrain into our minds during training camp is to release any and all expectations we have for our upcoming year on the field. I was fully prepared to comply. I released my expectation to get along with my team. I released my expectation to figure out my life calling. I released my expectation to be fully funded. I released my expectation for everything to work out. I released my expectation to be on an epic adventure every single day. I even released my expectations to visit the very countries that made up our route. Plans get changed all the time, and I knew very well that our itinerary could be switched. In fact, it had been, twice before we even set out to launch. Nicaragua and El Salvador were switched to the Dominican Republic and Haiti, and Laos was changed to Burma. By the time Zimbabwe was exchanged for Zambia in month three of my race, I wasn’t even phased. As long as we were still visiting 11 countries, I’d be happy.
Now, in month seven, I’ve been thrown a giant curve ball…
My squad spent month six in Malawi. Our next destination was Mozambique! We’d heard terrible stories from our contact about how difficult it was to get in. He told us how corrupt the border patrol officers were and how hostile their nation was. The more we listened, the more determined we were to get in. Our logistics coordinators spent the extra time and effort required to obtain visas for everyone. We completed all the necessary paperwork and were assured by the Mozambican embassy that we would have no problem gaining access to the country.
When it finally came time to depart, my squad and I crammed our luggage into four vans and traveled to the edge of Malawi. When we finally reached the border, we stamped out of the “Warm Heart of Africa” and headed to Mozambique’s immigration office. Once there, things seemed to be going quite smoothly. The first two teams made it through while getting only a couple dirty looks. Then things came to a screeching halt. The third team was denied! One week later I am still confused as to why this was. Their excuse was that the seal on our letters of invitation were presumably “forged.” This was untrue. Perhaps they didn’t realize just how many Americans were left to come through when they admitted the first 13. Maybe they looked through our papers and noticed that the organization we would be working for was Christian…Whatever the reason, they refused to even consider letting the rest of us in. We obviously weren’t welcome.
Not wanting to get caught between countries, the remainder of our squad traveled back to the Malawi border before it closed for the night. We resolved to try again the following day. In the meantime, we had no place to stay and nothing to eat. God provided. Officers allowed us to set up our tents inside the immigration building for the night. A local restaurant owner was sweet enough to prepare us a dinner of rice, greens and eggs. It was crazy to see God work when we literally had nothing! The next morning, we made nests among our luggage to wait. We waited and waited while our main office back in Georgia tried to advocate for us. No success. Finally we were told that we were going to leave and attempt entry from another boarder. Unfortunately, the boarder we were at had called every immigration office in Mozambique to warn them about us. Our chances of getting in were slim. We retreated to Blantyre. a city in the center of lower Malawi. There, we waited to hear what our next move would be.
And I prayed.
I prayed that the our Headquarters would be able to reason with the Mozambique border. I prayed that the officers would see that our documents were indeed legitimate. I prayed that God would soften their hearts.
He had to right? We were in our seventh month and Mozambique was our seventh country! I began running alternatives through my head. Another Nation? Would it be in the budget?
After two days of waiting, the news fell with a gut wrenching thud. My 11 in 11 had turned to 10 in 11. We would not be attempting to cross the border again. We’d be heading back to Lilongwe in the morning to complete the remainder of our month in Malawi. I felt like the wind had been knocked out to me. I was heartbroken. Lies started creeping their way into my mind. We had failed. Maybe if we’d gone about border crossing differently, we’d have gotten in. The plans God had for the third of my squad who’d made it though, were more special than the plans he had for the rest of us. If I wasn’t going to 11 countries in 11 months, I wasn’t a true World Racer. Everything I had done for the past six months had been worthless. While the rest of my squad raised their hands in worship, tears trickled down my face as I released to God the one expectation I’d subconsciously been holding on to.
It’s hard to hand everything over to Him. At least it is for me. You see, I’ve always had a hard time trusting our Father. When he rocks my boat like this, my initial response is to become angry. I want to run in the opposite direction. Why can’t God’s plans be like my own!? If he wants me to be happy, why can’t I have what I want?
Because rocking the boat creates waves. And waves make an impact, even if I can’t see it. I am a child, and if I got what I wanted, I would make a mess of things. A life lived according to me would be a complete disaster. I can’t see the big picture. I can’t see the intricate details. I don’t know my heart as well as God does.
Furthermore, the race isn’t about traveling the world on some big adventure, knocking out as many countries as one can. It’s about spreading the gospel of Jesus. It’s about preaching his word. And although I knew that at the time I applied, I’m just now beginning to fully understand that. 11 in 11 is just an assumption. There is nothing else besides him; no other reason for anyone to come on this journey besides loving people like our Lord does. Any other goals; any other itineraries, will be stripped away. God literally wants nothing else for us but to be with us, and he can achieve that anywhere.
To be honest, this continues to be a major hurtle for me to get over. It’s hard not to feel like I’m in limbo until we leave Africa; like I’m caught in the in-between, waiting for the race to continue. I know it’s dangerous to think this way though. We have a purpose here, and as I release my disappointment to God, he keeps reminded me of Jeremiah 29:11 He knows the plans he has for me, and they’re good! They’re plans to prosper me, not to harm me. Plans to give me hope and a future. His plans are best.
Although I came on this trip expecting to visit 11 countries in 11 months, God already knew I wouldn’t. He didn’t call me to 11 in 11. He called me to 10 in 11 and that doesn’t make me any less of a racer.
11 in 11 is just a minor facet of the race. The bigger aspect is my relationship with him. Apparently God want’s to do more in Malawi this month and my squad has the honor of helping him do that.
