The race has changed me.
I am no longer the same person I once was.
I know that you aren’t supposed to see those things in yourself because, well, you live with yourself every second of every day. The change is supposed to be gradual, so subtle that you don’t even notice it until you stumble into a piece of your past that reminds you of just how far you’ve come. The thing is, I see the changes every day and I notice them in my thinking, my feeling, and my responses. That means that they must be pretty dramatic if even I notice them.
Change is refreshing; a brand new start with no marks, freedom from the past, and endless opportunities. Perhaps that’s why I enjoy moving around so much, seeing different places, being with different people- each moment is a brand new start.
At the beginning of this journey, I decided that I wasn’t going to change much because I already liked where I was at. I loved the Lord, I was enjoying doing ministry where I was at, I was learning and discovering and taking small steps forward each day. I was fairly satisfied- now that bothers me. This year has shown me just how small my world was, how much I was settling for so little of God because I didn’t believe He could do much with a girl like me. People told me that the race does big things, that you will never be same again, and that you will never see God in the same way either. I sort of believed them; I figured that I would maybe be a bit more experienced in different types of ministry, perhaps a bit better at living in community with people, and perhaps have some time with the Lord.
So much more has happened and this is just month six.
Future racer, there is no way to tell what the Lord is going to do in your life in this one year, but you can bet that it is going to be incredible. Don’t expect it to be amazing, don’t expect it to be the worst, and don’t expect to be the same person. When you make the decision and say yes to going, know that you are making a huge commitment- a commitment that you cannot control the outcome of. Be aware every moment and don’t miss out on what God is doing.
Here’s a journal entry I think you need to read:
5/22/15:
So here I am high in the air on a flight to Malaysia and almost at the halfway point of the world race. Halfway. It seems like a lifetime in itself because of all that I have seen, felt and experienced, but at the same time I feel an edge of panic clutch at my chest as I realize that I have only that same amount of time left now.
Five months under my belt and headed to country six. Six to me sounds like so much; six cultures, six homes, six places to make friends, six skies, six ministries, two teams, over one hundred breakfasts, hundreds of prayers, five good cries, somewhere around ten flights, twenty five bus rides, and four packages of baby wipes.
Time is so confusing on the world race; I never wear a watch and rarely look at the team phone. Days of the week are only described between ministry days, travel days, and off days, and months tick by slowly but then leave you feeling the ‘if only I had more time I could…” because it seems like time betrayed you. The stirrings of my squad mates and bright light coming through the windows tell me it’s morning and shoes being tugged on and backpacks shouldered tell me it’s time for ministry. The exhaustion in my body and cool(er) air tells me to wind down for the evening and the inevitable choir of street dogs tells me it’s time for bed.
I’ve learned that meals are a time for socializing and rest whether it be sitting on the ground scooping rice with our fingers in a tiny village or chilling in a funky coffee shop with my team in the big city. I’ve learned the art of doing absolutely nothing for hours at a time and how to not let even the most dramatic changes in schedule bother me. Often choices are made for me: what I will eat that day, what work I will do, what clothes I will wear according to the culture, but I also get to taste and see.
This weird thing happens on the race where you learn how to pack your things just right; you know where each item is, what you need or can drop to lighten the load, how to adjust the multitude of straps on your pack to get them just right, and what to stuff in your carry-on for travel days. There’s this swelling of pride because you remember how difficult these things used to be and the utter hopelessness you felt when trying to fit it all in that brand new pack, let alone actually picking it up. Airports with language barriers no longer give you anxiety; you’ve been scanned, patted, questioned, tagged, lined up, shuffled around, and crammed in more times than you can count. You know how to scope out the best places to sleep in public and when a taxi or auto driver is lying to you when he says he knows where you want to go. You can barter even when you can’t remember the currency conversion and get used to being openly stared at and touched wherever you go.
What does it mean to be a world racer?
Bodily functions and bathroom talk become dinner table conversation and the word “missionary” no longer sounds like someone else. Your feet have Chaco tan lines that are likely permanently etched into your skin and you are covered in some new form of bug bites or weird rash. You learn that singing Adele is the only way to make a freezing bucket shower okay and that pens and water flavoring are things you guard with your life.
You’ve fallen to your knees sobbing and danced around the kitchen because you are making pasta. You’ve fallen to the floor laughing with tears streaming into your ears because you can’t get off your back and you’ve blankly stared without seeing or seemingly breathing because you’ve just received the most terrible news.
You’ve touched the clouds at the top of a volcano and raced through the city on the back of a motorcycle in an earthquake. You’ve had your pillowcase soaked in the tears of a teammate as you just hold them and stroke their hair because there’s nothing to say and you’ve had hands laid on you in prayer for healing as you lay next to the toilet more sick than you have ever been.
You’ve been angry, oh so angry- sometimes at the world for being such a terrible place and sometimes at your roommate for waking you in the night. You’ve been happy- oh so happy! You’ve yelled your love for Jesus out of the joy bubbling up into your heart as you stand in the spray of the largest waterfall you’ve ever seen and you’ve done a victory dance in secret when you see a teammate take a step of faith you’ve been praying for.
You’ve laughed with tiny children and cried tears of joy as someone has accepted Christ into their life. You have danced until your legs shake and sang until your voice cracked and still kept going. You’ve cared for the dying; rubbing oil on their emaciated bodies that look more skeleton than human and fastened shirt buttons for paralyzed hands. You’ve painted murals while praying for hours and heard the Lord’s voice as if He were there beside you.
You’ve been so honest- you’ve confessed your failures and been loved for them too. You’ve learned how to speak up and use your voice and you’ve been humbled and shown what sacrifice really means. You’ve played in the ocean waves and laughed to the sky in a monsoon storm. You’ve preached, taught, sang, and danced in front of rooms full of people and told a secret you weren’t even aware was a secret until it came out to just one person.
You’ve desperately prayed aloud begging for mercy while the earth shook and people screamed in terror and you’ve whispered God’s words into someone’s ear as they sob. You’ve communicated important things through charades-like signing; everything from “Where’s the bathroom?” to “Do you know Jesus?.” You’ve sat at the feet of countless teachers; sometimes it’s a man who has seen the entire world and has more wisdom than anyone you have ever met and other times it’s a tiny child who has lived such a different life than you.
You have eaten everything; from llama to strange spiky fruits, to bugs, to things so spicy it makes your mouth burn for hours. You’ve prayed all night against demons and spiritual darkness all six of your teammates also saw and you’ve seen a woman smile after her paralyzed face was healed. You’ve talked about your feelings more than you’d prefer and caught yourself using phrases like “I want to pursue” or “love on” you.
You’ve learned how to squat like a pro and have the quads to prove it and the delicate art of modestly changing and giving yourself a wipe bath in a room with guys. You’ve snuggled in the same bed to watch a movie on the tiny tablet screen and walked arm in arm through open air food markets bursting with interesting smells and filled with life. You’ve laid down and looked at the moon knowing it’s the same one you fell in love with at home, but that you are so far away from that place. You’ve been hurt by words and you’ve been built up by them even more. You’ve taught an art class in a language you don’t know and you’ve literally been a psychologist without any grad school.
You’ve made friends all over the world and cried bitterly waving to them out of a window as you ride away forever. You’ve learned what you believe and been challenged to look at things from an entirely new angle to open up your mind to new possibilities.
You are not the person you were when you stepped off the plane from your hometown and into a crowd of people you can’t imagine becoming your family. Joy has filled you, freedom has released you, fear has humbled you, faith has strengthened you, pain has broken you, and God Himself has changed you. But you are also not the person you will be when you step off onto American soil in less than six months.
Part of me is so excited to meet that woman who I know I will hardly recognize and the other part of me is so afraid to experience what is ahead of me to make me into her. Life can change us slowly like water eroding stone into flowing forms with time, but sometimes God immerses us into the heat of the fire to purify us in minutes- this year seems to be the latter!
So here I sit on an airplane to Malaysia, the sixth country I have lived and worked in this year. The seat is some weird leather, I have a tiny plastic cup of water on the folding table in front of me, there’s an announcement going on from the cockpit in a language I cannot even name and I write this in my journal with a crappy pen I picked up somewhere that hardly works anymore. This is home, this is my life, and this is God’s call for me. Sometimes I am overwhelmed with thankfulness, sometimes I am terrified and still other times I just want the comfort of the States. Right now though, I am content to just sit here and wait for whatever God has in store for me next.
All I can tell you, future racer, is to be ready. Be ready to give all that you have in every way possible and to have something so much more beautiful and satisfying in its place. Be ready to have to actively work for these changes- to seek, to learn, to talk, to question, and to speak truth. Be ready to never, ever fit back into the old life you have created because you have changed into something so different through all these experiences. Be ready for so many beautiful things, so many difficult things, and for time to stretch our like an eternity and fly by at the same time.
There is nothing you can do in your own strength to prepare, but if the Lord has called you to this know that you are already prepared because you have been chosen and He will make you ready. All my prayers and blessings to you on this beautiful, terrifying, crazy journey my dear future racer!
