Unordinary Ordianry
A Chick-Fil-A chicken sandwich, no pickles on wheat bread with sweet tea and a pack of buffalo sauce. That’s comfortable. My silver Nissan Versa is comfortable. Comfortable is my amazing family that I love so much. Hendersonville, Tenn. is comfortable.
On April, 29, 2010 I returned home from the world race. The transition from World Race-living to living back home made me realize that comfortable doesn’t have a place here. Having every material thing I could ever want can’t give me peace. Not anymore. I know and understand that many are called to bring the Gospel to the corporate world in America, but not me. I feel out of place, and know that’s not where God wants me.
While home I struggled with feeling like I didn’t belong, I didn’t fit in. There was no lack of people who loved me and showed me they loved me. It wasn’t that. I missed my unordinary, ordinary life. I missed my community, the constant encouragement and rebuke, the random worship sessions, someone always around to grab and pull aside. I missed sitting in the middle of the jungle and eating around a mat on the floor. I missed seeing elephants walk down the road, stuffing 30 people into a 15-passenger van, and watching the cows come home. While I missed all this I knew it was time to close that chapter and move on to what God had next. I couldn’t hold on. That part of my life was gone and passed, and a new journey was about to begin.
So here I am in Haiti. On the two hour flight from Miami, I felt excitement building. The very first day, our tap-tap (taxis in Haiti that are flagged down by tapping on the hood) had broken down. Sitting in the wet, 95-degree heat, I saw Haitian children playing, people with smiles walking by, and this feeling of discomfort felt so comfortable. It’s been amazing to see how God’s love in a community can thrive when everyone is totally working for one another. The team I’m leading isn’t thinking about how tired they are, their own happiness, or Chick-fil-a with no pickles. Selflessness and sacrifice. Using each day to glorify Him. And I’m so thankful that this month I’m in Haiti, focusing solely on his glory instead of daily routines and a 9-5 job.
I want a life so radical that things I did on the race become normal. Jumping in the ocean on a whim, waiting in cow traffic, waking to roosters each morning. Cars breaking down, worshiping under the stars, praying over the sick, and living in community makes my heart beat. What a wonderful lifestyle that I can call the unordinary, ordinary.
As I sit here in Haiti tonight, I don’t hold on and hope for the race to be reenacted. Rather I take what I learned and experienced, what I found to bring me life, and I run into the next part of this journey. Where life goes from here I don’t know, but I know it includes the unordinary, ordinary life I have experienced over this past year. I know that I am called to awaken a generation to rise up and live the life Christ called us to. To a life where we walk by faith and truly trust Him. Where we stop asking for clarity and start stepping in faith. So for now, here in Haiti, I am blessed to be apart of seeing a group of ten amazing people be awakened and freed to walk in boldness into the journey God is taking them on.
“The reality of naked trust is the life of a pilgrim who leaves what is nailed down, obvious, and secure, and walks into the unknown without any rational explanation to justify the decision or guarantee the future. Why? Because God has signaled the movement and offered it His presence and His promise.”
-Brennan Manning
-Brennan Manning
