Before the world race I did a lot of things I am not proud of, and per the discretion of others privacy I will not divulge the details here. The result of these behaviors lead to a snowball of internalized shame and pain.
I lost a group of friends dear to my heart, toyed with the hearts of others for personal affirmation, and became a stumbling block for someone who is very close to The Lord.
In the beginning of The World Race, I had a heavy heart about these things ( and so much more…) and didn’t feel worthy to be here. In my mind, I was going to be around people that knew they loved God and I was unsure of myself. All I knew is that I wanted to make others feel loved, and see the world.
I assumed that “Racers” would be a bunch of kids my age that knew the rules, obeyed them, and were willing to go into the world and evangelize about this God that they knew with full certainty was worth sacrificing their livelihood for. I imagined the Race to be like all of the mission trips the Youth Group went on in middle school. Not to say that ministry in middle school is a bad thing, but I didn’t believe there would be room for all of the ways that I wasn’t measuring up to this “image”— and honestly, I in the beginning I perceived that “image” was what the American Church was all about at that time. ( cynical, I know )
I wasn’t speaking Christianese, I didn’t have anything to ” process ” through, I didn’t know how to listen to God speak to me, and I didn’t know what “Jesus Time” was supposed to be like. I felt like a lost puppy in a strange place, not to mention that I was in a completely different culture where nothing else was familiar either. My whole world was flipped upside down.
It’s taken some great conversations, intentional questions, and a few tears ( okay, a lot), but I have learned that all of these people are in the same place I am. These “Racers” are all Christians, yes, but all that means is that we are committing to a life of growing and changing for a purpose… and admitting that we need Grace.
I’m not surrounded by “holier than thou” people who know how to do the right things, say the right words, and pray the right prayers. I am surrounded by a group of people with a longing for something more, a passion for purpose, and a willingness to meet others where they are struggling. Each day, as I start to believe this, I feel like I can breathe in and out a little bit easier.
I was still living right in the middle of an internal thunderstorm in the summer before the Race and sometimes those waves of self doubt, fear, and unworthiness still knock me over and make me feel like I am drowning. Not only has this community helped dry me off, keep me warm, and teach me defense tactics that I so value and appreciate — but I also have God.
If I have learned anything on this Race, it has been that…
I have God.
Through the big and little things, has shown me that he is very actively involved in my life. Before the race, I laughed at the thought of saying…”It’s okay, I have God”. What a foreign and empty sounding concept to me. I hadn’t full heartedly pursued it, so I didn’t get it.
In the face of both poverty and the glamour of the westernized world I have learned these things about Him:
He is a kind and loving God, but also a God of authority and power.
He is the Father that we are all spending our lives searching for.
He knew you in the beginning before all the ugly, and welcomes you back home when you are tattered and lonely.
When you’ve run off, he runs to you with open arms….every. single. time.
He is a God that dabs your wounds, bandages them up, and gives you a stern talk later about “how much you’ve scared him by running off and don’t do it again”
He is someone you want to do your best for, because you know what it feels like when He is proud of you. He is enough… and I am enough in him.
In being enough in Him, I am able to love others and be loved without the repercussions of manipulation, distrust, and abuse.
It doesn’t matter if others see the scars or the wounds, because I know that He is healing and has helped heal them. They are battle wounds, to share with others about what I’ve learned, laughed, and grieved about. They are not insecurities, but rather juicy details to my story.
He knows my story, it’s his favorite…after-all, He wrote it.
