Let’s start at the very beginning; a very good place to start.
Based on my squad’s experience, month 7 on the race is when home sickness blows up in your face. It’s no longer about all the comforts from home you can’t bear to be without; it’s the fact that those comforts are only four and a half months away. People find themselves in the midst of ministry daydreaming about home. Honestly, that may seem odd to those of you reading this from home, but I’ll explain just how it works.
When you’re frustrated with some habit your teammate has, you envision that moment when you walk out of the terminal at the airport to your dearest friends and family.
When you despise eating white rice for the fourth month in a row, you make a list of all the food you want your pantry to be stocked with upon your arrival to the states.
When you don’t love the ministry you’re doing or having no control over your schedule, you spend time fantasizing about future jobs and making your own plans.
And there you have it; we’re trapped in a dreamy-eyed gaze set on our promised lands. For World Racers, the trend tends to go as follows: before the race, we spend all of our time imaging the race and how incredible it will be, but shortly into the race we begin daydreaming of home. Never being content or present where we are is not a downfall of only racers but of all of humanity. We are always looking forward to what’s next. This is not inherently bad nor does it diminish the moments in life where we have no desire to be anywhere else but exactly where we are at that moment; however, it’s not ideal either.
Okay, okay. Here’s what I’m getting at: There is no Promised Land here on Earth for us. That job promotion, girlfriend or boyfriend, big house, or next baby is not going to “be the one that changes everything.” Nothing is ever going to satisfy us completely. One of my favorite quotes about this, by C.S. Lewis, is “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” He hit the nail on the head; we weren’t created for this world.
All of this Promised Land talk began last month during a Bible study my team did. Our squad leader pointed out we left home for a reason, so why do we so desperately want to go back? Home wasn’t good enough to stay; it may have been good, maybe even great, but we thought the race offered us something home couldn’t provide, so we packed our oversized backpacks and left. Our team was convicted and encouraged by these words. It soon became a joke we threw around whenever someone mentioned comforts of home. “Tennyson, pizza’s not your promised land.”
Before our Bible study, I had never considered what a promised land looked like to me. A land flowing with milk and honey were the only automatic thoughts that fired off when someone mentioned the Promised Land. Leaving month seven behind, I took the lesson I had learned forward with me intending to remember nothing I put my hope in (besides Jesus) was going to satisfy me.
So I entered month eight ready to be present wherever I ended up, but much to my surprise I discovered another Promised Land hidden deep within my heart. Stay tuned for the second part to find out what I realized.
