When I arrived at World Race training camp last Saturday I wasn't really sure what to expect, other than face paint and fish soup—both of which scared me a bit, and both of which I survived.
Still, I walked away from camp with much more than squad spirit and a stronger stomach. I walked away with 44 sisters and 13 brothers. In 7 short days, 57 strangers became my close friends. And at some point during that relational transformation, I found freedom.
I was a quiet child. My mother often describes the pre-high school me as sweet and loving. But those kinds of words haven’t been used to describe my spirit since… well, the 90’s. The teenage and adult me was labeled strong, independent, vocal, active, talkative, dominant, competitive, outgoing, career-driven, assertive—you get the gist.
But during the first few days of camp, I didn’t feel strong or assertive. I couldn’t figure out what role I played on my squad, so I didn’t talk much. Truth be known, I didn’t have much to say. The more I tried to be the “me” I’m used to being, the more awkward I felt.
All of a sudden, I didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t really know how to process that. I started comparing myself to others and wondered what was wrong with me. I was inwardly envious of the natural ones—those who seemed comfortable in their own skin.
photo credit: Cassie Wilson
Based upon what I’ve already told you, it should come as no surprise that I have a tendency to be tenacious. So, in the quest to retrieve my sense of self, I strived. A part of me even knew I was striving, but I didn’t know how to stop.
Then one night during worship, God whispered—Just walk.
He didn’t say—walk like Estie. Or worship like Meredith. Or serve like Cassie. Or sound like Jan (as if that were possible). Or pray like Kacie. Or love like Emily. Or uplift like Jesse. Or lead like Jolene. Or interact like Steven. He didn’t say any of that, because the truth is—I can’t. And if I try to, the body doesn’t function the way it was intended.
Just walk. Be still. Breathe. My strength will be made perfect in your weakness. And in your heart, I will find my dwelling place.
Not soon after I threw my arms up in surrender, I started receiving interesting words of affirmation from my squad mates.
photo credit: Melissa Milroy
They didn’t say things I was used to hearing, like, “You’re such a quick learner.” or “You’re so driven.” or “You’re such an independent and strong person.” or “You’re a natural leader.” or “You have so many talents.”
Instead, they said, “You’re going to make a great mom one day.” and “You’re so joyful and sweet and loving.” and “You’re like a pillar.” and “I see a steel rod running straight through you.” and “You keep me calm and grounded.”
At first, I was a little confused. I fought the constant urge to respond with, “Um, are you sure you have the right person?”
These people had known me for less than a week, but they didn’t have my past to hold against me. They had never experienced the unbeliever I used to be. The aggressive me. The quick-to-anger me. The sarcastic me. The self-righteous me. The proud me. The me that had over time been infiltrated by culture, school systems, college, media, politics, Hollywood, relationships and religion.
photo credit: Melissa Milroy
They could see me as Christ sees me—stripped of contamination. They could see the person He created me to be. They could see the child I once was. Being sweet, kind, quiet, calm and level-headed felt natural. I felt free.
Paul tells us in Galatians 5:1, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.”
The Lord used training camp to impact my walk in a huge way. From now on, I'll stand firm and fight against the yoke of slavery. As a Daughter of Christ, I'm crucified to the world through the cross of my Lord and Savior.
I can be kind. I can be uplifting. I can be quiet and steady because He made me to be those things. He is so good, y'all. And I'm so excited to see how He's going to move in and through the lives of each and every member of N Squad.
Blessings & freedom,
Julie
