I’ve had some rather interesting responses when I tell people how much I have to raise for the race. Typically their eyes get big, they pause, and then an occasional “wow” or “good luck.” One instance that stuck out to me though was when I met up at a friends house and there were some other girls there. I knew a couple except one. As my friend introduced me what typically follows is “and she’s going on a mission trip for a year!” Her face was dumbfounded, and when I said how much I had to raise her jaw literally dropped. “No ****ing way! Why on earth would you spend money to help people? They should be paying you for that!” I have no idea why her response caught me off guard, but inside I asked the naive question of “well…doesn’t everybody want to help those who are hurting?” Then it occurred to me, she was one of the first non believers who I had told (please don’t think I’m pegging this response on just those who don’t have a relationship with the Lord. I know everyone responds for different reasons.).
The only answer I could seem to muster was “well if you saw a chance to make a difference would you?” I don’t know why but I left that conversation slightly discouraged. Then the flood of thoughts came, “I should’ve had a better answer. That was weak. I could’ve been more of a witness…” on and on. Stop the condemnation train. Fast forward a week later to another conversation and I had a person tell me I should’ve done more short term missions before jumping into one like this for a year. In essence I was abandoning my duties to my family (not exactly what was said, but heavily implied). “There’s plenty of messes around here to clean up. You should look at doing something closer to home.” That hurt because I look up to and love this person, and I was offended. Cue thought train: “What makes you think you have the authority to tell me what I should be doing for God? If you really think it’s more important to change things here then you do something about it!”
Discouraged, frustrated, and annoyed. Maybe throw in some doubt just for good measure. I absolutely hate it when indirect guilt comments are thrown at me. Spare me the hidden agenda of your opinion please. As much as I wanted to backlash, I bit my tongue and in my heart gave it to the Lord. He gave me a small reminder that immediately took away the frustration, “I am your defender. Be still.” Sometimes “explaining” ourselves is just another way of expressing our offense toward someone. I had to make a choice in my reaction. Later on as I was sulking the Holy Spirit reminded me of something. I did have experience in missions. Wait, what? I’ve been out of the country, but not for that reason. “The skatepark” he nudged. For the past 3 years I’ve helped with a local skatepark ministry called The Way (check out their website it’s such an awesome and unique ministry www.thewayskatepark.org/web/).
3 years I poured out my time and my heart to this subculture that is typically not well thought of. Out of control kids who hate school and have drug problems. I will fully admit I was not exactly thrilled to be working with these kids. They were the ones who drove me nuts in school with their “screw you” attitude and obnoxious behavior. God quickly broke that. This is my hometown, these kids are part of my community, he loves them deeply. Who was I to come in acting like I knew better? It was hard in the beginning. I knew nothing of their culture, their lingo, their heart, and to them I was just another judgmental outsider who would drift in and out of their life because they were too much to handle. I was tested constantly by them if I would lose my temper and talk down or kick them out. Something amazing happened though, once they saw I really wanted to understand them and help them I was accepted. They had my back, and I have to say they were probably the most polite and helpful kids I have ever met. Their family lives were a wracked with divorce, drugs, poverty, drinking, abuse, and just about any other terrible thing you could imagine. Siblings cared for each other because the parents sure wouldn’t. So for them this skatepark was their family and they looked out for each other. Even though they had no money they would buy me a candy bar from the vending machine on occasion and each time my heart just broke. When God told me it was time to finally go and prepare for the race it tore me up inside standing in front of all the sweaty faces I had come to adore. They look they gave back was disheartening, and one little boy asked “will you never come back?” I cried because to them, when someone leaves, typically they don’t come back. Trying to keep it together I told him I would always visit when I could, and to pray for me as I helped other kids who were suffering much worse than they were which was hard for them to believe. They gathered around and in a sweaty, stinky group hug said their goodbyes, than we all sang “Let It Go” the dubstep remix as they skated out the night. They love their dubstep.
Remembering all that time there with these kids reassured my heart I was doing the right thing even if others didn’t think I had the experience for a whole year. If it wasn’t for helping there I don’t think my heart would’ve begun the change to prepare me for the race and see first hand how broken the world is. What I’m about to embark on is much more raw and intense, but it’s worth it. I love the quote “God does not call the qualified, God qualifies the called.” He opened my eyes, and I will never stop pursuing the chance to change myself and the lives of others. I’ve stopped caring how what I’m doing makes others feel. I can’t control that, but I can do something about how I present what I’m doing as a witness.
