Thirty-four pounds.
A medium sized dog. A toddler. The Stanley Cup. A small toolbox.
The weight of my hiking pack for an entire year of living.
The weight of how much lighter I feel after ten days at training camp.
If someone had asked me on the day of high school graduation what my life would be like eight years later, my answer would have been simple and pretty classic: married to the man of my dreams, at least two of four kids, life as a stay-at-home mom, a stellar college degree, a stunning savings account, a cute little house somewhere in Western Washington, and a couple of dogs.
The American Dream? You bet. It is exactly what I always dreamed of. It is what every kid wants growing up; it is what has been engrained in our visions of the future since we were toddlers. It is everything you should work up to in life and it is the only “correct” way to live for so many people.
But as I grew up, what if I decided I did not want that American Dream?
What if I decided I never want to live the American Dream?
As I struggled through seven long years of college trying to find that perfect degree to get that perfect job, as I struggled through a broken relationship and many broken friendships, and as I struggled through depression and anxiety, the American Dream that everyone desperately wants flew out the window to some unknown land that I never intend to see.
I went on my first mission trip in 2012 to the Navajo Reservation in Northern Arizona. As we stood outside on our final night looking up at the stars and worshiping, I saw the Milky Way for the first time and the sky was on fire with stars. That was the moment Abba began nudging me in the direction of missions. It is that little nudge that continued on two more mission trips – one to Huehuetenango, Guatemala and one to clean up Malibu Young Life camp for college work-week. It is that nudge that led me to sign up for a mission trip through my church, and that same nudge that led me to find the World Race when the church mission trip fell through.
I never imagined a life of long-term missions; it never even crossed my mind. I wanted that American Dream. But now, I want a kingdom journey. My life has changed for the better because Abba’s plans are infinitely better than the plans we conceive for ourselves.
As I prepared for training camp, the enemy settled himself in and got real comfortable. I doubted my decision to do long-term missions, to be a world racer. I doubted how Abba would provide all the funds for an eleven month mission trip. I doubted myself and my abilities.
World Race training camp is the most intense ten days one could possibly imagine. Ten days in the middle of July in northern Georgia. Ten days of nothing but heat, humidity, and never-ending sweat. Approximately three-hundred world racers living in tents with bugs everywhere, using only porta-potties and bucket showers. As a squad, we bonded over weird food, bucket showers, team building exercises, early morning workouts, struggles with pooping, multiple sleep simulations, incredible worship, testimonies, a whole lot of laughter, and the occasional tears. It may seem crazy to most people, but you can go from “online dating” your squadmates to best friends with your squadmates in less than ten days.
The first night of camp as we began worshiping prior to session starting, I prayed what felt like a tough prayer; a prayer I never expected to be answered so quickly and answered so consistently throughout camp. “Abba, please break this [lack of] self-confidence. When people see me, I want them to see you.”
Over the course of ten days, the chains began to break and then completely broke.
Numerous times over the course of ten days, I felt Abba’s presence so strongly. It was nearly always in times where prayer, scripture, what the speaker was saying, or what was being said resonated with my initial prayer about my lack of self-confidence.
Jesus’ blood covered and REMOVED our sins – so God cannot give us an identity based on our past, but only on our future. || Deon
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. || 2 Corinthians 12:9
I am no longer a slave to fear, I am a child of God… || worship
Don’t compare your experiences to someone else. || Deon
I found freedom in the river, found freedom in the river of Your love… || worship
Comparison kills joy, kills unity, and hinders what God has for us. || Vanessa
In an exercise we did one night in session, we were given five bible verses each with a specific question to answer. We didn’t have to get to each bible verse within the time given, but focus on what our responses were. One of the verses was Matthew 11: 28-30 with the question ‘what has burdened your life?’ My answer was quickly doubt and fear. As I read these couple verses about making our burden lighter, I prayed to become a doubtless and fearless person. While I was praying, the lightest breeze caught my bible and the page flipped. When I looked down, the first verse to catch my eye was Matthew 13:44 which says “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” My mind immediately interpreted the verse as ‘following his plan is so much better than anything else I could ever do’.
While our fitness test was on day three of camp, the fitness test resembles so much of my journey at camp. We strapped our packs on – the weight of our struggles, our fears, our insecurities, our anxieties, and our doubts. As we walked, the load became easier. We adjusted to the weight of our packs, to the burdens we carried within ourselves. As we neared the end and could see the finish line, many of us, myself included, decided to sprint to the finish, knowing we would find joy at the end. I crossed the finish line and I had successfully completed the fitness test. I promptly unclipped my chest and waist strap and threw my hiking pack to the ground; I threw my doubts and my fear and insecurities to the ground and am done with them because they are not worth it.
Thirty-four pounds.
A medium sized dog. A toddler. The Stanley Cup. A small toolbox.
The weight of my hiking pack for an entire year of living.
The weight of how much lighter I feel after ten days at training camp.
