Training Camp
………was last month.
I went and, well, I can say I survived. Hallelujah!
I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed training camp, and I won’t. That would be lying, and I won’t lie to you all. I very much did not like it, but probably not for why you think.
Bucket showers didn’t bother me too much, actually. Even when I took a cold bucket shower in the low 50s, I wasn’t mad about it. I was simply thankful to be able to get clean. Sleeping outside (even in the rain) or trying to get rest unsuccessfully for multiple nights in a row didn’t even ruin my training camp experience. Although I didn’t love the bootcamp day, including uphill sit-ups synchronized and the ridiculous amount of burpees in the just-rained-on nasty ground, that wasn’t what caused my dislike of training camp. Team formations didn’t damper me too much, either, because honestly, my dream team was impossible: it would have blended Racers from M, N, and P Squads.
So….what did I have the most trouble with at training camp?
Feeling accepted — and appreciated. Not by God, mind you, but rather by the other Racers and the Staff. (I know Abba accepts me as His child and I know He takes note of my efforts.) If it wasn’t a squadmate who misjudged my silence for disinterest, it was an AIM Staffer admonishing me for not “participating” when I didn’t speak up every few minutes.
I participate by observing sometimes.
I analyze everything — situations, things, people, actions.
I think before I speak, and sometimes that means I don’t speak for a while.
I choose my words carefully. I like to “process” internally (to myself) before externally (with others).
I do not care about being the center of attention in a group, nor will I demand all eyes to me.
I do not freely give away my trust — it has to be earned.
This is who I am.
I am not perfect and obviously not the “model Racer” as insinuated at training camp, but I sure as heck am a follower of Jesus Christ, a lover of the Holy Spirit, and an ordained child of God!
A lot of camp I was fighting to not give up, to not be disappointed or discouraged. I was fighting to let myself love my squadmates and the staff, regardless of whether I felt loved by them or not. I was fighting to hold on to peace and to pursue it with others with wild persistence. I was fighting to not let situations dictate my faithfulness.
It was a fight, but I belong to the Victor.
Sometimes the hardest fights are with those you go into battle with. The Race isn’t going to be easy, but I will fight for faith, for love, for the purpose God has called me to (1 Timothy 6:12).
