So, I’m gonna try to tell a pretty long story in the most concise way possible. Because the lessons I learned from it are actually far more important than the story itself.
About two weeks ago, I took a sunrise hike to the cross monument that overlooks Antigua with three of my friends, Andie, Kevin and Ryan. We made it to the cross, began to take pictures of the gorgeous view of the entire city, and then sat down to worship. As Kevin began playing, and we all began worshipping, we didn’t see the three men coming up behind us, armed with clubs and rocks bigger than our heads. As they came up on us, Ryan turned around, and started screaming,
“NO!”
It took a few seconds for the panic to settle in, but when it did, it was overwhelming. I turned back to see a man holding a rock over my head that would easily knock me out. I began to scramble as Andie and Ryan were yelling at me to run.
My first thought was
“Seriously God!? Of all the ways to go…being stoned?” (Seriously. That’s what I was thinking)
The man behind me started laughing, and I immediately felt a surge of spiritual darkness that I can’t explain.
Andie began to rebuke the men in the name of Jesus, and something shifted. I was fearful but not overcome. The guys were yelling at us to run, as Kevin was literally whacking our attackers with his guitar.
So we ran. We ran with absolutely no sense of where we were going. We ran straight down the front of a Guatemalan mountain, not knowing where our guys were, or where the 3 men were. We ended up in a random backyard, and ran…dirty and tearful….into the streets. It was like a scene out of a horror movie. The streets were empty. Ryan and Kevin were nowhere to be found, after what felt like hours of calling their names. We eventually sat on the rock wall by the entrance to the trail, exhausted, in our thorn and dirt filled sweatshirts and running shorts, with nothing to do but cry and pray.
And then we saw the guys. We ran towards each other super dramatically. Like they could put it at the end of a movie for sure. Everything was okay. We were collectively missing 3 iphones, an ipad, 3 team phones and a gopro, but we were all okay.
At this point, you’re probably wondering why I titled this blog “The Best Thing that Happened to me on the World Race.” Maybe you think I’m crazy. But I have never in my life so literally and tangibly felt the Lord’s protection over me. The police, our hostel owner, and our ministry host had never heard of Americans getting attacked at the cross and the girls not being raped and beaten. Of the four of us, no one was harmed except for a few scratches and bruises.
When I decided to go on the race, countless people asked, “Isn’t that dangerous?”
My response was so consistent that it became a regurgitation, “The Lord has called me to this and he will protect me.”
Last week, a lot of head knowledge moved to my heart. How many times had I quoted ‘No weapon formed against me shall remain’, or ‘The Lord works all things for the good of those who love him’. How often had I claimed fearlessness, claimed His protection over me? How often had I told people the Lord would go before me, without really thinking about what that meant.
Last week, God gave me a physical example of his love and protection for me as well as the people I love dearly who were with me. I can no longer say “He is for us” without conviction and passion. I can no longer live in fear with any good reason. I know my God is fighting for me. I know that he will continue fighting for me as I process through the events of last weekend. And I know that He will fight for each and everyone of you that let’s him.
And that’s why this is the best thing that has happened to me on the World Race. It was terrifying, breathtaking…dangeros and hurtful, but it taught me more than I could ever have learned in complete safety.
