I type and retype this sentence a thousand times, my thoughts cartwheeling around my mind. For once, the ability to write escapes me. How can I possibly put into words the ten days of my life that reshaped my mind, body, and spirit?
Sitting on my bed amidst a sea of pillows, chai tea in hand, I run my fingers through my fluffy, clean hair. If I am thirsty, there is filtered water less than five feet away. If I am hungry, there is a refrigerator brimming with the aftermath of a recent Trader Joe’s run. Life, once again, is comfortable. If it were not for fire-ant bites littering my swollen feet, I might forget altogether the past ten days. Training camp feels like a distant dream. A dream, might I add, that a week ago I was unsure would ever end.
Can I be honest for a second? Training camp wrecked me; it ripped me from my sedated life and forced me to meet face-to-face with my raw self. Time has moved quickly in recent months. My mundane day-to-day life allowed the weeks to blur together. I suppressed any true emotion, feeding my soul with fleeting comforts. It was not until I was stripped of these comforts on the first night that reality set in. “What am I doing here?” I wrote, hunched over my journal with beams of light protruding from my headlamp. “All I can hope is that this heavy discourse yields growth in the end. But what does that even mean? I don’t want growth. I want my mom and my bed and my friends that laugh at my jokes and my dog and the freedom to eat beans and rice if I want to (not just if I have a black pepper allergy).”
You either manage your emotions or your emotions manage you.
This revelation hit me hard. I had been fighting myself for so long, arguing for solace in the world that brought instant relief in return for a calloused heart. To experience full healing, I surrendered my heart to Him, which meant relinquishing my control. It is far too easy to run from pain and toil with false idols. How many times had I allowed the fear of rejection to convince me that I was strong enough to handle everything on my own? “A lot of my life I’ve felt like I was treading water in the ocean,” I wrote in my journal. “Small or large waves might come and I’d lose my breath for a second, causing me to treader harder and faster. I’m exhausted. God wants to be that raft that gives me stable ground on rocky waters.”
Coming to this realization allowed me to feel the hurt I’ve suppressed in past months and years. I began to tear out these weeds in my heart by the root. The initial pain of doing so was soothed by an overwhelming peace that followed.
These past ten days I learned to cry, be vulnerable, and find my limits. I also learned that revelation does not equate healing. Practicing introspection does not mean that my internal holes are repaired. As I return to a life that prides itself in comforts only skin deep, I am challenged to continue pressing onto God, forgoing convenience in order to receive the healing He promises to all who call upon Him.
“We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but we are not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.” 2 Corinthians 4: 8-10
Training camp was difficult. These difficulties will not cease when I embark on the World Race in five weeks.
But I find overwhelming comfort knowing that I am not in this alone. Jesus picks us up in times of contradiction. Not only that, but He makes us stronger.
Now that’s something to get excited about.
