Men are Better

 

To say the race changed my mindset is an understatement. On the race the Lord completely obliterated the lies I had believed about men based on my experiences in middle school and high school, and how those experiences affected my self worth. He removed the distrust I had in my heart and opened my eyes to His true design of masculinity and the beauty of the relationship between men and woman. All the while, he spoke into my worth and value as a woman, solidifying my identity as His daughter.

 

 

He did it through the men on my squad. With them by my side, I quit needing to prove myself, because I finally felt good enough. I quit doubting my worth, because they made me feel cherished. I began trusting them, because I knew they loved me. 

 

I used to think men viewed women as less. Less capable, less valuable. It was hard for me to embrace womanhood because to do so felt like accepting a life of less importance and significance.  

 

But today, I stand here claiming my womanhood.  It doesn’t have so much to do with a greater knowledge of who I am, but it mostly has to do with a new and greater  understanding of who men are. And I owe it to the 13 men (racers, squad leader, and coach) who were a part of my race. It’s because of them, my courageous brothers who set out on an adventure around the world to spread the gospel of love, that my heart was changed.

 

The following are some of the impactful moments I remember most with my brothers this year. (The pictures are of the men on my squad, but do not match up with each story)

 

The race has barely begun. Why does he have such faith in me? He’s my leader. I’m supposed to follow him. But he asked me to pray for the property. He empowered me to be the voice used to command the darkness to leave. He submits to me, despite my being a woman. As he shows me that he believes the Holy Spirit can work in me just as mightily as any man, I believe it as well. I find my walls coming down. In the weeks to come, it feels right to follow and submit to a man who believes in me.

 

 

They want us to share our secrets? You’re kidding right? I feel God nudging me to stand up. My turn. I tell them my mistakes. Of course they’re all going to look at me differently now. But the difference I see is not what I expected. With compassion in their eyes and strength in their arms, they embrace me. Their hands resting on me as they pray. They’ve become my brothers. I can’t bring myself to fully trust them yet, but I see their hearts a little more, their brokenness, and I begin to understand the own struggles they’ve faced due to the lies satan has spoken to them as men.

 

 

I have been hurt and offended by the things he’s said. I want to just leave things alone, to go on believing my familiar views about men, but I know I need to speak up. I’m afraid to tell him how I feel, scared of an attack. But he takes the words and remains silent, receiving what I’ve handed him. He could spit it all back, make excuses, defend himself. But he doesn’t. He takes up the challenge and walks towards gentleness, caring for my heart in the months ahead. He’ll never know the impact of his humility.

 

 

He sits with me. Our guitars are resting on our knees following a jam session where he’s taught me some new songs. He tells me I’m gifted in worship. What? He’s one of the best. Me. No. I’m not good at worship. I can’t accept his words. Not yet. But those words inspire me to want more. I begin improving and I feel like he has opened a new world of creativity to me. By the end of the race, his belief in me has expanded into a belief in myself.

 

 

I’m offered the position as a logistics leader. I have zero experience or confidence in the area of travel and finances, but I head downstairs and meet with him anyways. Just to talk things through. He’s the expert after all, my partner in crime if I choose to accept, why not see what he has to say? As he explains what the job entails, all I can think is that I can’t do it. But then he tell me,  “You’re the one I saw who could do this.” What does he mean, I’m the one? Why do I doubt myself when others believe so much in me? I accept. I came on this race to grow, but God knew I needed this man’s words to take the first step.

 

 

 We’ve never really talked. You’re the coach of the entire squad. But as the seat between us at dinner opens up, I find myself beginning to share my fears with you. I confess about the wall I’ve hit mid-race. Your wisdom, gained from years of experience, gives me a glimpse of hope. You invite me to dream again, to accept the hard times, but to recognize their worth. You hug me and I feel the embrace of the Father.

 

It’s late at night as we sit on couches in the living room. He hears me as I share my own views on relationships, what characteristics of God I see in men, and what invites me to submit and respect them. He praises my honesty, acknowledges my wisdom. He says he enjoys listening to me speak and hearing what I have to say. What? My words? They meant something to you? My words don’t hold this kinda weight, well they haven’t before. Or maybe I just never knew. Now, thanks to you, I’m learning to. I have a voice and God is using it.

 

 

It’s dark and raining. We’re sitting on a bus, the two of us enduring quite the day as we’ve traveled to rejoin my team. We have our packs, daypacks, guitar, and an extra pack. He has carried and protected most of it the whole day. We’ve been bothered by locals, ripped off, and had a bag stolen. I’ve been afraid, but tried not to show it. Maybe it was his confidence that kept me calm when we were surrounded by yelling Kenyans, some trying to grab our stuff. I glance back to where he’s sitting on the bus, and see him taking care of things on his phone, communicating with the other squad leaders. All I can think about is how there is no other person that I would rather have on that bus with me. I realize that I trust him with my life. 

 

Same man a couple weeks later…

We’re sitting in a mud house, continuing a conversation we started earlier. He tells me about me.  He’s recognized things in me that I thought were hidden. I feel known around him, and cared for. He tells me the good things in myself that I don’t see. He makes sure I know who I am. I feel so comfortable. That feeling of comfort is what stands out. But before I can fully acknowledge it…

“You’re different from the beginning,” he says. “You can tell that you trust men more than you did.” And the way I’m feeling, that comfort, tells me he’s right.

 

 

I’m the team treasurer. How did our finances get this screwed up? I’m panicking, but he sits with me in the hallway before our finance meeting. He has every right to be upset or angry. I should know better. I used to do the finances for logistics. “Don’t stress about it. It’s not a big deal and we’ll work it all out.” The peace I feel at his words, the grace I sense in the moment. I’m not in trouble. He’s not even a little disappointed. To his core, this man is patient, gentle, and kind. 

 

 

I’m riding on the tailgate of a Tuk Tuk. We’re headed home after a night of village outreach. I saw the way he took those Indian teen boys under his arms, connecting with them even though he didn’t speak their language.  It’s my first real conversation with him. I commend him for his evangelistic heart. He shares the strengths he sees in me. His words hold such power and I feel at ease next to him, open and vulnerable. As we arrive back to the church we call home, I feel more confident in my identity. 

 

 

I’m about to leave the squad and make the drive home. He’s got his arm around me. “Whats the last thing God spoke to you before leaving India?” I tell him. I begin to cry. He turns me towards him and looks straight into me. “Home is going to be hard. It’s going to get confusing. You remember what HE told you.” The authority of his voice assures me everything’s gonna be ok.

 

 It was a year ago that I left for the race. I feel something when I’m back with the men on my squad. I feel empowered and protected. They believe in me, and I believe in each of them.

 

So brothers of M Squad, this is to honor you for all the ways you honored me and my fellow sisters this year. Thank you for loving us when the world had told us we were unlovable. Thank you for redeeming our pasts, when most of the pain had come from men in our lives. Thank you for helping us see our beauty by treating us as precious daughters of the King. Thank you for believing in our abilities even when we didn’t believe in ourselves. Thank you for walking in courage, for it eliminated our fears. Thank you for covering us with your protection when we were weak and vulnerable. Thank you for setting the standard of what godly men look like. Thank you for embodying the characteristics of Christ and tearing down the stereotypes the world has put on you as men.