“What manner of man is this that even the wind and the sea obey Him?” -Matthew 8:27
If I had a quarter for the amount of times I have heard the phrase “finish strong,” (referring to the end of our World Race journey) over the last few weeks, I would be able to at least buy myself a decent dinner. Not McDonald’s, friends. I’m talking at least a fancy Chick-fil-a salad, if not the soup, salad, and breadstick lunch deal at Olive Garden.
So “Finish Strong” is just swimming around in my brain, like catchy (if terrible) pop song lyrics.
I can’t outrun it. I went to a church at random this past Sunday and the message was titled “Start Strong, Finish Stronger.” I wasn’t even bitter about it. I sat in my seat, overwhelmed with emotions and memories from the past 11 months, thinking to myself that this message was intended for my team, for my squad, and for my family. I was filled with gratitude.
I don’t know if I would consider my start especially strong. I was shaky. I cried when my parents left Atlanta on September 9th. I had broken up with my boyfriend after hearing the Holy Spirit prompt me to do so at training camp (last July), so I was still nursing a broken heart. I was leaving behind so many people and places and objects I loved. I had a lot of support (financially and otherwise) from my friends and family, but in those weeks leading up to launch, my faith was weak. I had no idea what God was going to do, if I was going to make it to Month 11, if I would absolutely hate my life, or if I would completely lose my head.
But I got on the plane.
“Finishing stronger” at this point may seem inevitable to you after a lackluster start, without the giant leap of faith that most people envision going hand-in-hand with mission work. My start did not mirror that of my Savior’s. He started strong. He went into the desert and after his forty days of fasting and prayer were completed, answered the enemy’s tempting with firm confidence in the Word of God. I trudged to Guatemala, insecure and moderately reluctant.
I’m hoping my finish more aptly mirrors his. I am not asking you to crucify me. I am asking you to allow space for me to look and act very differently than I did 11 months ago. I am asking you to realize that there are parts of Sarah that were that are no more because they have been burned away by the hands of a refining God. I am asking you to allow me to grieve this season of my life. This home-coming, in my head, has been purely sweet for MONTHS. Some days, I have thought of little else. As it rapidly approaches, though, I am beginning to see the bitter more clearly, too. This community of people who have laughed, loved, dreamed, prayed, cried, fought, lived, and worshiped with me for the past year will be no more. We will disperse throughout the United States and re-enter our “normal lives.” The magnitude of this separation has been heavy on my mind lately. The Bible does not mention how the disciples felt when they were called to minister in different directions, but I’d like to believe that while it was exciting to follow the Holy Spirit to find people to minister to, they were no longer a family unit, and there was a certain sadness that came along with that, even after the resurrection of Jesus.
I don’t know precisely what “finishing strong” will look like. I know that I have four days of ministry left. Debrief will begin at the end of those days, and after that I will have one final travel day, back to The United States of America. How will my actions and thoughts in the next two weeks signify a “strong finish”? I’m not sure I know. There is an abundance of mechanisms in place in World Race culture that I will continue to buy into (team time, feedback, etc.), and I will continue to worship Jesus Christ. I will continue to go to ministry with an open mind and an open heart. I will continue to look for opportunities outside of ministry to share the love of Jesus.
July 30th is the end of an era. It is the beginning of a new one. I can’t yet process how I feel about all of the change that’s about to happen. After nearly a year of constantly changing circumstances, more changes on top of that seem completely overwhelming, even if I am surrounded by the people who love me. I think the transition will take a fair amount of remembering that “my life is hid with Christ.” Jesus is my life and because of that, I can do whatever he asks of me.
My next decision, my next move, has to be one of obedience. Because I have walked in obedience on the Race, and because I did get on the plane to Guatemala (and every plane since), I know that God is worthy of my trust. To be fair, he would be worthy of my trust regardless, but I had to find that out on my own. If the wind and the waves are subject to his commands, who am I to disobey?
This is what finishing strong looks like for me. It will look different for all of us, but obedience is my only option, because I know God will never forsake me.
Grace and peace,
Sarah
