Sometimes I think of the World Race blog as my safe little space of the internet where no one reads it but me. And maybe Seth Barnes because I’ve never met someone who can read blogs, comment and do two other things at the same time so effectively.
But really, when I want to process something I often type, retype, untype and mistype on my ole blog here. Because the Race, for me, was my safe place. It was where I was loved and accepted just for being me. It’s where I shrugged off the old and tried on the new- and really liked it. It’s where I got over myself and forged ahead into community like I’d never known and where some kingdom dreams were birthed.
And then I got home.
And real life hit me. Some days I feel like I’m in a vacuum that will never end. Wondering what my purpose really is, clinging to what was, hoping for what will come.
I want to be back on the Race every other day.
I saw this guy’s instagram pictures of Berma and Thailand and nearly wept.
I miss the field.
The people.
The adventure.
But I think this is so much deeper than The Race and the wanderlust in me.
I’m afraid to commit to a calling because I am afraid to fail.
There I said it.
In reality, my fear is paralyzing me from moving forward. If you could spend a day in my head, you’d be exhausted. Between me, the enemy and God, it’s like Grand Central Station.
I sobbed the other day for no reason at all except that I just wanted a friend. My troubled heart seemed to explode with frustration as I lamented that I’m wasting my days trying to figure out what the hell my calling is.
We used to say its ok not to be ok and that sentence was like my life mantra. I would sing it from every rooftop and proclaim it in the streets. I kicked the American dream to the curb after I saw poverty of epic proportions and I just knew I was going to move overseas eventually and win everyone for Christ.
It’s so easy to dream.
It’s harder to follow through.
And when there’s a fear of failing going on, it’s nearly impossible to surrender everything to Him.
Tears in my eyes, hands shaking and I feel like puking, but yes, I’m scared to death to fail.
Revelation doesnt just happen on the Race (praise God) but perhaps it’s somewhat easier when we are void of distraction.
Last weekend, my husband took me to our farm and strummed his guitar and worshipped his Savior with His whole heart. And in those moments, as I was journaling, breakthrough happened and something shifted.
I came home from the Race with a dream and something to prove.
Failing was not an option.
And I’ve never spent a year more humbled.
Because I have fallen on my face more times than I can count.
I’ve cared what people thought of me and I’ve really wanted man’s approval. And if we’re being real honest, I had pride out the wazoo because I had been a missionary and that surely deserves a certain level of respect.
Right?
Dear Lord.
My expectations have been off the charts.
Yet in the still quiet whisper of my heart, I hear the Lord say,
You are not a failure
You are not who you see yourself as
You are so dearly loved
You are My child
So though it doesn’t always feel any different, I know change is coming. It’s already happened. I can feel it in my bones that Joy is just around the corner. It’s mine to grasp onto because He promises that Joy is my strength. And I choose Joy. I choose not to focus on what might happen or what might fail. I choose to keep my eyes posted upward and my heart ever willing to hear the voice of my Jesus. I’m so thankful He loves me because He loves me because He loves me.
I’m thankful for my husband and my friends and our family because it’s through our community, our people, our tribe that sometimes God speaks the loudest.
So get outta here failure. This is sacred ground and there’s no room for lies.
Amen.
