It was the second day and I already wanted to quit.
What a great way to kick off the Race, right?
I don’t know if it was the exhaustion from 48 hours of travel (half of which were spent on a plane) or some kind of spiritual thing, but I was in a rough emotional and mental place. We had met our ministry hosts for the first time the previous day and had been given a rundown of what we would be doing for the month. It seemed like we were supposed to have all kinds of plans already prepared and I didn’t think I was going to be able to do any of it.
No part of me wanted to be in South Africa. I was engaged in an inner battle with a voice somewhere inside telling me that I should just forget everything and go home. Not that I wanted to – I didn’t – but those thoughts were there, attacking me from all sides. I no longer felt like I fit in with my team, I didn’t believe I had anything to offer, and I was sure that no one would miss me if I left.
But I said nothing. I was not about to be the team basket case, so I kept these thoughts to myself.
At Training Camp one of the speakers had made a comment about emotions and that holding them in unhealthily is like holding a beach ball underwater. It’s going to pop up eventually, but you don’t really know where or when.
In this case it came up when I was standing on the balcony of the house we’re staying at with my squad leader, Zach. He had asked me how I was doing so far and before I knew it, I was spilling my guts to him, not caring what he or anyone else thought of me.
So we talked for a while, mostly me venting about how frustrated I was, but it was good to finally get it out. We kept going until I noticed something outside, and abruptly interrupted our conversation.
“What kind of fruit do you think is growing on that tree down there?”
I pointed out the tree and we speculated for a minute (they turned out to be papayas) taking in the view of the town from above.
At some point Zach speaks again. “You know, I never would have noticed that tree if you hadn’t said anything. I could have gone the whole month without seeing it.”
He went on with something profound that I can’t quote verbatim, but what it all came down to was that I will notice things that no one else does. It doesn’t have to be big things – even just the papaya trees – but for that reason alone I should consider myself valuable.
Sometimes I can feel like if we’re all the Body of Christ, I’m the spleen. You know it has a purpose, but don’t really remember what it does, and you could remove it without any lasting consequences.
But I am nobody’s spleen. (There’s a sentence I never in a million years thought I’d type)
There will be more papaya trees.
