I love travel days. It’s not because of the greasy comfort food I ravenously consume along the way, or the way my clothes smell after wearing them far beyond a socially acceptable time. It’s not the sporadic naps on random airport floors, or even the thrill of collecting more stamps in my passport that I enjoy the most. My greatest delight comes with the knowledge that just for this day, I have no obligations. There aren’t phone calls to make or emails to answer. On days like today, I get to sit and reflect on all that the Lord has been doing. As I sit on a plane headed to Malaysia for my fifth and final month on the field with this squad, I am humbled by the incredible ways that God has so intricately moved allowing for my return to the field a few weeks ago. I can remember it like it was yesterday. After spending 4 really tough but great weeks at home with my family, I eagerly hopped on a plane to Guatemala with high anticipation of the ease that I assumed would come with joining the squad.
Man, was I off the mark on that one.
Instead of being enveloped in a sense of comfort, I was greeted by an old friend of mine. One that I hadn’t seen in quite some time. Comparison. For the first week in Guatemala, I wrestled with insecurities. I believed the lies that I wasn’t needed, that I wasn’t good enough, and that I needed to work harder to catch up with the squad. It felt like I was the new kid who switched schools in the middle of the school year and was out of the social loop. I became hyper aware of the people around me and I constantly compared what I was doing with what they were doing. I was competing in a game against myself and every single time, I lost. I could never measure up to the impossible standard I set for myself. I quickly became tired and frustrated with not only myself, but the people around me.
Why am I telling you this?
Because I’ve come to realize that when I’ve been documenting my life for the past year and a half on the Race, I’ve been leaving out pieces of it. You hear me talk about the marvels and wonders that the Lord is doing around the world but rarely do I share the personal challenges that I experience in the midst of it all. I’ve subconsciously and conveniently cut out what I’ve deemed as the “messy” parts in order to present you with a pretty package of what it looks like to be a missionary.
What I’ve been learning lately is the power of the words “me too.” When we have the courage to speak out the struggles we face it allows others the opportunity to relate to and connect with us in a deeper way. It exposes the lies and we are finally able to see them for what they truest are.
For my first week back in Guatemala, I wrestled with comparison and ended up silently settling into a pity pit. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin and found myself withdrawing a lot. I finally got to a place of desperation that when someone asked me what was happening, I spoke. We were able to have an open conversation and truth was spoken over the lies. It solidified pieces of my identity that I didn’t even realize were previously unsettled. So often in my past, I have shied away from talking openly about my feelings. But after having raw conversation about it, I’ve come to realize the freedom that comes with speaking out the lies.
Simply put, in the light darkness shrinks.
I pray that we would be people who embrace the “messy” parts of life and step into the fullness of what the Lord has for us.
