Several months ago I felt God’s call on my life to go on the World Race. From that point on I felt fizzy; I had these tiny bubbles of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation that would float to the surface and pop, making every nerve in my body tingle. Usually when I thought about it I jumped up and down like a child waiting to open presents. That’s how I viewed the Race; yes it would be difficult, but I saw it as a gift from God. It might cost me my comfort (and perhaps my sanity at times!) but that was inconsequential compared to the amount of growth, love, and adventure with which I would be blessed.
However, weeks prior to launch those bubbles turned to stones of dread within me. My mother’s health began steadily declining at the start of July. That first week we expected her to come home after recuperating from a hip replacement surgery in June. But instead of home, she went to the emergency room and was admitted to the hospital. While we navigated countless scans, physical therapy sessions, and blood transfusions, my launch date of August 3 crept steadily closer, like a lion ready to pounce and devour me.
I wasn’t expecting this.
I can only describe what those days felt like as drowning. I was thrashing around, unable to hold my head above water for more than a second, my lungs filling up so I couldn’t breathe properly. Fear and dread of what the next moments held growing and growing in the pit of my stomach. Every other moment wielded a wave that came crashing over my head and nowhere in sight was there dry land, or even a piece of driftwood, where I could find rest. Every second mattered, yet passed all too quickly in the chaos that I hardly noticed a month slip by. I saw the fins of the questions that swirled around me like sharks sensing my end and waiting for their next meal.
Will you go?
Will you stay?
What are you going to do Megan?
I wrestled with God. For some reason, I equated the choice to stay with distrust in God’s ability to heal her. I felt like I had to leave, to prove I trusted Him to handle the situation and make it better upon my return. I also desperately wanted to go. To be alongside my new friends in the trenches of ministry, demonstrating the love of Christ had a strong pull on my heart. I absolutely refused to make a decision out of fear, and so I clung to my plans to launch. Yet, I was plagued by a feeling that something was wrong.
The more I prayed, the more I realized that the decision to leave was the one that was rooted in fear.
I was afraid if I didn’t leave now, I would never get to go. I was afraid that if I didn’t leave now, all my friends on my squad would forget about me. I was afraid that if I didn’t leave now, my mom wouldn’t receive healing. I felt helpless, and I had a death grip on the one aspect of my life I had the illusion of control over, and I was afraid to relinquish it.
A year ago I prayed for opportunities to step out of the boat and onto the waves in boldness, fully relying on the Lord [Matthew 14:22-33]. God was giving me just that. To step out of the safety of my plans, and into His Presence in the uncertainty of a year when I would have to seek him daily for my next steps; to live in utter reliance on Him. Here He was, reaching out His hand to pull me out of this whirlpool, and yet I chose instead to try (and fail) to tread water on my own. PS, I’ve never been a great swimmer.
So after prayer and the seeking of wise counsel, I decided to defer my launch. My squad has spent their first month in Colombia, and I was here at home.
Do I miss them?
Everyday.
Does my heart break not being with them?
More than I can say.
Do I regret my decision?
Not at all.
To me, regret says “I feel guilty and wish I would have made a different decision.” Despite my sadness and disappointment that this is the way my journey has gone, I am guilt-free, and I know I made the right choice. My family and I are going through the toughest time in our lives, and I know I am where I need to be. I am learning to mourn and to be healed through mourning. My friends have not forgotten me, I keep in touch with them quite regularly. I’m learning how to feel true joy for others who are living the life I dream of. And I still have hope to leave for the Race, even if it’s not when I expected. I’m learning to trust in God’s sovereignty, and live each day fully for the Kingdom.
I am choosing to believe God will take me on the Race at another time. I am reminded of Abraham and Sarah. They were promised a child, despite the odds stacked against them. And a year later, God fulfilled that promise and Isaac was born. [Genesis 17:1-19, 21:1-2] I have a greater understanding now of what they were going through. But let me assure you, He’s in the waiting and He doesn’t waste anything.
The Lord’s timing is perfect. My prayer is for us all to not rush His plans, whether it’s because of fear, greed, impatience, or any other motivation. I pray we live each moment of our lives on the waters with Jesus in total confidence that He will not let us drown, that when we start to sink He will reach out His hand to rescue us. When you feel the wind of the storm and the waves rising to overtake you, seek the Lord, earnestly and desperately. Surrender your expectations for the way your life is supposed to go, grab hold of God’s hand, let Him lead you through the murky waters.
I waited patiently for the LORD;
He turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
Out of the mud and mire;
He set my feet on a rock
And gave me a firm place to stand.
Be pleased to save me, LORD;
Come quickly, LORD, to help me.
// Psalm 40:1-2,13 //
