Last summer I served on the summer staff at my favorite place in the world: Camp Lone Star. (If you missed my blog about the full story of camp in my life, click here). A tradition that we have at the end of every summer is to award each staff member an intentional award. Each award is specific and unique to that person. The awards range from humorous to serious. For example, one year one of my very close friends was awarded the “Tone Setter” award for her beautiful intensity as a leader on our staff. Another year, I was awarded “CMV Queen” (CMV stands for Christian Music Video, a dance that each group performs at the end of a week at camp) for the catchy dance moves I had incorporated in CMVs throughout the summer. Last summer, I was awarded one of the most impactful awards I’ve ever been recognized for.
One of my best guy friends, Kyle, stood on stage and started to talk about an Illinois girl who left family and a beautiful home to spend a year studying for school and serving at camp in Texas, and on top of that, was about to leave the country for a whole year to continue in the mission of spreading the Gospel. I was given the award he named: Not Home Yet. “You see, Taylor gets it… which is why she is going to leave home, yet again, for the sake of sharing Jesus’ name with the nations.” As I wiped away heavy tears from my eyes, I humbly accepted such a beautiful recognition.
Now, why do I share this? Not to bring glory to myself, my friends, camp, or anyone but Jesus. But to process with you the weight of this award in my heart and the extreme encouragement it has been for me over the past year.
Home. What a powerful word. Those four letters have a way of bringing up so much emotion, so many memories. Whether it’s pain and hurt from a broken place or comfort and memories of spending holidays with family, this word has some serious gravity to it.
Home. The most inconsistent word for me over the past year. Just last month, my team and I moved 10 times. Meaning, we packed up everything we own and traveled a reasonable distance only to sleep in another bed, in a different climate, in new surroundings. Exhausting… That is the word I associate when I think about “home” on the World Race. But yet, I am reminded of what is awaiting me in just a short 47 days…
Home. 4 acres in the countryside of Illinois. Green grass, white horse fences, blooming pink flowers, silence, the smell of dad barbecuing. In my front yard I’ve experienced some of the most peaceful moments of my life: conversations with the Lord with varying emotions, met by the swift breeze across my cheeks and a breathtaking sight of a calm and steady… home.
It’s month 10. We’ve been on the Race for almost 300 days and I would by lying if I said the sweet thought of home doesn’t cross my brain at least once a day. My team and I often discuss the first thing we want to eat when we land on US soil or the thought of sleeping in our own beds. We are so excited to return home. BUT… we’re not home yet.
Before I left for the Race, many people questioned my safety and asked if I was scared to be in situations that could be life threatening. As I thought about it, I realized that I wasn’t scared. Not one bit. Why? Because whether it’s home in Illinois or home with my Heavenly Father, I’m always on my way home. And I have nothing to fear.
Psalms 27:1 says “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” This is my confirmation verse. Though I chose this verse when I was just 13 years old, it has continued to be a rock for me in times of doubt, fear or trouble. The Holy Spirit is within me and when I truly think about what that means, I feel invincible!
I’m not home yet. Which means every week, every day, every hour left of this Race is important. There are still conversations to have, people to meet, churches to serve, children to love, meals to cook, teammates to pursue, songs to be sung, a King to be praised. Leaving everything behind was worth it for the sake of sharing the Gospel with people, in so many different, uncomfortable places. When I think about the early Christians and the beginning of the church, I am overwhelmed to consider the boldness they HAD to have to complete the work they were doing. People were literally hunting them and wanted them killed. They were often imprisoned, flogged, scoffed at, mocked, and cast out. Yet their mission never ceased to continue. And continue in more boldness, it did. I pray for this same boldness. Because every piece of persecution, every unfamiliar bed and the places that are the least like my home… they are worth it for the sake of sharing what Jesus has done.
This is not an easy journey. This truth is hard to walk out and I ask the Lord for strength daily. But it is worth it. I’m not home yet. And even when I return home to my family in Illinois, I can say the same thing. My home is not of this world, so until I join my father in Heaven, I will strive to live a life worthy of the calling he has given me, continually recognizing I am Not Home Yet.
