I’ve been pretty well off the grid for the last 2ish weeks. On October 14, I packed up my car and set out on a cross country adventure. I traveled from El Paso, TX, through Austin and Houston, onto Gainesville, FL, and finally to Gainesville, GA to partake in the World Race glory that is training camp.
Ah, training camp. Where do I even begin? I’ve had 4 days in the car of solid driving to process all that happened during our time at camp and I still don’t know what to say to summarize the experience I just had. I got to meet my squad for the first time and we were put into our ministry teams (shout out Team Haven!) to bond and get to know each other. We shared food (that we ate with our hands), shared laughs, shared tears, shared tents, shared the community sweater. We were together in a group for 10 days.
I went into training camp convinced that I was a full blown extrovert. I am so, 100%, completely wrong. This is a story of how I met Jesus in the port-a-potty.
Boundaries are not a thing that the World Race believes in when it comes to personal relationship with God. We were pushed beyond comfortability almost as soon as registration was done on the first night. We talked about everything, but a great deal of time was spent on going back to our past and processing emotions in a healthy way that we may have stuffed down or completely ignored up until this point. We went through pain, shame, forgiveness. In all honesty, it was brutal. I felt like I had been splayed open and left to the birds.
I was an emotional wreck, and for the most part I tried to keep it to myself. The enemy is really great at convincing you that your problems are insignificant when compared to others. Right as I was beginning a spiral into self loathing, we had a session that specifically spoke about comparison. The speaker said that comparison is the thief of joy.
And so, with that information, I did what any sane person would do. I went to my prayer closet. At home, that’s my car or my bedroom, but at camp when you’re constantly surrounded by your squad, the only solitude you can find is within the confines of a port-a-potty. So in I went. I spent some solid time in that thing and vowed that I wouldn’t come out until I could look myself in the 3″x4″ mirror and honestly leave my grief behind me.
Switching gears, journaling is therapeutic for me. It gives me an outlet to say things to people without really saying them. I sat and wrote letters of forgiveness to some of the people in my past who have hurt me. I put my emotions in black and white rather than continuing to run from them and lie myself into believing I had processed them. I wrote letters to God asking for some beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. I was crying in a port-a-potty with my journal and I felt like the most pathetic person in the world. I wanted to sneak away in the middle of the night to my car and just leave without a single goodbye.
We had another session to go to as a team so my port-a-potty meeting with Jesus was cut short. In that session, the speaker said that we are called to do hard things and that through those things we find healing and growth. If the emotional roller coaster I was on had already crashed, it was now on fire. Why were these people stalking me and reading my journal?
And so it went the first few days of camp. Session, prayer closet, session, prayer closet, and so on. I had to work a lot of things out, but I finally found my answer.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that most of what I was taught about God growing up was laced with personal opinion and void of scriptural truth. It has been a major source of bitterness for years, and it was time to let it all go. And I do mean ALL. In my final port-a-potty conference, I listed out all the unresolved emotions I had from my past. Anger, fear, regret, resentment, shame, anxiety, guilt, pain. I made a laundry list of things that made me who I am according to the world, and then I made a list of what God says about me and who I am in Him. I wrote my own version of the 95 Thesis and resolved to leave it in that port-a-potty. (No, I didn’t actually nail it to the door…but in my heart I sure did.)
In response, as I was sitting with the Lord later in the week, He asked me to write a letter to myself from Him. This is what the Lord told me:
Dear Amanda,
You are my daughter. I knew where you would walk. I knew the choices you were going to make. I saw the pain you would feel. I heard your cries of brokenness before I ever created you. Your beauty is greater than any choice you have made. Your worth doesn’t come from your past or your story. It comes from Me. You chose to walk into darkness, but I followed you. I bring beauty from ashes and since you wouldn’t let Me break you, I had to let you break yourself. I already put the pieces back together. You are renewed and made whole. Your story is not only a gift to you, but a gift to those you tell. And though they may not understand, you are not a picture of dirty or broken. You are a picture of hope and restoration. At times your story is planting seeds, sometimes watering, sometimes weeding, and sometimes the harvest. Don’t be discouraged. Lean into Me and allow Me to use your story to speak into those who don’t know Me yet and who are still in the midst of their shame. Trust me.
Love,
God
The Lord is still working through the things I learned at training camp, and if anything, I now have a much clearer picture of how to walk with Him. This experience felt like a springboard into the adventure He is taking me on in the coming year, and I can’t wait to share with y’all!
Fundraising update: I still need about $4,500 to meet my second fundraising goal by December 18. Meeting this goal will allow me to launch with my squad! As the Lord leads you, please feel free to click on the Donate button and make a one-time or monthly tax deductible donation to help fund this mission trip!
Blessings
xo Amanda
