The World Race is not what you think. It’s not always working with orphans, bucket showers, and 30 people in one van. It’s those things sometimes, but not always.
There are many things on the Race that are pretty obviously not the norm at home.
I don’t play with elephants at home.
I don’t hike the amazon at home.
I definitely don’t use a squatty potty at home.
But there are lots of little differences, too, that typically show up in months that feel a creepy level of “normal”. We live in cities and towns that resemble the U.S. and work with established churches and ministries that mirror ones we know from home. But there are always the little differences.
Sometimes ministry looks like walking around malls to just make friends and get to know the community, and the only difference is that your sister isn’t with you.
Sometimes life looks like making time to have meals together and the only difference in cooking potato soup, is that it’s not the pot your mom always uses.
Sometimes birthdays look like being celebrated by your friends and the only difference in opening presents, is the absence of giggles and squeals from nieces, nephews, and little cousins.
Most time travel days are long and you sit for hours in various vehicles and the only difference is that it’s not a jeep and your best friend isn’t driving.
And more times than not those little differences are the hardest things to deal with. Yes, it’s hard to trek the mountains. It’s stretching to wear literally one outfit for a week and call the rain a bath. It is emotionally draining to work with orphans and refugees.
But in those moments, you know you’re nowhere close to home. You know you’re in the middle of The Lord using you for something insane. I have found that sometimes it’s harder to find Him in the moments that seem ordinary. It is easier, then, to wonder why you can’t be doing the exact same thing at home.
So now I ask for your understanding and even more prayers.
I know you’ve prayed me through the jungles of South America and the hospitals of Asia. That’s what, it may seem, you sent me off for!
But I ask you to pray for me still, even when my ministry for the month may not look that much different than yours. Know that He’s still doing something wild, and pray for me to see it.
Because the month of painting, was preparing a hostel to be a place of rest and invitation for travelers.
The month of sitting in coffee shops was making connections for ministries, pastors and future racers.
The month of raking leaves and cleaning was helping a ministry to be ready and welcoming for a season of visitors, making sure there would be nothing hindering the gospel.
And this month, of sipping coffee and playing in the snow, is all about relationships and bringing people into an already established church that is ready to receive them and continue loving and discipling them after I leave.
And all those things were hard for me to see, because I don’t have a lot of tangible things to tell you. I don’t have numbers for people who were healed or came to know Christ. But what I’m learning is that this is the real practice.
It’s almost natural to rely on and seek the Lord in moments when your body is so tired it’s giving out, or when you are put on the spot and asked to preach to a group of people who don’t speak your language. It makes sense to call on His name when you’re sitting in a room full of people afflicted by disease or civil war.
What will I do when I am at home? When I get a “normal” job? When I have a family and get busy running and teaching and taking care of kids?
I hope I will still create a space for my Father. I hope that I will still seek His purpose for each day. These months that don’t fit the mold of a typical mission trip are still preparation. They are preparing me for moments when I’m not necessarily being tested or tried through hardship, but instead am given the choice to give my every moment to His authority.
I am learning that if I ask, He will show up. He will show up on my walk to the grocery store. He will show up in my taxi ride. He will show up in the painting, the coffee shops, the gifts, and the travel days. He will gift me with deeper understanding of His character of friendship and intimacy, and opportunities to share that with people in all of those settings. He doesn’t need a jungle or a mountain or a village to do something radical. He just wants a willing a receptive heart.
