I know when I came to you and told you I was considering going on the World Race, a lot of you thought it was a crazy idea. Some thought it would be impossible to raise that amount of money. I heard my immune system might be too weak. There were worries it would be unsafe. You worried about the credibility of the organization. People worried my heart would be broken by what I saw and that it would at times weaken my faith. There were worries I’d hear false doctrine. Some worried something would happen to me. I think I’d have all of the same worries as a parent or loved one.
You were right about all of it.
It was a crazy idea. Especially knowing me- an introverted narcoleptic that’s allergic to grass and bugs… living out of a backpack in a community of 30 plus people for 11 months, constantly facing uncertain circumstances. You were right. It is crazy. Just this week I was sitting on the cement floor of a one-room school house with sweat dripping down my temples. Covered in dirt and holding a sleeping toddler, I listened to the room full of middle schoolers worship God in their native language. I closed my eyes with a smile on my face and thought to myself, “is this real life?” Sometimes it just hits me out of no where how unconventional this lifestyle is and how precious these experiences are. Camping next to the Zambezi River, seeing animals in the wild, sharing parts of my testimony with people in remote villages, combating spiritual warfare, seeing one of the seven natural wonders of the world, waking up with a cockroach on my pillow, taking bucket showers, praying the boldest prayers I’ve ever prayed. It’s all pretty crazy.
You were right about the price tag too. To be honest, I thought 18,100 dollars was impossible. As time went on I realized more and more how big of a number that is. There were times I broke down in tears wondering if God would come through. I doubted myself more than I doubted him. Was I doing enough? Was I doing my part to reach the goal? I was terrified. Most of my squad mates in other parts of the country were meeting their fundraising deadlines and I was lagging behind. I felt isolated in the struggle. I started to think maybe I misheard God. Maybe He didn’t want me to go on the race. I started to listen to the lies of the enemy that this dream was too big. Satan questioned my ability to hear the voice of the Lord. Just like he did to Eve in the garden. Just Iike he did to Jesus in the wilderness. The sad thing is that I thought maybe he was right. But in that season of waiting God was refining me, I just didn’t know it. How I felt left me no choice but to depend on Him. I was not going to get there by my own effort. He said, “Do you trust me? Have I ever failed to provide for you?” He doesn’t call us to things and leave us hanging. He wants us to dream big dreams that seem impossible to conquer. It brings him glory to show up in a way only He can show up. I cannot raise 18,100 dollars. I did not raise 18,100 dollars. God did.
My immune system is weak. I have narcolepsy. Once I’m tired enough, I get sick. You were right to question if I was healthy enough to go. And I see that all of these worries were in love. I appreciate you loving me enough to ask the hard questions. I’ve actually seen narcolepsy as much more of a strength on the race than a weakness. I can sleep on a bumpy bus ride. Apparently I can sleep with my head on a tray table on a plane for 11 hours straight. There are times I’m exhausted on the race, but I think it’s the normal people kind of exhausted. When you come home from a long day and you’ve worked hard and you’re justifiably tired. I’ve been that kind of tired a lot. My heart gets tired too. Tired of social injustices. Tired of community living. Tired of being over stimulated. Tired of traveling. Tired of bus rides. Tired of sweating all the time. Just tired. But I think one of my biggest problems before the race was not knowing what to do with a tired heart. I didn’t know how to seek rest for my soul, just for my body. A couple months before the race I was at a fundraiser for my friend & squadmate, Taylor. The girl that put on the fundraiser for her knew I was going on the race too. She approached me afterward and told me the Lord gave her a clear vision of me in a canoe surrounded by trees. She said I was visibly dirty and tired. But I was smiling and consumed by God’s peace. I told her about my excessive tiredness. She told me she wouldn’t be surprised if it was less of a struggle for me on the race because I would be actively living out a call God placed on my heart. She was right. The Lord has put a smile on my face when I’m tired and He’s carried me through.
The race is unsafe. Most foreign countries 911 calls aren’t met with superheroes coming to the scene in a moment’s time. You may have to wait for hours and depending on the country, the law enforcement isn’t to be trusted. In Nicaragua the person at fault in a car accident goes to jail no matter what. In Honduras I was sitting in the front seat next to our bus driver for a couple of hours and we had become friends. He had a moment of defensive driving and it got us into a conversation about driving laws. I asked about car insurance and he laughed. They don’t have that there. Some people drive without a license. In fact, driving drunk isn’t even illegal. If you’re caught you just pay a fine. My foot brushed over something on the ground later. It was a baseball bat. I asked my friend Edgar why he had a baseball bat and he said “oooh you’ve found my insurance!” Sometimes the closest clinic is a couple hours away. You can’t predict a lot of things. I walk into people’s homes that I don’t know. There’s questionable transportation I often just pray my way through. 15 people in the back of a pickup truck, as many people in a taxi as possible, unmarked cars, etc. There’s marriage proposals from strangers. Cat calling on the streets. Sometimes there’s uncomfortable situations. I’m not naive enough to think that I’m invincible from danger just because God asked me to be on this journey. But I can stand confidently in the authority Christ has given us and pray for protection and provision. I can plead the blood of Christ over every circumstance, uncomfortable or not. The truth is, no where is ‘safe.’ If we live our lives so concerned with being safe and comfortable, we may miss the biggest things God has planned for our lives.
It is hard to put full faith in an organization you’re giving a year of your life to. Depending on your google search, you can find naysayers on anything. I’d venture to say it’s a good thing there’s opposition to AIM on the internet because if you’re ever doing something big for the kingdom, Satan is going to come in and try to attack it. Not to say all the negative things are invalid, because everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Sure, there’s times on the race I may have structured something differently, made a different call here and there, or been discouraged by a circumstance, but I knew that submission is what I signed up for. Plus, AIM asks for our feedback and constantly implements change to make the program better. After being on the race and seeing all the logistical nightmares that could have come to be, I understand the concern people may have had about committing to this thing. Of course the Lord calls us to use wisdom. He doesn’t want us to walk in blind. Do your research. Ask lots of questions. Talk to people that have gone on the race before. But at the same time, I knew I didn’t have to know all the answers, because I knew God’s call.
You worried my heart would be broken by what I saw and that it would at times weaken my faith. My heart has been broken a thousand times since the race began. Here in Swaziland (now eSwatini), 350,000 of the 500,000 children here are orphans due to the HIV/AIDS epidemic. Witchcraft is a prevalent issue here. When someone wants to run for political office they may visit a witch doctor who will then instruct them to retrieve human body parts in order to win the election. Children, who walk miles by themselves, are snatched off the road and used as a sacrifice. Last year alone, 2,000 children went missing. Also being only 20 minutes from the South African border, this area of eSwatini is a hub for human trafficking. I think of the little kids I’ve fallen in love with here. I can’t possibly imagine something happening to them. This brokenness is just an awful reality to wrap your mind around. I’ve cried a lot, especially this month. I’ve been angry with God. I’ve been angry with myself that I’m only in a position to provide micro level impact rather than make a macro level change on these social injustices. All of this breaks God’s heart too. When his children are hurting, He’s hurting. When my faith is weakened one moment, God builds it back stronger than it was before. When my heart shatters, he mends it back together. How? When I’m holding a little giggly child, God sweetly reminds me that His joy doesn’t have limits. The fullness of His joy can be found anywhere. One morning I was brought to tears as we talked through some of the things we’ve seen here. I went and sat on the back of the team house and cried.
“What are you doing to change this God? Where is the hope?”
God gently reminded me of the ground where I was sitting. My back was leaned up against the team house- a building built to host missionaries. I was looking at a playground where pre-schoolers run and play five days a week. A garden out in the distance, still on the base, where locals can plant vegetables for their family as long as they take care of their plot. There are 44 care points in eSwatini, 13 that AIM has paired with, where children come after school to play and have a meal, one provided by partners like Unicef, Feed the Starving Children, World Vision, and Compassion Project. Local ‘shepherds’ are in charge of each care point and go through training to be certified. Each care point also has a ‘go-go,” or chef that makes all of the meals. AIM helps with various projects in the area like building a well for the community, but will only do so if community members help with the process so there is a sense of ownership that comes with it. They work to empower locals as much as possible. There’s evident brokenness here. But also evidence of God’s goodness.
You worried I’d hear false doctrine. I have. Not from AIM, but from other churches or people we’ve been in contact with. There was a church our team visited where the congregation was split with women on one side and men on the other. Women were to sit on the ground while men had chairs. We visited a church just this last week and found out when we left that the pastor had two wives. It is unsettling to have a wonderful and encouraging conversation with someone that claims to, and probably does, love Jesus and then find out that some of their core beliefs are off. But again, it’s our job to love and sometimes we just have to leave the rest to the Lord.
You worried something would happen to me. It has. I’m not going to come back the same person I was when I left. This race has changed me and opened my eyes to so much. My perspective has changed, my gratitude has changed, my awareness of social injustices has grown, my heart has changed, my intimacy with the Lord has grown as has my heart for people.
I can’t begin to name all the ways I’m different because I’m still processing a lot of it and might not even know until I get back and re-enter, the extent to which this journey has impacted my life.
The race is all about going out and sharing the love of Jesus around the world. It’s about sanctification and learning how to walk more intimately with God. As much as the race is a catalyst for good, I don’t want those good things to over-shadow the hurt I’ve caused by leaving. Know that I miss being in the know what’s been going on in your lives. I miss coffee dates with friends and hour long phone calls. I miss dinner dates with each of my grandparents. I’m missing watching little Caroline grow. I’m missing several of my dearest friends’ wedding days and it hurts knowing I won’t be standing by your side on your big day. I’m sorry for not being there. I realize it’s easier for me to pack up my backpack and go, having a world of adventures and never ending newness ahead of me, than it may be for you, wondering when you’ll hear from me next. Thank you. Thank you for letting me go. Thank you for understanding this is something I needed to do. I love all of you and miss you very much.
Love, Julie
