Before I was leaving for the World Race, I would tell people that I was packing up my life into two backpacks. That I would be stuffing my entire life into a 75 liter pack and a 28 liter pack, only bringing the essentials. And for a long time I thought that was true. I wrote a blog before I left about the misplaced importance on stuff. About how the Lord was teaching me about materialism and how he doesn’t have a place in that. I thought I had learned my lesson but the fact is, God was preparing me to learn that lesson. I truly did not learn it until this morning, when I had repacked my backpacks and was sitting on the porch of my home of the last three months. The Anchor Center, a home large enough to fit myself, my 46 squamates, 2 team leaders and 3 squad leaders and frankly not much else. My only personal space belonged on the twin bunk I slept in. And that was it. I was happy with it, too. The fact is, during my time in Swaziland, I spent hardly any of my time in this singular spot that was mine. I more enjoyed reading through Psalms in the common room with a dozen of my friends doing the same and a cup of instant coffee, or having late night conversations marveling at the stars on what we all referred to as the poop deck which was just a large slab of concrete concealing the septic tank. I always preferred worshipping with friends, playing an always appreciated game of spicy uno (uno with extra fun rules) or going down to the playground down the road to play with the children there. Sometimes we would walk further and go to a tiny shack down the road that sold Stoneys (ginger beer), Sunny lemon cookies and NikNaks (Cheetos wannabes). Spending time in my small heap of stuff was very rarely my activity of choice. It wasn’t until I had to repack it all again that I realized that these things weren’t my life at all. I was never stuffing my life into a backpack. My life isn’t something I can buy or use or wear. And it by no means is tangible. Swaziland taught me that I don’t need any thing to be happy. I didn’t even realize this was a lesson I had to learn until a few weeks ago when one of my teammates asked for some of my Nutella and said no that I realized, I’ve been putting a lot more stock into my things than I thought. The last few weeks I have had to continually remind myself that they are only things. I can always buy a new bottle of water or use my power adapter later. Of the limited belongings I brought on the race, none of them are mine. Yes, I said it, absolutely nothing I carry in my pack belongs to me in any sense. It was when I stopped putting unnecessary stock in stressing over sharing my things, that I started to relax and enjoy the real joys of community living and operating in the body of Christ. I only need God, community, and once I love both of those with my whole heart, that will be my life. I feel as if I can finally say that I am carrying my life. It’s just not in my pack.
