The World Race is usually fast-paced. You move. You feel like a foreigner. You attempt to settle into the culture. You get involved in ministry/grocery shopping/blog writing, and suddenly a day is filled with scheduled activities.
It almost feels like home.
Sometimes, however, you are handed a not-so-busy month. (Insert India here.) Extreme weather conditions allow for a daily schedule that looks a little something like this: wake up, run, breakfast, hang out, lunch, hang out some more, leave for ministry around 5:00, get home around 11:00. We work when we can survive the heat.
This schedule allows for a good bit of morning/afternoon processing time. The things I have been thinking about lately? Home. Growth. Life. The usual.
India has handed me the most massive case of culture shock that I have experienced on the Race. As a team, we feel offensive at almost every turn. Wait, we can’t wave or smile if men are around? It seems flirtatious? Playing cards is illegal? I promise, I don’t want thirds because I’m FULL, not because your food doesn’t taste good. You really can’t buy toilet paper anywhere?
I love the beauty, the spices, the people… but to be honest, I have just never felt so far from home. The language barrier prevents using words to explain my intentions. My usual fall back plan of awkwardly smiling when things get lost in translation, well, that’s now off limits.
We can’t go anywhere by ourselves. When we do leave the house, people gawk. Justin Bieber has nothing on us. A lot of villagers have never seen white people before, and I have awoken a few times to kids standing outside my tent. Just staring. And giggling.
It feels nothing like home.
Neighborhood kids coming to stare… I mean, say "hi."
Now, back to the thinking/processing/learning portion of this blog. With so many aspects of life feeling foreign and uncomfortable, I find myself longing for America more than usual.
With thoughts of home come thoughts of re-entry (inward gasp of fear and feelings of potential discomfort). I’ve heard the horror stories:
“All of my friends got married or engaged while I was gone. I am all alone in life!”
“After the World Race I was depressed. My family and friends haven’t held orphans in Africa. They don’t understand me anymore.”
“I went back to America and cried in the middle of Target. We just have TOO MUCH STUFF.”
Sure, I get it. This has been a crazy year. However, I usually hear things like this and just laugh at the absurdity. I know my friends and family still love me. They will want to hear stories as long as I don’t talk about squatty potties 24/7. I rarely worry about feeling like a stranger in my own land, and if one thing is for sure… Target will never make me cry.
Still, change in me is a reality. In Moldova, Team Oasis started actively fighting the desire to gossip. I have now been living in a healthy and safe team environment (all girls!) without toxic behind the back whispering or venting. The Lord did a major work in my heart during the month in Mozambique. He walked me through a period of searching for significance after realizing my obsession with status, approval and achievements.
The changes are subtle, I think. It’s less about altering my actions and more about modifying my mentality. Doing ministry all over the world, seeing the depths of brokenness and pain, it has done nothing if not given me a more eternal perspective.
The question still lingers. How will these changes be received at home? I want to bring what I’ve learned and shout it from the rooftops! But what if I am perceived as self-righteous? What if my friends have bonded and grown without me? What if everyone I know is stable with a steady job and new car?! (That status thing… yeah, still working on it.) I could potentially be an outsider in a place that was once my comfort zone.
As my mind was reeling in the dark abyss of this thought process, I remembered words spoken at a church service in Swaziland:
We were not made for this world. Our home is the Kingdom of Heaven, and we are ALL foreigners (World Racer or not!).
The truth of these words brings such comfort as I try to rationalize the existence of pain and fear as a believer. It makes my frustrations with circumstances and desire to feel “at home” seem so… unnecessary.
In this life, I have experienced much joy. God has given me depth in relationships, a love for nature and art, a beautiful family and the thrill of adventure. I know the truth of His word and the reality of His love.
It almost feels like home… but it’s not.
I have also the seen the devastating effects of abuse and the pain in poverty. I still struggle with disobedience, fear and envy. As much as I want them to be, my relationships aren’t perfect. The number of tear-streaked faces engrained in my mind is countless. How is this the case? Why?
Lord, why?
I’ve asked this question time and time again, and the only answer that resonates in my soul is this: we were made for better. We were designed for perfect intimacy with God, and our time in this fallen world is temporary. The Kingdom of Heaven is near; Jesus preached this over and over.
Even though it may feel like it at times, we are not yet home.
