Today, I'm excited and even thrilled to know/announce/blog-about-the-fact that I'm enrolled and committed to go on The World Race in January of next year.
For those who don't know, I'll talk more about the World Race in a later post, but for now, I'll fill you in with this much: The World Race is an 11 month missions trip spanning 11 countries and 3 continents.
Although I imagine most "Racers" are immediately excited when hearing of their acceptance, that wasn't my experience. I didn't arrive at this outlook and anticipation immediately or easily. Read below what the first 24 hours of my week-long journey to excitement, confidence, and reliance were like. . .
– edited writings from my personal journal on August 7th, 2013 –
8/7/2013
The Broken Pot Breaks . . . (I Don't Want to Go)
Yesterday, I received the call I had been waiting about a month and a half for — the call where a nice girl I've never talked to before tells me I've been accepted to go on the World Race, and what my next steps in enrolling are. I was hoping for the news to come with a wave of excitement, like when I got accepted to go to worship ministry school in Colorado a few years ago, or like the anticipation of holding a cute girl's hand for the first time.
Instead, I was hit with a painful reality. Not right away, in the moments of the phone call, but over the next exhausting 24 hours, full of tears, fears, and nowhere near enough sleep, excitement was nowhere to be found.
As the news of being accepted settled in, and the wild idea became more of a reality, my emotional response was this: I didn't want to go on the world race. Although it sounded like an amazing opportunity, I didn't want to give up what it would require of me. I didn't want to give up the luxury of friends, the hope of a new romantic relationship, or the feeling of safety and security that comes with the familiar. I didn't want to miss out on a year of my life, only to come back to America, alone, single, jobless, and homeless. What's more – In my hysteria, I didn't think I could handle the emotional challenge. In those hours in the middle of the night, my weaknesses seemed miles high.
As I sat in the dark at 3 and 4am, looking at nothing, emotional pain twisted my heart into unforgiving knots. For the first time ever, I considered calling an emotional crisis hotline. I felt weak, afraid, and powerless. God felt distant, and I was all alone with my insecurities, amplified a thousand times over. There was no end in sight, and I could almost feel spiritual oppressors laughing at me. I had only the strength to sit, let them cackle, and wait.
(Cue: Man in the Sand)
Man in the Sand is an original song I wrote several weeks ago, when facing the reality of not being able to fix myself of my own power. Like a man stranded on a deserted island, sometimes our only available response is to rest in and wait on God to save us.
As the night raged on, I couldn't shake one idea that seemed too real to ignore — I HAVE to go on this trip. Something in me, something God-inspired, won't let me chicken out, give up, or let my fears control me. I have to do this. Do I have the choice to say no? Of course. Or at least that's my perception. But can I let myself choose that? Not a chance. If it's the last thing I do, the calling in my heart and in my spirit to go be God's hands and feet, to die to myself for the sake of others can't be denied.
And dying to myself started last night. As the heightened emotions slowly came to an idle, and as the reality of how challenging this is for me went from a roaring, all-consuming storm of pain and fear to still pools of evidence of the storm, I couldn't help but grab ahold of my calling, and charge forward like a warrior in battle.
A part of me doesn't want to go, but I must go. I'm not ready, but I am ready.
World Race: Here. I. Come.
-Arden
Suffering is appointed for us in this life as a great mercy to keep us from loving this world more than we should and to make us rely on God who raises the dead. "Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God" (Acts 14:22).
-John Piper, Desiring God (link)
