Walking towards training camp, a lady named Karen greeted me with a poignant, but simple question. “Why are you walking alone?” Confused, I retorted with a quizzical expression. Such a thing wouldn’t normally even register as a memory, but her words struck me. She never waited for an answer, offered to carry my pack, and walked in step with me until the registration tent was just up ahead…
For years I’ve built walls. I’d like to think I’ve perfected the art. Brick-by-brick and hurt-by-hurt I surrounded myself with what I thought would protect me from pain. What I didn’t realize, however, was that in the process I shut everything else out too. I shut out family, friends, and genuine relationships. I shut out joy, love, and grace. I shut out God.
The worst part of it all was the pain was still there. It just hid behind anger, bitterness, and sarcasm. I would tell myself that I had it under control, that I didn’t need anyone or anything. I thought I could fix it. You see that’s where pride came in. For so long, my pride robbed me of healing. It refused to let me look beyond myself. It led to shame and ultimately the choice to hide all the ugly and broken parts of me. It kept me trapped in the lie that hope exists outside of God.
When I signed up for the World Race, I wasn’t ready. Actually, I was probably the least prepared, most ill-equipped I had ever been in my life. I was making a mess of things. Caught up in my own struggle, I steamrolled over those closest to me with little regard for anyone but myself. I didn’t realize it then, but the moment I hit send on that application, was the moment this journey began.
…Karen’s question didn’t enter my mind again until midway through camp. It was a particularly rough day for me emotionally. We were challenged to process a lot of the things I’d spent the majority of my life running from. One of the biggest walls I’d ever built was constructed in 2008 when my grandmother passed away unexpectedly. She was my world and she’s still the woman I aspire to be. What I had never realized though, was that I had put so much of my faith and spiritual journey in her, that when she died I felt abandoned, not only by her, but also by God. I’m not certain if finally being able to name that made things better or worse, until I begged God to reveal himself to me in that situation. With a jarring explosion, my wall crumbled. I could feel peace flooding into my soul. Like Karen, God stood before me and I could hear Him audibly wondering the same thing. “Why are you walking alone?”
He hadn’t abandoned me.
In that moment, my life collided with His unparalleled love and I was ripped wide open.
