We’ve all done it. We all do it. Actually (and honestly), probably everyday.
What is it? Duh duh duh da!
Comparison.
Ew, such a nasty word. Am I as smart as him, am I as pretty as her, do I have the ‘stuff’ that they have, so on and so forth.
I’ve caught myself trapped by it many a time, but most recently in a way I never thought possible and absolutely hate myself for ever thinking such things.
Lets get something out of the way.
Fundraising is hard. Like, thousands of thousands of dollars hard. Like, ‘How would I ever in a million lifetimes be able to come up with money that’s equivalent to what could send me through my first year at college’, hard. Like, ‘Laying in bed at 3am wide awake because the stress and fear of not being able to raise enough is eating me alive’, hard.
It’s not supposed to be easy, I know. The things that are the most ‘worth it’ come with the most challenge.
Honestly, it’s stressful. Seeing posts about new blogs my teammates put up, clicking to read, seeing that not-so-little blue bar filled up way more than mine, or even completely filled already, the stories of receiving $1,000 from an anonymous giver. It hurts. And (sad to say), I’ve become jealous. I am jealous. What am I not doing right, that’s working for them so well? What if I can’t do this? What if after all this preparation, all this excitement, all this time waiting, I just can’t?
Here’s the thing.
The whole reason I’m here – that is, at this point in my life, with this trip in the works of being put together – it’s because I was put here. I was placed here, with purpose, otherwise my faith just doesn’t make sense. If I truly believed that I just ended up revisiting the idea of a year long missions trip (when I had heard about it just once, and never gave it another thought for 3 years), and that I got accepted to a squad because I somehow said the right things in my interview, or that those who’ve supported me just did it because why not, or literately any of the blessings that have come into my life and been able to work around this journey, if I really believed all that happened ‘just because’ or by chance, then what does that say about my faith at all? How could I reassure others that God is working in their lives if I didn’t actually believe it myself? There are so many different paths I could be on right now, so how did I end up on this one?
It’s all part of a plan.
One I don’t understand, one that frustrates me and causes stress and anxiety, one that consumes me daily with thoughts of ‘what if’ and ‘why can’t’. What if I made the wrong choice? What if I should be enrolling this fall? Why can’t I just be fully funded already? Why can’t I seem to be as successful at fundraising as everyone else?
It’s not my plan.
But it’s a good one, oh man it’s a good one, and I don’t even know the half of it. It’s weird to remember, but having those Selah moments to think back on how I got here, how I was brought to this point, it’s insane. Like, actually crazy. And in reflecting on those moments, my stress and anxiety melts away, though I’m still filled with thoughts of ‘what if’ and ‘why can’t’. What if I hadn’t gone to India and discovered this love for missions? What if I didn’t remember that crazy sounding mission trip where you sell everything you own and go serve like never before? Why can’t training camp and launch come so much sooner? Why can’t I seem to be able to fit all this stuff in my pack? (I’m working on it, I swear)
I get that way sometimes. Frazzled by it all. The money, the prep, the fundraising, the work, the MONEY (ohhhhh boy). But when I feel those doubts start to creep in, that fear and insecurity of not knowing if this is where I should be, I take a moment to Selah. Pause and reflect. And in this, this moment of remembering what God has done and how He’s worked and always been working in my life, I discover that this isn’t where I should be. It’s exactly where He’s been leading me to all along.
It was never a question of if I made the right choice or not. My faith gives me reason to believe I’d be here even if I didn’t want to be.
I’m simply along for the ride on a path I don’t know and can’t control, and that gives me peace unlike any other.
“I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
– Palm 77:11
