Training camp was among one of the most intense experiences of my life—if not the most intense. I’m not the kind of girl you’d catch outside everyday. Though the idea of being outdoorsy sounds like so much fun to me, I’ve never actually taken any steps toward that kind of lifestyle. That being said, you can only imagine how my first few days of sleeping in a tent and carrying a pack around in the Georgia heat went.
Our first morning, I woke up and thought, “What on earth did I just get myself into?” I had barely slept the night before and had hunger pains that made me want to curl up into the fetal position. But much to my stomach’s dismay, breakfast was a giant bowl of soup shared by 7 other squad mates after a nice little workout to build our appetites. It’s safe to say I was regretting not bringing any snacks.
As the days passed, my discomfort eased. I was still hungry constantly, but I wasn’t starving; I was still covered in dirt and sweat, but it made those cold bucket showers all the more enjoyable; I was still sore and exhausted, but I was sleeping like a baby. The physical part of training suddenly wasn’t all that bad.
I knew these next months were about abandonment, which seemed easier than I had originally thought halfway into training camp. I started thinking, “Psh. I got this. I don’t need a bed or air conditioning or running water or snacks.” (Okay that last one is still going to take some getting used to). The whole “living outside of my comfort zone” thing wasn’t all that uncomfortable.
It wasn’t until the last night I realized that I hadn’t experienced total abandonment. Sure, I had given up the material things but I was still holding onto a few others. I was comfortable because I was clutching my own plans for my life, which allowed me to feel like I was in control.
Of course I had no idea what career path I was going to take when I came home or where I would live, but I was sure of one thing—I had someone waiting for me. Marriage was on the horizon. I could plan for that. That’s all I needed. Just a little hint of control in the midst of all these things I couldn’t plan for.
And God said, “Let go.”
And I knew He was right. I knew this was something He’d been pursuing me with all the way through training. I knew that was why I felt a wall between us. Because even though I had surrendered my “little comforts”, I hadn’t fully surrendered the big one—control.
As I sat looking at the stars and listening to Bethel sing my heart’s cry on that last night of camp, I swallowed my pride and gave God control of my life. All the while He whispered sweet comforts to me. Lovingly reassuring me that He goes before me and stays with me (Deuteronomy 31:8).
It’s funny that we feel like something is going to be the hardest thing in the whole world to do, and then it just isn’t. Then it feels like freedom. Then it’s a burden lifted from your shoulders. Then it draws you into intimacy with Jesus.
And the very thing you thought was going to tear you apart, actually makes you whole again.
So I’ve decided to stay here outside of my comfort zone. It’s not always fun and it definitely keeps me on my toes, but I like it here. Here is where Jesus is. Here is where I want to pitch my tent and stay for a while.
