For those of you who know me well, you know that I almost never make decisions just by myself. I prefer to have at least four members of my Spiritual Fam’s analysis of whatever situations could potentially unfold from each of the options I have and their personal opinion on which they think I should choose. The World Race was nothing like that. I stopped in the middle of my application, which I had stumbled upon on a windy Thursday in October, and texted one of my dearest compadres, Luke McCarthy. “What if I applied to the World Race?” “Do it!!” Two exclamation points. Perhaps three, but it was definitely not one. I left it at that.
Beyond going in depth about foreseeable obstacles regarding the race, my response to failures, and the accountability I had in my life, I had forty questions to answer about trauma, past mistakes, present struggles, and imperfections. Once you get past that stage of basically vomiting your life story “basics” into the ears of The Stranger (the Adventures in Missions staff member) you’re passed on to an online interview. Did you guess that they weren’t going to leave it at the basics? Because they certainly didn’t. May as well have dissected me whilst living, only mildly squirming there on a metal sheet of a table as they prodded at my intestines. Gross, huh? Well it was. However if there was one thing the application and online interview did for me, it was open my eyes to how gruesome the things I’ve committed are. You have two options when you start to feel this weight: Accept it, ask forgiveness, and let God work in you, or wallow in a trench. So for a few minutes I thought to myself, “am I cut out for this? Shouldn’t they want a person whom hasn’t struggled with perfectionism, addiction, anxiety, ADD, negativity, etc.?”
God’s grace is big enough. If The Stranger would have denied me solely based on my number or severity of wrongs, they would have been denying God, and the entire reason He sent His Son. So this is why I continued. A few days later, I received an email from The Stranger titled, “Interview Follow Up” requesting to schedule a phone interview. I thought to myself, “is this really what I want to do? Am I fit for this? Is this how I apply the gifts God has given me?” After thinking for a while, I decided that I did not want to give up my comfort or security in my house, my community, my food, my access to running water and advanced hospitals. I’m doing ministry here already. Why change anything? So I ignored the email for as long as I could. A week later, I got another email titled, “Interview Follow Up Attempt”. I didn’t want to leave this person hanging. I also didn’t want to back out of such a huge thing via email. So I scheduled the call, hoping to discuss withdrawing my application.
However, God does incredible things. Within minutes before my scheduled call, my mindset changed to “Why not give this a shot?”. I was laughing with my dear friends Nico, Abby, and Tara as my phone began to buzz. My heart stopped and it seemed a boulder appeared in my throat. “Um, that’s world race” I said. Abby exclaimed encouragements as I stepped out of the room.
The Stranger-Ana. Her name was Ana. We prayed, we chatted, and I became vulnerable. I didn’t squirm. I was honest, and I cried. Ana spoke, “I can sense the Holy Spirit in you.” It was one of the weirdest things someone has ever said to me, but suddenly, I felt it too. He unburied wreckage I dug graves for years ago during that phone call. He healed things I expected to be infected wounds for the rest of my life. Was I called to go on the race? Not specifically. I told Ana. She assured me that He will make it clear to me. I did not know if I believed her.
That day continued, as most do. I found myself at a worship night with some of my friends. My old youth group team was one of the three teams leading worship that night. During their set, completely unexpectedly, I was overcome with a presence I have never felt before. He was there with me. He brought me to my knees and I wept, on the floor of an unfamiliar church, surrounded by many people but only the Spirit mattered. “What makes me worthy of this encounter Lord?” “You’re going.” And I broke down. I argued with Him. I resented Him for a minute, honestly. I had claimed I had given my life to the Lord. But if it was His, why was I telling Him no to sending me? We are created for this. We are created to go when He says go, and stay when He says stay. A few months ago when I was offered a full ride scholarship to the university I wanted to attend, He said to stay. That was a step out of my comfort zone. Now He says to me, “Go.”
I was reminded of Luke 9, that night.
57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 58 And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” 59 To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.” 60 And Jesus said to him, “Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Yet another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 62 Jesus said to him, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
The Message version of 62 reads, “Jesus said, ‘No procrastination. No backward looks. You can’t put God’s kingdom off till tomorrow. Seize the day.’”
I couldn’t look back. I ran towards Him.
November 9th rolled around and I was getting ready to attend the Wednesday night children’s ministry I volunteer at. 4:53pm. Guess World Race isn’t calling. Perhaps I’m not accepted. That’s okay, I’ve seen every world race vlog posted on youtube at this point, and I’ve lived vicariously through them. This whole “world race” thing seemed terrifying anyway. And then the phone rang. I paused my world race vlog. I jumped up from my seat. I trembled as I answered. And as John said the words, “I’d like to officially accept you to the World Race. Congratulations!”, I broke down.
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When I was little, beginning when I was just a toddler, my mom had a collection of books about missionaries. I remember the designs, dark brown rims and a little map looking thing on the front. The font looked something like times new roman but a little less compressed. My brother and I would sit in his bedroom as our mom would read us the stories. I used to think they were crazy. They gave their every penny to travel to meet complete strangers, live in a foreign place, and attempt to communicate with people that did not speak the same language, all for the purpose of telling them about Jesus. I didn’t even tell myself, “I will never do that” because the concept was so far from something I could ever do that I didn’t give it a second thought. It was in my subconscious to ignore the potential of me becoming a missionary. In this way, I believe the enemy put his foot in the door.
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I became aware of the Holy Spirit’s intense presence in this moment. I cried. I sobbed for 20 minutes. My voice continued shaky while on the phone with John. At first I was worried that he found me a little bit crazy, because I had already known about the Facebook group, I told him I was ready to deposit my money that second, and well, I was crying and interrupting him to reply to every sentence. “I’ll be sending you an email with more information”. “Awesome!” “And I’ll be calling you every month” “Cool! Great!” “We’ll be discussing fundraising” “Yeah that’s amazing”. Just to confirm that I am, in fact, very excited.
To paint a picture of how thrilled I was in this moment, I actually threw up from excitement. You’re probably thinking, “Ew! That’s gross! I don’t need to know that!” Well. It might not be the best idea for you to follow this blog. Because you’ll be hearing every sickness story I experience over those 9 months, and I’m sure they’ll be a lot more disgusting than that.
P.S. Shoutout to my squad members Kate and Grace who are coming to visit me in January, and Alexis and Barbara because when I mentioned the Message version of that verse, I couldn’t help but think of your faint bickering, and it made me miss you even more.
