The World Race has a way of bringing up things in your life
you don’t otherwise talk about. It can
be little things like your favorite food or the favorite article of clothing
you left behind or it can be big things like the loss of a friend or in my case
in South Africa, my racial background.
Growing up as a biracial child in the United States there
were many times that I felt confusion or tension because I didnt fit nicely
into a box of either Black or White. I
was both but not many people knew what to do with both. As a result of not fitting and no natural
community, I found I was often striving to prove myself to others whether it
was in school, or sports, or even in friendships. Even though no one ever said anything
directly, I felt a need to make sure I was a valued member of whatever
community I was a part of because none of my peers looked like I did. I didnt automatically belong with any
group. Its hard to explain but I
recognize the feeling each time it creeps up.
***
When my team and another team arrived in Cape Town, our
ministry host provided and orientation and a chance to visit the two different
ministry sites. One team would work at
each for the month. While we were
visiting Camp Joy, a faith based rehabilitation center for drug addicts and
former gang members, we had a time of sharing stories.
We alternated. One person
from Camp Joy would share about how he or she met the Lord and came to Camp Joy
and then a World Racer would share how he or she met the Lord and came on the
Race. Towards the end of the sharing there
was an awkward silence. The leader looked
directly at me said, Since you look like us, wed like to hear your
story.
I can honestly say those words had never been spoken to me
before.
Feeling slightly stunned, I stood up in front of a room of
virtual strangers and shared briefly about my life. About how growing up it was hard to find a
place to fit in. And about the times in
my life when I have been so consumed with areas other than God that I put Him
on a shelf. I noted that work and
approval consumed me and drugs consumed them but the results were all the
samewe each had idols that stole our attention and distorted the way we viewed
God and the world.
And then I shared about Jesus and the community of believers
I lived with back home as well as the people Im traveling with nowit is there
that I seek to find my place. It is in
the body of Christ that I have felt most at home.
When I finished my story, it all felt so frivolous compared
to the redemption stories many of the men and women shared. I began to feel as if I didnt belong. That old familiar feeling was creeping back
into my life, making me feel small and that any connections I drew between my
story and the others shared made light of their victories. Yet in the middle of second-guessing myself,
a man approached me.
He had shared earlier about how had he lost everything to his
addiction. Then as his life was
crumbling around him, he found Camp Joy and now Jesus is changing his
life. I thought maybe he wanted to chat
about life in America or some other small talk but instead he took my hand and
said, Welcome homeyou belong here.
I’ve been told this type of thing many times but this was
different. He really meant it and I really felt it.
My insecurities melted away if even for just a moment. With that simple statement, a handshake and
kind eyes, I felt welcomed. I felt at
home.
God has given me a special gift in South Africa. Hes given me a place where amidst all the
difference I experience in my life, I feel so incredibly at home. A place where I feel more like myself than I
have in a long time.
