It’s been almost four years since I went on the World Race. That concept alone is hard for me to grasp. Some days it feels like yesterday, and other days it feels like a far off dream. I turned twenty-one on the race, I’m now turning twenty-five. I was desperately single; I’m now celebrating two years of marriage. An incredible amount of things have happened since I came home, but I always find myself relating so much of my life back to my memories on the field.
I’m actually astounded by how much the world race shaped who I am as a person today. Life is harder because of the World Race. It’s hard because I’m no longer ignorant to the injustices that happen in third world countries. It’s hard because I have experienced community in a way I can no longer find. It’s hard because American church has left me feeling disappointed and lonely. It’s hard because I’m in a constant battle between materialism and wanting to throw everything I own away. The World Race didn’t just change my life, it ruined it.
I’m no longer a people pleaser. I do not stay quiet when injustice is around me. I do not shrink back in the face of oppression. I have no desire for any type of material goods, minus a hammock. My relationships are deep and intimate because I’ve learned the power of friendship and the ways it shares the gospel. The marginalized are noticed sooner by me and their hearts have more value than before.
My marriage thrives because of the lessons I learned on the race. Feedback is constant and communication is open. The love of Christ compels me to love my spouse deeper because I saw his power on the mission field; I cannot deny his love for me.
The World Race allows me to remember the power of Christ, to remember how often he showed up. When I forget or get lost in a culture of unbelief the memories swell to the surface allowing me to live boldly and expect abundance to flow. I know now why Jesus said to remember so often, forgetfulness is part of living.
I am now working at a homeless shelter, living in Kalamazoo, Michigan. I have clean water flowing through all faucets and I take warm showers frequently. I no longer sleep under a mosquito net and I’m not noticed for being white. My laundry isn’t washed in buckets and team time is not required of me. I don’t have to walk three miles to get internet or a coke. I drive wherever I want, when I want. I pay a lot of money to go out to eat and wash my clothes. My life looks very different than it did four years ago, but right now I’m crying, because the world race was more than a mission’s trip. It was more than sightseeing and Instagram posts. The World Race was a tool to teach me how to truly love, to fight, and to be heard. I hope I never stop beginning my stories with “one time on the World Race” because those stories are very important. The World Race ruined me for ordinary, and I will never be the same.
