A recent question on my mind lately is how I will choose to end the World Race? Will it be with a bang or with a whisper?
It's almost the end of Month 9, and in all honesty, I'm tired.
I've picked up the orphan, I've prayed for the widow, I've fed the hungry, I've comforted the sick, I've preached to the desperate. Awesome things, amazing things. Things that I count privilege in being able to partake in. And yet, there's a voice in the back of my head telling me it's all work, it's all labor.
Is loving people work?
Every day I wake up from atop my sleeping pad and I stare into the white mosquito netting that drapes above me and I wonder if I'm loving my teammates well, if I'm loving the people of Uganda well.
Do I love because it's 'The World Race' or because it's my lifestyle? Is feedback for the next two months or is it for always?
Am I so focused on what's next, what's after the Race, that I'm missing what's now? Is there ever a break in desiring holiness and the Kingdom? When do I get to vegetate and watch chick flicks? But then when I do, I realize I just let myself be discipled by some random director's ideas, value system, and who knows what else.
Have I been faithful to the call on my life–to help people come alive? To see women step into their identities as daughters of God, unshakable in their foundation and secure in their final destination. Have I learned how to be great by becoming a servant? Have I learned to submit well, to push up my leaders and the Kingdom, to be an ezer kenegdo?
So many questions, just one answer: Jesus.
And so the Race continues. Not just as a program, but as my life. I am here in Uganda, the future is now, and hope is around the corner.
