It’s crazy how surreal life can be sometimes. Last week was one of those times. I remember applying to The World Race last November and watching the videos that tease about the adventures and mysteries that happen at Training Camp weeks before then. And then somehow I found myself living in those videos just a few days ago.
Before I go further, future racers stop reading. I know, I know. I stalked the blogs too, and honesty I wish I hadn’t. I loved the surprises I didn’t ever hear rumors about more than trying to figured out when the legends I built up in my head were going to take place. They say not to have expectations and that might be the best advice I heard all week.
So what is training camp you may ask? Well it’s basically an intense week of preparation for The World Race. We had a semester of seminary school squeezed into three days. We had insane worship session, and saw God move in powerful ways through us and our squad mates. We ate weird food and slept in even weirder situations all to prepare us for the next 11 months.
One thing that was different about my training camp experience was that I got to celebrate my 22nd birthday there. Honestly, going into it you could say I was less than thrilled about it. Spending my birthday with strangers sounded awkward. But sometime during the two bucket showers I took all week, the packing and repacking of all of my gear, bug bites galore, hours of dancing, bizarre sleeping arrangements, and stargazing moments, those strangers became family. And it seemed so natural to celebrate with my new family.
So while yes, I had an absolutely amazing time this week, it was also one of the hardest weeks of my life. One of the goals of camp is to make you dependent on your squad, team, and Savior. That’s the thing they don’t tell you, you are going to become very aware of your brokenness at camp. To do this, the trainers make it insanely hard. Harder than I could have imagined. It was physically hard, emotionally hard, and spiritually hard. Training camp gave me a glimpse of how hard the race is going to be. And that was a terrifying moment. Camp was only a week long, how the heck am I suppose to do this for 11 months? What have I gotten myself into?
That thought first appeared when we were 20 minutes away from camp. But it lasted for a couple of days. During those moments I realized how much I need The Lord. And isn’t that the point of brokenness to make you dependent on God?
I can’t muster up courage from the depths of my self. I can’t convince myself to be brave in the midst of the unknown. I can’t force myself to relax any more than I can sleep on a school bus.
But there’s something beautiful about brokenness. And that beauty is that you find God in your brokenness.
If I wasn’t ever scared, I wouldn’t get to experience the power of perfect love that casts out my fear. If I wasn’t lonely, I wouldn’t experience Jesus as my friend who’s closer than a brother. If I wasn’t grieving, I wouldn’t be able to experience the comfort that comes from the presence of my Lord. If I wasn’t starting a crazy adventure, I wouldn’t get to experience God as my source of bravery.
That’s the biggest secret about training camp. You’re going to be broken. No doubt about that. But that’s best part about training camp too; it was an environment that created brokenness. And once my self was painfully stripped away, there was more room to experience the goodness and greatness of my God.
The challenge now becomes to remain broken during the next five weeks in the midst of comfort. And then the challenge will be to still rejoice in the 11 months of difficulty and brokenness. I know being broken isn’t easy. It’s messy and unattractive, but this week a realized it’s also filled with glorious grace. It’s while I’m broken that I remember where my hope is found.
