The majority of World Racers believe a lie. Or maybe it’s a fear. As many of us have had conversations about going home, I’ve heard too many of us say this, “I’m scared that I haven’t changed at all… I’m scared I’m going home the same person as I came.
I’ll be honest with you, I sometimes believe this lie as well.
But let’s be frank. How the heck can one travel the world to 11 different countries, living in each country for one month… and come back the same?
You can’t.
It’s as simple as that.
No one, in his or her right mind can see this much life and death in one long swoop and be the same person he or she was [even] yesterday.
I’ve changed. The Lord has changed me. He’s freakin’ rocked my world.
Today, I met a group of Americans – one of them having never been out of the States. This “new” short-term missionary, in particular, drew my attention. She was intrigued. She was snapping pictures all over the place while asking us a million questions about our bucket showers, tents, the “kitchen” (aka a fire pit), and so on.
I laughed as I answered some of these questions. After all, this has become my normal.
My NEW normal.
That’s it. That’s exactly it. My new “normal” looks nothing like the “normal” from the States.
God, in His miraculous humor, used this sweet, curious, American to show me… that in fact… I’ve actually changed a lot.
Something that was abnormal or intriguing 9 months ago has become apart of my every day life. Some of these new “normalities” (is that a word?) are simply the way I live life. But some are the deep workings of the Spirit, calling me to something greater than myself. Something, that I needed to come overseas to learn so that it could be threaded into my spiritual DNA.
So… here’s a glimpse of my “new” normal.
- Sleeping in my tent or the floor, on a tiny sleeping mat and an airplane pillow for my head.
- Heating up water over the fire for a bucket shower. Oh, and that only happens about once a week.
- Eating ugali or poscho or pop on a regular basis (cornmeal and water mixed together… Kenya, Uganda and Swazi all have different names for this African “delicacy”). YUM!
- Slaughtering chickens, a duck and a pig all in the same week for our meals.
- Packing up and moving every few weeks to live in a different country.
- Not shaving…
- Dodging monkeys on the way to work.
- Walking at least 30 minutes to church, catch a bus or go to the store.
- Spending a few hours in a van or bus (probably sitting on the floor of the vehicle) just to get somewhere for a few hours.
- Having children all over the world cling to me.
- Walking barefoot (sorry Mom).
- Waking up early in the morning to have a date with Jesus. I’ve never been so desperate for Him to fill me up with His love.
- Turning to prayer for every need. Literally… every need.
- Waking up every morning wondering if we finally had killed that disgusting rat.
- Being willing to preach or give a “word” with no preparation time.
- Sharing my testimony with a random stranger.
- Driving on the “wrong” (it’s really just the left) side of the road. This seriously has become too normal. I watch movies and think the right side is now wrong.
- No 3G.
- WiFi is not a necessity.
- Instant coffee. Oh… that instant coffee. How I don’t love it.
- Constantly praying for protection. I’ve never prayed for personal safety so much in my life.
- Hand washing my clothes. It doesn’t even phase me anymore.
- A brokenness for the world.
- A yearning to be God’s hands and feet in a world that needs restoration.
- A greater understanding of how big God is and how much He loves His people.
- A greater urgency to love like Jesus loves.
And there’s so much more…
My new normal.
I don’t think I’m going to fit in when I get home… and that is okay. I don’t want to fit in.
My new fear is not that I haven’t changed, but that I will return home and forget. That I will once again become so consumed with the comforts of the States that I will forget my friend Jacky living under the bridge in Tondo whose son is dying if he doesn’t receive an emergency surgery.
I’m scared I will forget of my little buddy in 42 Village in Cambodia that goes to bed hungry at night and is beaten by his parents.
I plead with the Lord that He would constantly remind me of my friends in these countries around the world. The ones that have changed my life probably more than I have changed theirs.
I like to live in poverty. I like to be uncomfortable. Because as much as I yearn for that comfort, warmth and feeling of safety; it’s in the poverty and brokenness that I’m desperate to see God’s come through. It’s in my weakness that I see God move. It’s in the brokenness that I see His redemption. I’m less blinded and less distracted in these places.
I want to continually live in this desperation. And I don’t want to forget what this desperation feels like.
So, I pray that my “new” normal is a testimony to God and His work. And that as I go home I would proclaim His work that I’ve seen firsthand throughout the world. I pray that it would bring others to their knees in desperation just as it has for me. And I pray, that this desperation I feel would not cease. Whether in Swaziland, Bozeman, Bend or hopefully, someday, Manila – I pray that I would live in a constant desperation for Jesus Christ and His Gospel.
Is not He your Father who has bought you?
He has made you and established you.
Deuteronomy 32:6b
