Something I experience on the World Race are Debriefs with my entire Squad- that is the group of thirty-five World Racers who travel to the same countries as me. Debriefs happen four times throughout the Race, and after Month One in Mozambique we Debriefed in Malawi at Monkey Bay- located right on Lake Malawi.
It’s been almost three weeks since Debrief, but this is a blog I still wanted to share.
Debrief is a time for us to decompress, process, learn, and play. There are coaches and mentors who fly out to our Debriefs to meet one-on-one with us, teach sessions, and invest in our experience.
I loved the space to adventure. While at Debrief I had the opportunity to kayak around an island with some of my friends, snorkel with my Squad with the tropical fish in the fresh water lake, and stargaze under the most stunning stars I have ever seen in my life.
Although I could share funny stories from one of these adventures or a cool conversation with my mentor, I want to share how the Lord spoke to me at Debrief. How in a place of pain and brokenness He reached down in an incredible way to communicate His love.
I arrived at Debrief exhausted. We had two long, hard travel days to get our whole group from Mozambique to Malawi. On the World Race, unless there is an ocean separating you between your next country, you take a bus. Even if that means being on that bus for over 48 hours with less seats than people.
After getting some sleep and food in my body I thought, ‘Okay, I am ready to start Debrief.’
As I began to process and look back on my month, I found myself feeling so broken and pained. Mozambique was a hard month for me for a lot of reasons, but one piece that made it so hard was the way I chose to cope with my Mom’s brain cancer diagnosis.
I decided that if I could just stay focused and present in whatever I was doing, I could keep it together. I could learn how ignore the pain and, quite honestly the anger, if I let my brain and my heart stay with what was happening around me in Mozambique.
I was wrong.
I found myself walking down the beach on Lake Malawi lamenting to the Lord.
Why did I not see you in the ways earth-shattering ways I was expecting this month?
Why is it still so hard?
Where are you in my pain? Because I feel so alone.
Why now God, when I am on the Race?
Why my Mom?
In that moment of rawness and honesty with the Lord, I asked for Him to encourage and show up in this place with me. I needed Jesus to speak against these lies. I needed to invite Him to the table with me and process- because I was living in a lie of, ‘No everybody, I am good.’
Out of nowhere I look up and a little girl from Malawi, maybe five years old, was walking towards me. With no hesitation she walks straight up to me and grabs my hand. She couldn’t speak any English, but just stood there and held my hand, staring at me with eyes that were unmistakably filled with love.
Suddenly, two other Malawian children were sitting next to me, putting their hands on my arm, talking to me in Chichewa, touching my hair. More kids came over who were swimming and started splashing me. Before I knew what was happening, I was surrounded by fifteen Malawian children sitting, playing, holding my hand, asking my name, and telling me I was beautiful.
The whole time the girl who initially walked up to me never let go of my hand, never took her eyes off of me.
It wasn’t until later when I shared what happened with my teammate and he said, ‘Emily, that was from the Lord.’
The Lord used this girl to answer my prayer and communicate His love to me. He sees me in my pain and will not leave me alone in it. He looks at me in compassion. He is going to stand there the whole time, this whole journey, and never let go of my hand.
He sees me and I am not too much.
Also, all the children that sat with me as I was broken and crying, surrounded me with joy, comfort, and company- the Lord had something to tell me there as well. I struggled the whole first month to let my team into my pain and be vulnerable about how hard this still is every day. The Lord needed to tell me to let my community in because I can’t stand in this alone.
My team will sit with me when I am mourning and surround me with joy, comfort, and love. They won’t leave me.
They see me and I am not too much.
In that moment the Lord taught me something- He showed me how directly, powerfully, and beautifully He answers prayer.
I can look back on this memory now and try to doubt that it was an answer to prayer, and say that Malawian people are just friendly. It’s the warm heart of Africa, of course a bunch of random kids walked up to me on a beach and surrounded me.
But why would I limit who God is and how He loves His children?
Too often we limit God and who He is and how He responds to us. I don’t want to live in a world anymore where I limit what God can and can’t do. I want to believe every day in a God who is so deep we don’t ever reach the ceiling to knowing Him and His love more. I want to believe every day in a God who delights in meeting us in our brokenness and sitting with us, simply holding our hand: in a God who surprises you in the way He answers you and communicates to you.
I know the road ahead won’t be easy. I know there are still going to be days filled with unmistakable pain, but you know what else I know? I know that God is still good and never leaves us alone. I know that He is greater and doing more than I could ever expect or see through this journey I am called to.
I have been learning a lot in relationship to this through reading the book of Daniel- specifically, when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were sent to be executed in a blazing furnace for not worshiping the statue King Nebuchadnezzar, ordered to by law. My favorite part is the way they respond,
“If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” (Daniel 3:17-18)
They trusted that God was able to save them from the fire, but more than that, even if it was the Lord’s will for them to die in the furnace they would still trust Him. They still would not worship the golden image.
I read that and I hear, ‘And even still, God is good.’
When I stand before the fire, even when that fire is walking with my Mom through her cancer, I want my response to be:
‘And even still, God is good.’
(Pictured- sunset at Monkey Bay at Debrief)
