I’m struggling to find words that adequately describe training camp, so let me start by introducing my family of 42. Community is what I was most fearful of going into this journey; fearful that I wouldn’t fit in, fearful that I wouldn’t be excited or loud enough, fearful that I wouldn’t be confident enough in my faith. Community is how the Lord first assured me that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. There are six squads launching in September, all very different and all so alive. This squad, ironically called Yellow P, is just as awkward and quirky as the name prefaces it to be. We are all puzzle pieces that somehow fit to create this messy and intricate portrait of a single heart ready to serve.
These ten days were some of the most challenging and liberating I have experienced thus far. I realized I came in with a lot of questions and little answers. How do I see God? Who am I in Christ? What is the weight of my story? What am I afraid of? What chains am I holding onto? Through seeking these answers, I grew overwhelmed, terrified, shaken. To combat these feelings of the enemy, though, I was met with freedom, readiness, vulnerability. I learned what intimacy with the Lord looks like and how to stop and truly listen. I learned the cruciality of family and the unity found in feeling everything together.
This is my immediate family, self proclaimed as The Becomers. We found this name in praying through our team verse, 1 Corinthians 9:22-23. When praying healing over the weak, we will become the weak. In declaring we will do this for the sake of the gospel, we promise not just to the Kingdom, but to each other, that when it gets hard, we will acknowledge this is a mission not meant to do alone. We will lean and rely on every member of this family to carry us through.
Lastly, I leave you with this:
What you see here is Alex and I making peace with the fact that we’ll likely never move again as a result of the infamous fitness hike. What you see here is the exhaustion and hurt of having to complete it a second time. What you don’t see here is Alex and I holding hands as we ran up the last hill. What you don’t see is Tanner carrying Alex’s pack and physically pushing him. What you don’t see is Lis running it a second time when she didn’t have to just to remind us that “we can do hard things.” Most beautifully, what you don’t see here is the entirety of our squad screaming and crying with us every step of the way until we crossed the finish line. That memory will be one I carry with me throughout the race; when ministry is hard and community is harder, I will see 42 family members screaming and crying alongside me saying “you can do hard things”, and I will believe every single one.
