“Jesus was walking by the sea of Galilee. He saw two brothers. They were Simon (who is called Peter) and Andrew, his brother. They were putting a net into the sea for they were fishermen. Jesus said to them, ‘Follow Me. I will make you fishers of men!’ At once they left their nets and followed Him”
–Mark 4:18-22
“When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ He said to him, ‘Feed my lambs.’ He said to him a second time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?’ He said to him, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ He said to him, ‘Tend my sheep.’ He said to him a third time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?’ Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ and he said to him, ‘Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my sheep.’”
–John 21:15-17
Simon Peter and his brother Andrew were the first of the twelve disciples whom Jesus called to follow him on a journey that would last three years until Jesus’ death on the cross and continue as these men sought to spread the good news of a man who preformed miracles before them and then gave them the power to do the same. The men Jesus called, the followers he gained along the way, and people whom he healed were all outsiders and outcasts. They were the bottom of the totem pole, and by bottom, I mean the part that is buried beneath the dirt. It was the scholars, rich men, and healthy people that had a problem with this crazy dude who came to Earth claiming to be the son of God and having the power to forgive sins, but like he said in Mark 2:17, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but the sinners.” In short Jesus came to flip the totem pole upside down, the ones perched at the top usually had no need to love him back.
It’s obvious that I too felt a calling much like Peter did when I decided to join the World Race because, well, I’m here now, but I’m not sure if I ever shared just exactly how that went down. It’s a story that I still don’t quite understand, but am happy to watch unfold in ignorant bliss. The summer going into my senior year of high school, I was flying through college applications one after another, they were honestly quite fun for me and I was excited about the prospect of being a college woman. I’d spent the first half of my summer serving on Work Crew at the summer camp I’ve attended my whole life with 17 other hard working and fun loving girls, one of which was my best friend Grace. As we sat on the porch one night after a long day of scrubbing pots filled with burned queso and mopping the ranch house, she sat back and told me about her plans for after high school. She’d found this program called the World Race: Gap Year, a nine month mission trip on which you would travel the world preaching the Word and spreading the Gospel. I agreed that it seemed right up her alley, but never in a million years would Emma Moody, college-girly-to-be, consider taking a gap year. School had kicked my butt junior year and I knew senior year would be just as ugly, the thought of decorating my dorm room was the only thing pushing me to fight through. After I returned home to Tampa, FL, and while I was filling out college applications, an email notification buzzed on my phone. Wishful thinking had me hoping it was a college acceptance letter, I’d sent in my first application only hours beforehand, but no, it was an email from the World Race. They were advertising their August 2016 gap year routes. I don’t know if it was exhaustion, the Holy Spirit, or the candle I was burning that led me to click the link, but I did.
I watched a video first, it was an inspirational one about walking through doors and such, but still, if that door wasn’t into a college classroom, I wasn’t interested. I continued exploring the website regardless. August 2016: route 1 promised adventures through the Balkan peninsula in southeast Europe, the Philippines, and South Africa. I read the short information blurbs on each place and then let my mouse hover over the APPLY NOW button at the bottom. I still wasn’t interested, I really wasn’t, but I clicked anyways. By the wee hours of the morning I’d filled out yet another application, this time for a nine-month mission trip, not a four-year college education. I paid the $40 application fee, went to bed and forgot about it. Days later I received a call from a nice lady in the Adventures in Missions offices in Georgia asking if I was available for an interview, I remember very little from our conversation except her saying at the end, “Okay Emma, you are all set for the World Race: Gap Year route 1. All we need from you is a $150 deposit and you can start fundraising.” I thanked her and hung up, then I got on my computer and paid the deposit with my own money. I no longer thought I was going to college next year, the Holy Spirit had veered me off the road all my other classmates were traveling and told me, “No Emma, we’re going to do this first.” All I had to do now was tell my parents…
Surprise! They said yes! And not only did they say yes, they supported me through the long and challenging process of fundraising, fought for me when people asked, “but why?” and continue to comfort me now, five months into my race. Much like Peter, I stepped off the boat I was on and made the decision to take this year to spread the Gospel and grow in my knowledge of the Word. God has been doing a lot of rearranging in my heart making room for growth and learning to let go of the worldly desires I once held close, but it hasn’t come without discomforts. It’s Christmas day here and besides it being hot and sticky with no AC in sight, Santa brought me a nasty staph infection and a super typhoon set to hit sometime in the next 24 hours. For the first time since being on the Race I’ve longed for home, past the cravings for Chipotle and outfit options, I want my mom to hold me and not on her phone through FaceTime.
The disciples left with Jesus on a three-year journey as they learned and listened to the world shattering teachings of Christ and looked on when the same man that said he was the Son of God, was defeated on the cross. None of them seem too convinced the time Jesus claimed he had to die, but would rise again, so they were all foreseeably surprised when Jesus came knocking three days later. In one of these instances, the disciples were on a boat, you guessed it fishing, when Jesus appeared to them on the shore. They’d caught no fish that day, but when Jesus told them to cast the net on the other side, they hauled in a load that threatened to drag to boat under. Ecstatic, Peter jumped into the sea, knowing his Lord was only a short swim away. When we climbed out of the water, Jesus had prepared for them a breakfast of grilled fish, the other disciples gathered around, and when they’d eaten their fill Jesus asked Peter, “Do you love me more than these?”
I’d read this story plenty of times before coming on the Race, but always had two questions that remained unanswered until now. Why would Jesus ask Peter that? And more than what? More than the other disciples? That seems a little awkward to ask in front of the other guys. But as I read it again on the porch of the Lighthouse, two things occurred to me. What if Jesus wasn’t asking Peter if he loved him more than the other disciples, but more than the fish that he was out catching. And what if he asked him three times because despite the miracles Jesus had preformed in front of the disciples, as soon as it seemed as if Jesus was gone for good, they went right back to where they started, to fishing. I wondered if the same would happen with me. I’ve been walking closely with Christ these five months I’ve been on the Race and I will until the end, but when it’s over, when I get to go home to my bed and my family and the possibility of returning to old habits, will I? I mean of course I’ll happily jump into my bed and invite my mom to come scratch my back, but will she be cuddling the same Emma that left nine months before? I hope not.
God loved me before I said yes to follow him, and he’ll love me despite who I am after the Race, but he didn’t invite me on this journey so I could feign growth. He invited me so that I’d actually grow. Peter still loved Jesus when he found them fishing again, but no doubt it stung a little when he saw the men whom he loved and taught for so long had returned to old habits. I don’t want that. I will go to college next year (Go ‘Noles!), but hopefully with different intentions than I had at the beginning of my senior year. I no longer think I need a hunky college boyfriend or Greek letters monogrammed onto every article of clothing I own, nor am I interested in the college degree that will get me the best job and make the most money. Not that boyfriends aren’t great (?) and sororities definitely aren’t what they are in the movies, but my desires have changed. I’m ready to walk into school next year and share the story of why I’ll be a freshman turning 20 instead of 19, I want the path I pursue to be one that glorifies God and not my pocket, most of all I want people to wonder why I don’t think our football team isn’t the center of the universe.
Although it took the Holy Spirit basically filling out the World Race application for me and having to sit me down like a child who won’t listen so he could tell me that he had different plans, I’m glad I did stop entertaining my college wishes long enough to listen. I’ve learned things while on the Race that can’t be taught in a classroom, as far as I know there are no college classes on how to love like Jesus. I’m not saying it takes nine months of international travel and sharing the Gospel with strangers that don’t always speak your language to make Him happy, but it does take the courage to say yes to getting out of the boat you’re in now and equally as much courage to not climb right back into it when it seems He’s left you. He hasn’t, and He’ll wonder what you’re doing and have to ask you the painful question of “Do you really love me more than these” if you do. That’s what I’m eager to avoid when I return, I want Him instead to say, “Look, this is my daughter who loves me. Watch what she does and listen to what she says, she’s living a life loving me.”
