Dedicated to Haleigh Moore. Thank you for exemplifying how to pray like a warrior, endure like a soldier, be diligent like a farmer, hope through heartbreak, love through hurt, trust through confusion, shine like the sun and fight like a champ.
May your passion for Jesus always be used to infuse everyone you come into contact with.
Hey y’all!
On the world race it is EASY to get worn out. I write this from a roof top in India as a world racer who is worn out.
Even if you do all the right things at the right times, even if you do them with the purest heart and intentions. Even if you genuinely are falling more in love with Jesus everyday. When you take days off, when you lean on God to restore you.
It’s a grind out here on the world race.
We still get burnt out. Tired. Weary. Drained. Exhausted. Even Numb.
It happens to nearly every racer, sometimes multiple times, different times, different months, different places.
When your mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually tired it’s easy to forget some things.
Like why you came on the race, who your serving, how to love well, what your passionate about and sometimes even remembering what country you’re in or why it matters what country you’re in.
I was sitting in an Indian village church this morning, knowing I’ve been tired lately, knowing my whole team has been tired lately. I was trying to love or even like church, but couldn’t get past the idea that sitting in American church where I didn’t have to be on guard to present a song, testimony or sermon on demand might be nice. I kept thinking “Why am I not excited about this? Why do I at the moment not care if this was India, Romania, Australia or Brazil? It all feels almost numb.” I’ve had SO many new experiences and met and prayed with so many people, sat in so many new churches in many different languages that this particular Sunday did not stand out as unique or special. This of course isn’t true, because it was the first time I had ever been in a village Indian church. Plus, Jesus thinks they’re special.
I just kept asking God why. Why am I here, why India, why world race, why am a seemingly not passionate about it?
Remind me Jesus.
He did.
I drifted away down memory lane. I recalled my first ever missions trip in 4th grade with my mom and home church. We went to Tijuana, Mexico to build 16×16 foot shack houses for people. I remember how much I LOVED it. Building was so fun, drinking water out of purified bottles was fun, being served authentic food repeatedly by overly grateful faces was awesome, playing games and talking because we didn’t have TV was fun, reading my bible was alive and a blast, heck, the time change was even fun. I came back thinking I definitely want to do that again!!
So I did, a senior class missions trip to Dominican Republic; dental/medical trip to Palomas, Mexico; four trips to Panama City beach, Florida for spring break ministry. College evangelism for a summer in Zambia, Africa. Even home ministry stuff like leading youth groups, college bible studies and being a high school summer camp counselor.
I loved it and God and I rocked them all.
I kept going through the trips, the memories were still clear in my head. Playing cards with my HS class in a DR airport (because airports are an adventure not a drag), cleaning out a lady’s infected leg sore (thinking the opposite of what most of you are – I wanna do this medical stuff forever), carrying my first bucket of cement up a rickety ladder, doing my first day of seemingly senseless – not thought out – not western – backwards work, realizing that that work day still showed Jesus to people, laughing lots, becoming addicted to the Dominican’s ivory smiles, worshipping without a band, swimming in the ocean – on a missions trip!, realizing my feet were going new places and bringing Jesus with them.
Signing up for Africa specifically because the leader of my trip had dreadlocks, learning all about how I was dating girls way wrong, loving every second of Africa – even the bland food – cold showers – and being sick lots, listening to songs about Africa – in Africa with Africans, chilling at the market with my rasta brothers, making tons of African friends/disciples, playing four years of varsity soccer but still sucking compared to kids who don’t have shoes, playing soccer with rolled up Walmart bags, running hundreds of tests for aids and malaria patients, watching people file in for the doctor with disformities – tumors – lice – and skin peeling off of them, giving those people care with a smile on my face but tears in my eyes, laughing more, playing with a billion kids – all without loving or living parents, standing on top of an off limits part of Victoria Falls thinking not only was this by far the coolest most amazing thing I’ve ever done – but I’m going to come back and die here, being back home in my first church service – ugly crying hysterically for 20 minutes straight because I was so in love with Jesus and Africa and I missed them so much.
I remember domestic missions, learning that I really did love Americans – ALOT, being able to actually do missions ON THE BEAUTIFUL BEACH!, yelling Go Green and who ever responded Go White – in Florida – my buddies and I went and witnessed to, winning a push-up contest that I didn’t realize was to judge a lap-dance competition, telling the spring breakers about Jesus and what we as campus crusade were doing on the beach through that and then bringing up the runner up to judge booties (he was a Michigan fan, I won’t lie that was nearly my entire motivation to win at the end. Never lose to Michigan), getting burnt and playing endless games of football on the beach with friends and party animals, making Beer Pong sand castles then witnessing to people as we played, explaining to drunk kids that Jesus was WAY better than drinking – weed – and sex, them believing me :), my roommates and my awesome Brother Luke coming with me, knocking on endless doors at Michigan State because more Spartans HAD to hear about the real Jesus, seeing many brothers lives change before my eyes, telling my DAD testimony In front of 500 Spartans , blobbing kids tirelessly at camp, leading studies daily there – watching kids transform as they discovered the real life giving Jesus, finally – keeping in touch with all my brothers from all areas in the states.
All these things and more God poured through my mind. All these things I was and am PASSIONATE about. Sometimes I just need a loving reminder. I signed up for world race because I knew I wanted to keep going with missions, I knew if I stopped taking the opportunities that had been presented, one day I’d be living my life way differently than I or Jesus wanted. World race just seemed up my ally, and route 3 sounded good to God and I.
I am not going to write more paragraphs about the experiences I’ve had thus far in the race, you can read my previous blogs for that. Plus, it would take too long to write. Know they are just as full and special.
~~~
As I was thinking, an Indian boy came up and nuzzled his way into a hug, he smiled huge at me then I just stood there holding him, interlocked hands as I played drums on his chest. We worshiped, and I knew that THIS is why I am here. THIS is what I’m passionate about, spreading Jesus to people, all people, all ways, all times, even when I don’t want to or forget that I am.
Thank you Jesus for the reminder :).
My friend Haleigh unfortunately had to leave the race early for medical problems. But the one thing she said from NY with urgency and sadness in her voice, the one thing that is echoed by every alumni world racer, “DO NOT TAKE A SINGLE DAY FOR GRANTED. EVER. Every day is such a gift.” This sparked in my brain a few days ago, and hasn’t left since. So my team and I are latching onto that. Tired, exhausted, whatever. We’re doing this not just to avoid regrets, but to set the tone for the rest of our lives. Jesus is alive and passionate, my team and I are STILL going to live like it.
“Today is a day The Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.” – Psalm 118:24
Remember what you are passionate about.
Love,
Jacob
