I’m emotionally exhausted. I’ve cried more the last few days than I have the whole race.
We just finished meeting together as a squad and setting up new teams for our last month. We asked the Lord where He wanted each of us. He answered.
I had to reconcile these answers with Him. I had to say goodbye to people I desperately wanted to spend the last month of the race with.
“I love you.”
“I can’t say it back or I’ll start crying… but… I love you.” And the tears came. I let go of our hug and she put on her backpack to go.
“I love you, pal.”
And I couldn’t say anything back, the tears just came. I bent forward and she placed her hand on my back saying it was going to be okay. And even if it wasn’t, I knew that was okay too.
The capacity to love deeply is something I’ve been afraid of most of my life. Because to love is to be vulnerable to pain.
But I came on the race wanting to grow in love. I want to give people a glimpse of the love I’ve received from the Lord. And the Lord gifted me with friendships on this race that let me grow. He has allowed me to accept love and give love more deeply and less fearfully.
And here is the cost of that love.
The pain of separation. It hurts. And it’s just a glimpse of the hurt the Lord feels being separated from us due to our sin.
The goodbyes are done for now. I know more are coming. But I’m at peace for now. A peace that carries hope. I don’t want to be afraid to hope because it’ll cost more hurt. And it all hurts. And I know it will take time for these feelings to ebb.
There’s a phrase, drowning in your tears.
The sense of being overwhelmingly consumed. Sporadic movements. Gasping for air. For relief. Arms moving rapidly. For something to grab onto.
The desperate desire to have someone pull you up. The desperate desire to breath again. The desperate desire for escape, for rescue, for freedom.
But I don’t want the Lord to pull me up. I don’t want to break from the waters. I’m praying my God teaches me to breath underwater. I want true freedom. The type of liberation that doesn’t mean escape because there’s nothing to escape from. It’s the ability to be in anything, anywhere, and never feel trapped, never feel like I’m drowning.
I don’t want to be limited to the shore. Let the waves crash over me. I’m going under, but I’m free. There’s no fear of drowning because I can breath.
I sit here, writing these feelings out. Not sure if it all makes sense. It doesn’t feel as clean and concise as I usually write. I just needed to let these feelings flow out.
But for now, on the chair beside me sits another friend I didn’t have to say goodbye to. I hold on to this more dearly than she probably knows. The Lord has brought comfort in the midst of discomfort. Her bible sits open on her lap, slowly eating her cup of yogurt and oats. She’s wearing an old scrappy shirt ready to get paint on it, ready to reignite old passions, ready to serve.
And I’m ready too. It is the first day of the last month of the World Race. And I’m ready for freedom. I’m ready to breath underwater.
For the last month of the race, we were given the freedom to individually listen to the Lord and follow His lead. The Lord has called me to stay in Jaco, Costa Rica and continue serving the ministry I served for the past month.
I stay with many members of my last team, but they may leave at any point in the month to start a pilgrimage to our final debrief in Panama City.
But I wasn’t called to a pilgrimage. I was called to stay at Ocean’s Edge for the the full month. It started as a surf camp for kids, an an avenue to share the Gospel. It has grown into so much more. This includes mural painting, ocean and park clean ups, leading Sunday school, homeless feedings. I specifically feel led to help with their prayer initiative and marketing campaign for the city, jacobeachinfo.com.
I’m also trying to get someone to teach me how to make a good cup of coffee. Maybe if I get experience in Costa Rica, someone will hire me as a barista when I get back to the states.
Please find more info on Ocean’s Edge at oceansedge-lifestyle.com
