The twilight hours of the World Race are fast approaching.
Our plane coasted through the sky, and it was almost as if I could feel the glow of the setting sun as our journey was quickly approaching its final destination. A warmth of knowing that my ship has sailed long and far, and home is now on the horizon. A peace knowing that the final leg of the journey would hold all of the sweetness and treasures of a battle passionately fought.
“Can you believe we only have three countries left?!” “Only 80 days left!” “I can’t believe we go home in less than 3 months!” Phrases as such are tossed around casually amongst the squad now as if they were relevant to any conversation. Thoughts about “what’s next” are becoming action; flights home are being booked and discussions about transitioning are in effect. The gaze is ahead, sometimes far ahead, with only thoughts of the past lingering in the peripherals.
The end is coming soon. But like all good stories, the final chapter doesn’t come without a story of its own.
Welcome to Chapter Three.
Or, “The One Where Jonathan Lives in East Africa”.
I was lucky to snag a window seat on our flight here. As we descended, I felt an overwhelming peace as I watched the lush green hills of East Africa come into focus. For miles, nothing but glorious natural beauty. The type of view that ushered fresh blue air into my tired lungs. I could feel my muscles relax, my heart slow, and my mind still. “There’s something about this place”, I thought. I could sense the Holy Spirit nodding.
Our plane landed, and my squad stepped into the cool afternoon air, a fresh breeze there to welcome us. Immediately, I could see my squadmates around me come to life. There was a stillness within us, a sense of awe as the scope of what we were experiencing was beginning to take shape; a deep release as if our heavy bags weren’t as heavy as they once were.
Our squad got on our bus, enroute to Kigale, Rwanda. We sat on that bus with the windows down, feeling the cool breeze blow through our hair and watching the warm afternoon sun light the passing hillsides with a romantic glow. Jet lagged and sleep deprived, it was almost like living in a dream. Children came running out of their homes, awestruck and giddy to see a bus full of m’zungus. I will admit, we might have been even more so giddy to see them.
We arrived in Kigale after a long night of traveling, landing soundly at a beautifully homey hostel in a quiet little neighborhood. We awoke the next morning to a gorgeous view of the city spread out across the hills. Clad with a cup of coffee, a Bible, and a crisp morning chill, I sat on the terrace and just breathed. “There’s something about Africa. There’s something about this final chapter.”
For many of us, Africa is a promised land. Some have dreamed of coming to Africa their whole lives. Others spent a short time in the red dirt and couldn’t seem to leave it behind. But for all of us, Africa is the promise of endurance, the hope at the end of our four rigorous months in Southeast Asia. The promise of revival, that the hope that died out in the darker months would have fresh new life in this glorious green continent.
Asia was rough on the squad as a whole. Spiritual darkness, intense heat, sickness, mid-Race depression, homesickness, tricky language and cultural barriers, disagreements with leadership and team members, and plenty of ground for the enemy to take some jabs. There were many days when I found it hard to keep my perspective on serving Christ while sweating through my clothes, or working through team issues, or daydreaming about home. I had grown so weary, I began to feel like I was okay with letting the Race be something that would just happen to me, instead of being something I took ownership of. Our last debrief in Bangkok, Thailand, at the end of Month Six, was almost depressing. There was an air of frustration and fatigue amongst the squad, and try as our leaders did to inspire us to keep pressing on, we left that debrief with forced smiles and tired souls. I will admit, I wondered after that debrief if this was it for us. If maybe we were the squad that crumbled under adversity, the one that when put to the test proved to be made of less than they said they were. The squad that maybe didn’t actually come on the Race for Jesus, and maybe didn’t want to keep going.
But this debrief was different. Life began again. Joy came back. Hope was instilled.
Our tired bodies came to life in the cool African air. Our tired hearts found joy in the smiles of the beautiful local people. Our tired souls found rest in the peaceful serenity of Rwanda’s quiet hillside.
And suddenly, Jesus became the focus once again.
At this debrief, worship with the squad felt like true worship instead of an activity to inspire positivity. Our sessions focused more on finding Christ and working as a team on mission, instead of focusing on the petty issues we had with one another. I noticed a change in almost everyone there. And even though many of the frustrations and dysfunctions of Race life hadn’t changed, there was a willingness to press through that the entirety of the squad seemed to own.
We finished our four days of Debrief in Rwanda in high spirits. New teams were assigned (mine stayed intact as an all-male team), ministries assignments were given, and without delay we all headed out of the city into our ministries for the month. The night before, I had spent with the Lord vision-casting for the month, something I hadn’t done since my first couple of months in Latin America, and felt the Lord calling me into deeper intimacy with Him. For the first time in many months, I felt strong enough again to say “yes” to God, something I wrestled against through my rough patches in Asia. I had vision, I had purpose, I had joy, I had peace, I had energy, I had optimism, and I had the end in sight. Africa was going to be the best three months of my life.
Well, I guess I forgot something. The end of the Race might still be in sight, but there’s still three more months left. And three months is a much longer time than I was thinking.
As I quickly discovered, my last three months in Africa won’t be quite as easy as I initially thought they would be. Our living situation this month calls for cold bucket showers, using an outdoor “squatty-potty”, and sharing three double mattresses across us six guys (my room being particularly small, with less than a foot between the mattress and the wall). Cell service and wifi are extremely limited, which is hard to adjust to as I’ve had ample ways to stay connected to life back home the last 8 months. My sandals were stolen off the front porch on our first night at our ministry site – an immediate discouragement, one that had quickly caused me to be fearful for my safety, frustrated with my circumstances, and distrustful of the people around me. Ministry is a bit fluid, without much of a structure, which sometimes gives me my Type-A tendencies a rattle. Electricity is limited but dirt is plentiful. Language barriers make communication hard and relationship building challenging. Malaria meds have obnoxious side-effects. Everywhere you go, there’s a horde of locals staring at you. When I arrived at our ministry site and started to realize what I was in for, I began to wonder if the revival I had experienced my first couple of days in Kigale was really authentic, or just a product of the “honeymoon phase”.
Even in this new season, I still struggle with missing home. The cool air reminds me of early fall on the East Coast, and my mind wanders to Fall and Thanksgiving and holiday gatherings with family. Taking walks around the town reminds me of the early evening walks I loved to take with my family around my neighborhood in Georgia. Conversation frequently drifts to American foods missed between the guys of my team. I’m beginning to accept that these desires for home aren’t just a struggle for the “Month 6-8 Slump”, but will be a reality for the next three months.
I get now why they call this thing a “Race”. As much as it’s about serving Jesus and loving people, it’s also a test of endurance. Sure, debrief gave me a second wind, but the reality is that I’m in Month 9, and my ragged body is still weary from running this arduous race for 8 months. And as much as I’m ready to look back and process all I’ve gone through, I still have a lot more running forward to do. We haven’t reached the home stretch quite yet; there’s still a couple more miles to go.
With this in mind, there’s a lot of reasons to want to just “get through” these last three months. Many of the struggles I thought I left in Asia have begun to return, and desires to “check-out” pop up frequently. But in the midst of the wrestle with my flesh, I’m finding confidence in this new season that there is hope worth fighting for. That even though there may be challenges, Jesus is still calling me to live this life every day for His glory. And if that reason is enough to outweigh the challenges, then maybe this Race is still worth running.
So, what is in front of me?
This month, my team is living with a pastor and his family in the small town of Kabuga. We are serving at his church, a tiny little building just down the road, preaching to the congregation and teaching English to the locals at night. We plan to spend some mornings doing door to door evangelism in the town with the pastor, and, if money permits, we hope to do some construction projects in the church and at the pastor’s home. So far, we have had the opportunity to spend time with the pastor’s family, and have begun to build relationships with some of the locals that we hope will lead to greater opportunities for evangelism later in the month.
Amidst my struggles, there are incredible joys here that far surpass all of these things. Beautiful scenery all around us. Adorable children everywhere. Women wearing vibrant colors. Charming smiles. Pleasant weather all day and night. Savory food. Warm-hearted people. Passionate prayers. Breathtaking worship. This past week, I’ve been continually blown away by the radiant life of Africa.
There’s something about Africa, I’m telling you. And there’s something about this final chapter of the World Race.
I’ve come to recognize that when it comes to trilogies, the last film in the series is often my favorite. Typically, it’s the one where everything from the last two movies comes to ahead, and after the hero rises from darkness and struggles, he takes a final stand against the enemy and wins in glorious victory. Amidst fear and despair, the final chapter always ends in a fulfillment of hope. And that’s what I see for these final months, as the sunset is fast approaching. Hope.
Hope that God’s not done with me yet. Hope that there’s still greater things to come. Hope that I can still find the radical change I’ve hoped for. Hope that there’s still time to turn things around. Hope that prayers will be answered, dreams will be fulfilled, and that God’s presence will be fully made known. Hope that even if I come home from this thing not feeling much different than when I left, that God’s purposes for this trip will extend beyond me for many years to come.
Okay, so maybe finishing the Race won’t feel like that moment in “Return of the King”, where Frodo and Sam throw the ring in the volcano and destroy Sauron (though, how great would that be to come home to America being carried by a giant eagle?). Maybe my life after the Race will be hopelessly boring, and I’ll be aching to return. Maybe the things I miss aren’t as great as I remember them being.
But God has a purpose for keeping me on the Race for three more months – to keep loving the people around me, serving with my whole heart, and pursuing Jesus with everything I’ve got.
And right now, that’s enough for me.
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” Colossians 3:23-24
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Check out photo highlights from our last week here in Kigale and Kubuga, Rwanda!
