In less than 24 hours, I will be on the World Race.
Technically, you could say the World Race has already begun. Since this past Saturday night, my squad has been staying at the Holiday Inn near the Atlanta airport, undergoing some last minute training before we launch into our mission around the World. While my bags are packed, my flights are booked, my parents have left, and I’m physically prepared to go, this past week has been a journey in and of its own to answer the pivotal question:
“So… are you ready?”
These past six weeks since training camp have been blissful. It’s been almost two years since I’ve spent good quality time with my family, and having so much free time has allowed for unfettered alone time with Jesus. And really, after the high-octane year I just had in New York City, this season of rest couldn’t have come at a better time. Over this month and a half, I learned and grew so much in my faith through in depth Scripture study and listening to the Holy Spirit, but also getting the chance to practice my ministry skills alongside my parents through outreach activities and bible studies. I got to visit my friends in my old college town and have some sweet final hours of fellowship with some of the dearest people I will ever know this side of Heaven. After training camp, I felt so much adrenaline gushing out of me. I was SO ready to go on the World Race. And after all of this time I had at home to rest, refocus, and be refreshed, I thought I would continue to feel the same.
But then something happened over these past six weeks.
I got comfortable.
See, at training camp, I was basically manhandled out of my comforts because of the rugged nature of camp living. I sweat for 10 days in the Georgia sun, slept in a hot stuffy tent, lived out of a large backpack, and ate strange foods. By the end of this camp, I felt like a stronger, more energized, focused, and adventurous version of myself. I felt like the kind of person ready to hit the World Race full force. But once I returned home to my queen sized bed and temperature controlled house… well, the adventure awaiting started to sound less and less appealing.
“Six weeks is a long time”, I thought. And it was. I knew that the comforts of home were not going to last, but that they were still gifts from God that I could appreciate for the season that I was in. I didn’t need to feel guilty about living such a comfortable life because I would eventually be stripping it away for Jesus. I didn’t need to do much hard work in my relationship with Jesus because I knew that this time was for rest. When people asked me how I felt about the trip ahead, I would tell them “fine!”, and mean it.
But then the week before launch, it hit me. I would soon be replacing my comfortable bed with four large pillows and an overhead ceiling fan for a small mattress pad that will likely pop sometime in the next year. I would soon be sweating through all my clothes instead of sitting comfortably on my shaded back porch nursing a lemonade. I would soon be face to face with new people and challenging perspectives instead of sitting alone in my room quietly journaling my vague feelings alongside some nice Bethel worship music.
And I realized. “Eleven months is a long time”.
A REALLY long time.
So I started to panic. I thought about all of the things I would need in the next year, and wondered how they could possibly fit into my small pack. I thought about my family and friends, people who knew me well and cared deeply for me, and wondered if I would ever know that kind of deep intimacy I had grown accustomed to. I thought about God, and everything He had called me into, and wondered if I actually wanted to say “yes” anymore.
Everything in me started to say “no”, but those stupid shirts I made kept telling me otherwise.
Oh, those stupid shirts.
I imagined the scenario in which I would stay in America for the next year. I could get a job at a local restaurant, have lots of unsolicited quiet time, maybe write a book or a play, and enjoy the fall as it transitioned into my favorite holiday seasons. Oh how sweet that would be.
And in a sense, I wondered if I would regret doing the World Race. Would I get out on the field and suddenly realize it wasn’t what I signed up for? And honestly, would I really change that much? I could already assume what kind of things I would learn from a year on mission, as if I actually needed to experience it. Hearing all of the encouragement from supporters regarding my “bravery” and “boldness” to go around the World made me feel as if I already had. But the actual act of doing these things people praised me for started to feel less than enticing.
Yet, time ticked forward, and I was looking at my last week home. My precious few remaining hours in Suwanee, Georgia were spent buying out the Wal-Mart health section with a stockpile of medications (to prevent basically any disease imaginable, because I’ll likely get all of them), having short but satisfying quality time with my brother and parents, and soaking in the crisp air of autumn that I’d soon be abandoning for my 11-month summer. Keeping myself busy helped distract my mind from my weird mix of emotions that rumbled around in the pit of my stomach like wrestlers in a cage match.
If my emotions from my last week were a painting, Picasso would be proud.
I felt guilty to be fully funded, telling people how excited I was that I was about to be going out on the adventure of a lifetime, when really, I kinda wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go anymore.
But it wasn’t until the last day or so at home where I found what I was needing. My last morning at home, as I stood in the shower thinking through the last couple of things I needed to pack, the Holy Spirit started stirring in my heart. I felt His overwhelming sense of peace and joy that started settling down over me like a warm blanket. I felt His power pulsating through my veins in sync with my heart beat. My adrenaline picked up as I started to imagine all of the stories I would get to tell of His amazing power and love displayed through my team’s ministries in the next year.
And suddenly, my flesh’s “no” turned into my spirit’s “OH HECK YES”.
(Reminder: This all happened in the shower. Yay God.)
Through my Scripture study in these past few weeks, the Lord has really highlighted the divide between the flesh and the spirit. The flesh, my physical body in this physical realm, is susceptible to the fallen nature of this world. However, my spirit, which contains the Spirit of God, has been given new and eternal life through the Blood of Jesus Christ. When we are admonished to live by the Spirit, we are instructed to do so because we know that the flesh is weak. The flesh always wants to be satisfied. The flesh always wants to be comfortable.
In the last few days leading up to launch, my flesh wanted nothing more but to continue on in the comfortable life I had lived my whole life. Sure, the idea of adventure and risk and reward and having a good story to tell sounded enticing, but the actual step of seeing this out was just a step too far.
Saying “yes” in concept is thrilling. Saying “yes” in practice is not.
But my spirit says “yes”. The Holy Spirit of God, who gave me the dream about the World Race, who whispered this vision into my mind for two years, who moved the hearts of dozens upon dozens of supporters to help me raise over $18,000, and who still moves in me today, says “yes”.
To getting uncomfortable. To choosing others over myself. To believing in things that are unseen. To loving people in need. To letting go of my boundaries. To conquering my fears.
In my flesh, I am not ready for the World Race. I am not qualified to do this trip. I don’t know that I’ll ever be qualified to do this trip.
But by my spirit, I am called. I am empowered. I am chosen.
I am in partnership with the God of the Universe.
I could tell you all about my fears and insecurities about the year ahead, about failing, or getting hurt, or being rejected, or missing home, or feeling uncomfortable. But in saying “yes” to the World Race, I am saying “yes” to living by the Spirit of God in me.
Because, as I’m being reminded daily, this trip is not about me. If it was, I would be at home drinking lemonade on the back porch and wondering what episode of “Friends” I should watch next. But if I’m going to have any story worth telling after these eleven months around the world, it’s not going to come out of my flesh.
This journey is a partnership with my God, and it starts with me just saying “yes”.
So, goodbye America. The dream of living the comfortable life my flesh has always wanted has been nice, but my Spirit has much greater dreams for me than my flesh can ever imagine.
It’s been a long journey, Lord, but I’m ready.
I’m ready for the World Race.
“Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires.” – Romans 8:5.
