There’s a story unfolding.
A really good story.
A story trembling with anticipation of something great.
A story that’s been going for 23 years, and is still just getting started.
Sometimes, I wish I could skip to the end. Sometimes I bug the Author about it. But there are very few authors who would reveal their ending so easily. That, of course, would spoil the thrill of the story itself. It would make the story seem like a trifle. And His stories are anything but.
So let me tell you about this new chapter. It’s the best one yet.
Let me tell you my World Race story.
I should probably preface this story by telling you this: I’m no stranger to the missions field. Having lived four years of my life in Nicaragua, I’ve developed an appreciation for other cultures outside of my own. Having seen poverty at its lowest levels, I grew up with many opportunities to serve in the midst of it alongside my family. Life outside the States is not too hard to imagine. But being personally called to be the missions field? We must be speaking a different language.
I first heard about the World Race through a friend a couple of years ago. When she announced the details of her trip, I thought “Good for her. She’s totally built for this. I’m sure God’s gonna do amazing things through her.” And so, she went out for her eleven months overseas, while I casually followed her adventures from the comforts of home. When she returned we caught up briefly, and as expected, she had that glow of satisfaction that could’ve only come from doing the Lord’s work. I was really proud of her determination to endure such a daunting journey, but still the distance between myself and the possibility of such a journey was insurmountable. My world was theatre. The World Race was so far outside of my box of plausible life choices it was in another time zone.
It was two years ago, around the same time this friend returned from her Race, that I was preparing with a small team from my college theatre department to head out on a two-week missions trip to Kenya. For months, we met to pray and plan all of the amazing things we felt God had for us to do over there. Despite having lived overseas, this was my first official missions trip as an adult. This specific semester was a huge time of personal spiritual growth, where I started seeing God manifest Himself in the miraculous, and I started believing for more in a deeply personal and real relationship with God. This trip was going to be the perfect time and place for me to test out my new “spiritual giftings”.
May 2014 rolled around, and our excited little team hopped on a plane to the other side of the world. But, as we landed in Doha, Qatar to connect to our flight to Nairobi, Kenya, we hid a road block. The US embassy in Nairobi was closed due to terrorist threats. Because of this, my school deemed it safest that we cancel the trip and turn back. And so, after spending two bizarre days in the Middle East, we hopped on a return flight home with deflated spirits and bruised pride. “What was the point of all of this, Lord?” I wondered. My hunger to experience the world and to see the love of Christ manifest through missions would now never get to be satisfied. “What could you possibly have in store now?”
And then, several days after I returned home, I had a dream.
About the World Race.
No, this wasn’t like a Joseph dream. I don’t remember anyone bowing down, or anything about wheat or corn to speak of. Honestly, I can’t even tell you what happened in the dream. But, as if a voice had spoken deep within me, I woke up the next morning in breathless bewilderment. That dream was something…
I wrote it down in my journal that morning, and told the Lord that if this was something He was calling me to, He had better keep it on my mind. These kind of crazy ideas would come to my mind all the time, but very few of those ideas hung on as tightly as this one. For months afterward, as I started to reread my friend’s old World Race blogs and pray for greater confirmation of the Lord hand in this, I could feel this rush I’d never known before. It was exhilarating; I felt like it was my secret mission, my special assignment straight from God. A year of truly living out the life of an apostle. No distractions; just total surrender. A year of truly living full out for God.
I kept it a secret all that summer, telling no one until I knew for sure this is what I was called to. But by the time the Fall semester rolled around, I still never got my confirmation. I don’t know what kind of sign I was hoping for. I’m pretty sure Jesus could’ve come down from Heaven to call me to this, and I still would’ve second guessed it. (Full disclosure – I even went looking for four-leaf clovers just to see if that’d be enough of a sign…). Finally, I asked the Lord why I hadn’t gotten the confirmation I was hoping for… And then came the still, small voice.
Just say “yes”. Then see how I confirm it.
So I said “yes”. I made my plans. I would finish the school year, graduate, take a couple months off to fundraise and rest, and then head out on my year-long missions trip in January 2016.
Yeah, January 2016. Obviously, something changed.
Well, later that semester, God started putting another direction on my heart: New York City. I’ve always loved visiting the Big Apple, but I distinctly remember a point during that semester where my heart suddenly longed to be at home there. An opportunity opened up for me to apply for an incredible internship in NYC for the coming summer, and I jumped on that with everything I had. After all, I could still do the internship AND go on the World Race. Nothing could stop my plans!
The first week of February 2015 was Missions Emphasis Week at Liberty. It also happened to be the week where the World Race routes for January 2016 would be announced. Perfect timing, right? I had a couple of countries in mind that I felt God wanted me to go to, so I knew that when I saw the routes, I would know which one I was called to. I spent that whole week seeking the Lord, so excited to find out His amazing plans He had for me. Nevermind that small voice deep down that had me feeling like something wasn’t right…
Finally, the routes were announced.
As I flipped through the listings, my hands shaking, I started to feel my heart sink. One by one, I analyzed each route, waiting for that lurch in my heart that says “That’s the one”. It never came.
I was furious at God. How could He do this to me? How could He so clearly lay out my post-graduation plan, only to rip it from me like this? Why would He call me to the World Race, only so that I wouldn’t go?? This was the Kenya trip all over again.
The next day, I was offered the internship in New York City.
And that was where He wanted me.
For the next year, He wanted me in New York City. Despite all my previous plans, and my lack of current plans, I knew the next year of my life was going to be in that city. So the World Race settled back up on the shelf as I made the move to the Big Apple.
Fast forward a couple more months. I’ve just accepted a full-time, one-year contract working for the company I interned for the past summer. Miraculous provision, and a whole year of stability set before me in the city of my dreams. I’m at Planet Fitness one day after work, about to hit the treadmill, while casually scanning Facebook. Then I see it. “October 2016 Routes Announced!”
And I felt it. That feeling.
This came as a surprise. The World Race never leaves in October. And I knew with my current job contract, I could never do the usual September routes because of the timing of training camp. But October? Just right. So I said a quick prayer. “Lord, if this is when you want me to go, please make it clear. Show me the route you want me to take.”
I sat down. I read the list slowly, taking in each country on the routes.
I stopped at the third route.
And I felt it again. That feeling.
It was time.
And so I said “yes”. I applied. I was accepted. And here we are.
Over the course of the two years the World Race has been on my heart, I haven’t been able to put it out of my mind. I’m sure I’ve driven all my friends crazy with how much time I’ve spent obsessing over this decision. And now that it’s actually happening, it still doesn’t even feel real. Sure, some mornings I wake up and wonder if I’m in my right mind doing this. Other nights, I can’t sleep because I’m so excited. I’ve been able to watch this story unfold piece by piece, chapter by chapter, and I’ve still yet to even go.
And you know what’s cool? I never got my “voice from the clouds” moment. I never needed a stranger to suddenly approach me with a prophetic word about my future in missions. I never needed to hear Him say it from a burning bush. Because I knew. Over the course of this past year, as I’ve begun a new life in New York City, I’ve seen His hand in it all. I’ve realized the things He needed to teach me before I could go. I’ve realized the parts of my heart that just weren’t ready for the Race. I’ve continually felt confirmation in my spirit that this was something I wanted to do. I’ve had to trust His plan over mine, and trust His provision over my comfort. I’ve had to trust Him enough to say “yes” before I knew all the details. I’ve counted the cost, and I’m choosing to go.
I’m telling you guys, God has written a far better story than I could ever have written. If I had written it, it would’ve been over quickly. Worst of all, it would’ve been my story and my glory.
But I didn’t write it. He did.
And he’s just getting started.
