It’s taken me four written attempts to try and sum up my thoughts on this question. Trying to boil down a succession of life events to one specific common theme has been, well, more challenging than initially expected. But here it goes.
Why am I going on the World Race?
When I announced my World Race plans, most of my friends and family were surprisingly supportive. Having spent the past year pursuing a career in theatre in New York City, I expected people to wonder why I was now taking such a detour. Leaving the Big Apple for the World Race, and halting any career momentum I may be building here, seems like a strange turn in the opposite direction. But I’ve since learned it isn’t as much of a detour as it seems.
When I initially began thinking about the World Race, there were a couple of things that excited me. For one, I’d get to satisfy the wanderlust spirit in me before I got too tied down. I knew I might not ever get the opportunity to see the world otherwise! Two, I was starting to encounter God in new ways, and was thus feeling called to greater purposes – traveling the world and living a rugged life to preach the gospel seemed like a pretty amazing way to do so. But one lingering feeling sat pensive in the back of my heart – choosing the World Race proved to myself, and I guess to God as well, that I was truly in it for Him. It would finally quiet that restless spirit of mine with enough good works to prove that I’m a “real” Christian. I resented the notion that my life with Christ was meant to be lived for myself. I wanted adventure, and I wanted Him.
When I started my Senior Year of college, I was ready to take my faith more seriously. I knew that in a year I would leave little old Lynchburg, Virginia to emerge into the real world, and that God was going to have amazing purposes for my life if I surrendered totally to His will. When I thought about those “amazing purposes”, those mountaintop experiences, I imagined beautiful moments of intimacy hugging children and dancing in worship and laughing and standing in awe of His beautiful creation. Having the World Race on the docket of future plans let me stand comfortable in knowing that eventually I would make my sacrifices for the Lord.
In college, I felt prepared for the World Race. I had four years of Biblical training under my belt, plenty of friends giving me words of encouragement and blessing, and clear vision for what the Lord would do with my life. I knew what I believed and what I didn’t. I had a strict moral code, and didn’t see myself ever turning from that. I felt peace knowing that the World Race would be a year of my life booked up with God’s plans. I didn’t need to worry about anything else.
Well, then my plans changed. I moved to New York City.
And to my surprise, I was not prepared.
In college, I became a huge fan of a series of documentaries by Darren Wilson (“Holy Ghost”, “Furious Love”, “Father of Lights”, etc.) that detail dozens of different encounters that evangelists had on the streets with strangers. Incredible miracles documented on tape – healed wounds, sight restored, lame men walking, witch doctors delivered of demons, etc. In my mind, the World Race was going to be this experience for me. Once I got into those poor villages with dirt roads and tin roof shanties, I would suddenly feel like a Christian superhero. I believed I would be bold enough to do the things that the apostles did. I had never actually done these things myself, but I believed I could. I believed it when people spoke over me that God wanted to heal people through my laying of hands. I believed that God spoke to me in images and specific words of wisdom that I could approach strangers with. I believed I was bold enough to do these kinds of things once I stepped out in the real world.
I felt awesome. But then I moved to New York City, and that boldness that I carried inside me suddenly shrunk down to the size of a golf ball.
New York City is overwhelming. There’s people EVERYWHERE. Every day on my morning commute, I wedge myself in between strangers just to fit on the subway car. I hear so many pleas for money from homeless people on the street that I’ve started to critique their sales pitches. I’m so used to being bombarded by the depravity of it all that I’m starting to grow immune to it. Detached. Numb.
It was easy to live for myself in Lynchburg, because the need around me wasn’t nearly as obvious. Now, I feel guilt buying dinner for myself when I pass someone on the street who hasn’t eaten all day. A couple of times, I’ve stepped out to give someone money or food, but in the end I still feel this weight that I could have done more. Loved more. Sacrificed more. Like what I had to offer wasn’t enough.
In the past year, I’ve wrestled with constant anxiety over my purpose here. Millions of people here don’t know Jesus, and I just walk past them without a care. Back when I lived in Lynchburg, the thought of praying for someone on the street sounded fulfilling beyond measure. Now, when I walk down the street and see someone with a limp, my heart skips a couple beats and I turn my mind off hoping God doesn’t call me to do something. I used to be thrilled when God gave me a special assignment; now, I want to vomit whenever I hear that still, small voice. In college, I felt so much purpose in sharing the love of Christ with people. But here, I sometimes wonder if I even want Jesus.
This is a city of desperate need. But who am I, a weak fledgling Christian, to be the one to serve that need?
I can’t do this. I don’t even want to do this. Why is God calling me to do this?
Why am I going on the World Race?
I used to have so many answers as to why I was going to do the World Race. But when the Lord sent me to New York City, and I started to see my own deficiencies, my questions outnumbered my answers. I started to see that the confidence I held in my own abilities was false when put to the test. I discovered I wasn’t as self-sufficient or as strong as I thought I was.
I thought I had a heart for the broken and hurting. I thought I had a heart to put the Kingdom first. Having been a Christian my whole life, I thought I had fixed myself enough. That I didn’t need any more grace. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I needed the grace to fail.
I needed the grace to see my weaknesses.
I needed the grace to accept how much I truly need Jesus.
I needed the grace to see that the World Race doesn’t start when I leave on that plane in October, but every morning I step out of my house.
In my 23-year span of Christian life, I’ve probably shared the Gospel with maybe five total strangers. I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m terrible at ministry. And yet, as a follower of Christ, I’m commanded to love those without love, to serve those in need, to rescue those in trials, to be a light in the darkness, and to bear my own cross for Him. I’m not meant to live for myself, as much as my culture believes I should… But I’ve been pretty comfortable doing so anyway.
I’m great at making acquaintances, but opening up is hard. I’m good at doing something for someone, but not always great at being something for someone. I’m great at starting conversations with people, but I’m not the best at knowing how to bring Jesus in. I can listen to a story just fine, but I’m not always great at empathizing. I’m good at ignoring my mistakes, but I’m awful at confronting those issues head on. I’m pretty good at taking command, but not great at listening to God’s voice. I’m good at planning, but terrible at impulsively letting the Holy Spirit lead me. I’m great at doing something I’ve done before, but I’m quick to feel defeated if something seems impossible for me.
I don’t in any way feel ready for what I’m about to do, and that’s what makes it awesome.
I don’t have to be gifted in ministry to serve Him. All God wants is obedience and a willingness to be sacrificial. I used to think that I’d be a pretty awesome missionary once I got on the World Race, but after this past year, I know this won’t be true. I’m going to have to trust Him a heck of a lot more than I’m used to. Even in the face of fear, I’ll have to step out in faith believing that God can do the impossible. And I know without a doubt that I will fail countless times on this trip, but it will be God’s grace sustaining me regardless.
I’m ready for real change. I want my heart to be entirely focused on the Lord and on others. I want to learn how to serve and to love wholeheartedly without selfish ambition. I want to learn obedience to the radical call of God in any moment. I want to grow into my identity as a Son of God and not “Jonathan the Artist”. I want to see Jesus glorified even through my mistakes. I want to see hundreds of thousands of people meet Jesus simply because I obeyed His call.
I’m not ready to run this Race. But I’m ready to let Jesus move through me.
Does that answer the question?
“But He said to me ’My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 CORINTHIANS 12:9-10 (NIV)
