When I first read about the World Race, my heart fell into my stomach, my eye’s widened and my mind began to race with a thousand questions. Discovering the World Race was like a dream come true of a dream I didn’t know I actually had.
One of my favorite things these days is YouTube and one of my favorite YouTube channels to watch belongs to a family nicknamed the Shaytards. This group of seven, films their life every day and shares it online. They have been doing this for more than five years and have since experienced an incredible amount of life changing success. The father of the family, Shay Carl, is known for his formerly big size and even bigger personality and beard. He often says that their success on YouTube is a dream come true of a dream he never knew he had. That is the only way I can explain my sudden realization of the call to the mission field. It’s a dream come true, I just wasn’t previously aware this was my dream. I never felt so immediately drawn to something and then shortly after so utterly terrified of it.
When I was in eighth grade I had a similar sudden urge to be an athlete. One of the coaches at my school made an announcement at lunch time inviting all girls to sign-up for soccer tryouts. I hadn’t participated in many sports at school and in general wasn’t very athletic. My own mother says I run funny and my only prior experience on a soccer team was in fourth grade. The fourth grade coach told us to raise our hand if we were tired and needed to come out of the game. I used to run around the entire game with my hand up. I still to this day don’t know all the rules of soccer but for some reason, in that moment I really wanted to be on the team. I wanted to try out so bad but I was terrified of telling anyone because I thought they would laugh out loud at the hysterical joke I just told.
To make it worse, in order to sign-up you had to physically get up in front of everyone and walk across the lunchroom to put your name down. A long walk telling everyone in the room, you were operating under the impression that you were in fact good enough for the girl’s soccer team. I couldn’t bear that so I stayed in my seat fighting any and all urges to bend it like Beckham.
Still dissatisfied, I went to the office of the coach after school and told him I wanted to try out but was really scared to have anyone know about it, too scared to even write my name on the sign-up sheet. He told me if I showed up on Monday to try-outs he would be expecting me and if I didn’t we would never speak of it again.
I liked his offer and I decided to show up that Monday. I did so in tennis shoes, basketball shorts, softball socks and with a borrowed soccer ball. I continued to show up every day that week and I ran as fast as I could (not fast at all) and yelled as loud as I could and at the end of the week was told I had made the team. I probably didn’t deserve to be on the team as far as skill is concerned, but I fit the role of, “player with a lot of heart,” just right.
What scared me most about trying out for the soccer team was that I didn’t think I had the proper identity required for the team. I wasn’t known as an athlete or a cool kid and was pretty sure that most people didn’t really like me. I was scared that I couldn’t be a soccer player because I wasn’t worthy of the honor. Even when I was awarded a spot on the team I was scared to tell my fellow classmates. I felt like I was keeping a dirty secret, faking soccer player and at any moment anyone could find out my secret and expose me for the faker I was.
I wasn’t completely wrong about this either, everyone was shocked when I showed up to school the day of our first game in the team uniform. I got a lot of questions like: “You’re on the soccer team?” “Do you know how to play soccer?” “I don’t understand how this is a thing that’s currently happening.” “Are you aware that at this moment you’re wearing a soccer jersey?” (the last two were hyperbole).
I remember being at my locker once and a boy named Henry (don’t remember his last name) asked one of my teammates Sarah Fink if I was any good at soccer. She kindly lied for me and said, “Oh yeah, she’s pretty good.” I appreciated her fib and continued to live another day in fear that people would find out I was not worthy of the little soccer ball printed on the left-hand side of my team sweatshirt.
I didn’t play a lot at first but I worked really hard and got better and better. I learned who to pass the ball to when and managed not to cry when the ball hit me in the face. Our team went on to play for the championship and for that final game the coach put me at starting forward. We didn’t win but at half time he asked everyone to give it up for me because I was the year’s most improved player. Even though I decided to end my soccer career on a high note and hang up my cleats, it seemed I was, in fact, worthy and capable of the space I held that year on the soccer team.
The fear and anxiety I had surrounding the soccer tryouts are very similar to what has gone on in my heart surrounding the World Race. Despite my incredible Shay Carl-size desire to participate, I immediately felt unworthy, inexperienced and out of my league. Similar to my after-school conversation with the coach in eighth grade, I brought my concerns privately to God.
I said a lot of things like: “I know you want me to do this, but I can’t. I’m scared and I don’t know how. I haven’t memorized enough scripture or done anything like this before. I drank too much in college and ignored You for nearly the entire four years. We just became friends again, this will seem absurd to people. I can’t be a missionary. I can’t tell other people about your love, I can barely tell my own family and friends.”
Like my soccer coach, God patiently and lovingly told me He would be expecting me. It took me about a month to work through the insecurity but I finally said yes. Yes, I will show up, even though I don’t have my own soccer ball or appropriate clothing. Yes, I will show up even though I am terrified and embarrassed and have no idea what this means. Yes, I will show up, because even though it doesn’t make any sense, serving You in this way feels like something I have wanted my whole life, something I can’t say no to.
However, just like in middle school the real fear wasn’t just making the team (getting accepted to the race) it was telling everyone. Even after I said yes I will apply, I still, up until recently, had intense insecurities surrounding my worth. I think I genuinely felt that I was faking Christian and that at some point, the bottom would fall out and everyone would find out I was a liar. (I know that doesn’t even make actual sense).
I shared these insecurities recently with one of the pastors at my church and she helped me see the difference between the World Race and the St. Francis Middle School Girl’s Soccer team. The difference is that there isn’t a truth to come out this time. I don’t need Sarah Fink to lie and tell Henry (still can’t remember his last name) that I am actually a loved woman of God. He tells me that for a fact Himself every day. I don’t have to worry about lies surfacing because the only ones ever told were the ones telling me I wasn’t good enough.
The truth about me (and all of us) is that God has loved me the same my whole life. He loves me as much now as He did when I was too cool for Him in college and when I was starting at the middle school soccer championship. He loves me just as much as He always has, even though it took me a while to figure out exactly what that meant.
At the end of the day, no one is ever going to be worthy of His love, but He freely gives it anyway. God will tell us He is expecting us and all he wants us to do is say yes and that we will show up. He supplies all the worth and experience needed and possibly even a few soccer balls too.
People simply need to experience His love and he invites us just as we are to be one of the many ways He shares it with the world. I am grateful to receive that love and happy to accept the invitation to share it. That is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so (You better) help me God.
