dear current racer or aspiring racer or anyone that’s curious,
the world race isn’t a place to have your crap together. rather it’s like any season of life, you bring all the baggage and weight of your past and present to lay it at the feet of our Dad and say here I am. i love you. i want spend my days serving you. you see this 9 month crazy adventure doesn’t look like knowing the answers. it doesn’t look like taking pictures in front of really cool mountains all the time. it doesn’t look like being on a spiritual high for a couple of months. it doesn’t look like being a super spiritually mature human to impress others. it doesn’t look like being a hero missionary in your hometown. it doesn’t look like taking pictures with babies just to up your instagram followers. it doesn’t look like perfect harmony with all your squadmates all the time. it doesn’t even look like doing ministry 24/7. and it especially doesn’t look like being a perfect human.
more often then not the world race truly looks like painful belly laughs at 2 am, listening to Gods plan, eating frosted flakes (because we found some of america in africa) in a tent where i have never sweat so much in my life. it looks like a handful of tears underneath the covers, where most likely your teammates will discover you, sit with you, and cry with you. it looks like dancing with an old lady in circles for 2 hours just to make her laugh and smile. it looks like sprinting through our compound in India anytime you were out of your tent for fear you be swarmed by black beatles that smelled like tea tree oil gone bad. it looks like holding on to precious moments like the time a 98 year old lady held my hand in zambia crying with tears of joy after we prayed over her. it looks like some of the most vulnerable, raw, and transparent friendships you will ever make in your life. sometimes it even looks like trekking in the jungle of Nepal, going to houses five miles apart and trying to tell people about Jesus, a name they have never heard before. it looks like not showering for 3 weeks straight. it looks like forgetting toilet paper on your 30 hour bus ride. it looks like dying to yourself daily for the sake of the honor we have to spread the Gospel to the nations. it looks like every expectation you ever had being shattered and replaced with something that is better and equally horrifying. and to be completely honest with you all, it looks like hardly ever having your crap together.
but more then any of these things, it truly looks like approaching the throne of the Lord. you can leave your masks, shackles and burdens at the door, and be human, full of all the faults and shortcomings. you can approach the throne and the race with boldness but also a humble spirit accompanied by willingness to seek growth like you’ve never experienced before, taking comfort in the fact that you will be truly known, and truly loved. and because of this truth, this 9 month journey will be nothing short of hard but also some of the best 9 months you’ll ever live.
i don’t say any of these things to discourage you, rather to transparently assure you that through every hard second, hour and day, our Father is right there with us. He’s there when we are bringing kingdom and He’s there even when we fall short. as much as my flesh wants all the glory for the hard and amazing things i’ve walked through on the race, i am in no way deserving of any praise or admiration. I am so human. just as much as the next person. in fact every racer is. and so I want to boast in my weakness, so that in my weakness my Saviors power may be displayed. and that’s just it. that’s what this life is all about. just to bring all the baggage and weight of your past and present to lay it at the feet of our Dad and say here I am. i love you. i want spend my days serving you.
from: another racer
