1. It tested my obedience.
For some people, the process of pursuing the Race was a gift. They were born to do this, man. Agreeing to follow God’s prompting and pursue 11 months evangelizing abroad was easier than dropping a letter in the mailbox.
I respect those people.
I was not this person.
From the get-go, the World Race was a crash-course in releasing control and saying “yes” to God’s direction, and there were countless times when this blessed gift from God had me feeling like a four year-old behind the wheel of a Mercedes-Benz.
But for all the awkward moments, all the mornings spent trying to divide $16,267 into a more reasonable number and every midnight I lay awake counting t-shirt orders instead of sheep, my obedience taught me something comfort never could: God lives in the space just beyond our comfort zones. There is never glory without sacrifice. All he asks of us to kick-start the journey from average to extraordinary is our (whispered, shouted, heart-pounding) “yes”.
2. It taught me the importance of community.
Community is to the World Race what a foundation is to a house. You can try to function without it, but it’ll be awfully hard to build anything capable of withstanding storms.
I came onto the World Race believing self-sufficiency was the greatest quality a human could possess, and made it a whole six weeks before I buckled under the weight of my pride.
Some of it was in spite of my effort – there’s only so much you can keep secret when you’re sharing a two-bedroom house with 43 squad-mates and hanging your underwear over the same stretch of chicken coop fencing. But, dang. The deep dive into friendship was worth the few seconds of falling. I had the opportunity to access more support than I knew existed, and it exists to this day.
My World Race friends are more than friends – they are the family I got to choose.
3. It challenged my faith.
I’ve never flung heavier questions toward heaven than when I was on the World Race. Why did God heal the Zimbabwean man I prayed for, but not my little sister? Did struggling with depression make me a bad Christian? How did a loving God allow hundreds of men, women and children to die just miles from the coast of our Syrian refugee relief camp? Could my life, a drop in an infinite ocean of souls, make the difference I’d been taught it would?
In every one of those situations, God welcomed my frustrations with loving patience, clearing the room the way a parent does for a tantruming child. He let me wrestle with the big questions. He wasn’t intimidated by my anger or lapses of faith. And when I returned to him, tired and broken down from the weight of existential crisis, he comforted me with truth: he would never leave me or fosake me. Armed with this unconditional love, I dealt the death blow to struggles with anxiety, pornography, alcoholism, and loneliness.
I came on the World Race clattering with chains, mistaking them as armor. I crossed the threshold of LAX eleven months later with a soul lighter than air.
4. It launched me into my calling.
There’s no way around it: you will come back from the World Race a different person. Whether or not you choose to maintain your growth and walk in freedom is up to you – but if you let God continue to guide you, the World Race is just the beginning. The World Race will not be the greatest thing you ever do.
And I could sit here and type out a list of opportunities and accomplishments the Race propelled me into, but I prefer to measure the impact by testimony.
The refugee who shared my teammate’s sleeping bag, the prostitute who buried me at Jenga, the Burmese schoolgirl who mistook my chalk-drawn dog for a donut – those people are my joy. Their hearts are the trophies lining the glass shelves of my soul.
What an honour it was to tell their stories, and invite hundreds of others to look into their eyes from 13,000 miles away.
In closing, the question I field the most isn’t about community or donut-dogs. Its this one: “Would you recommend the World Race?”
Yah. Yah, I would.
If the World Race is something that scares you, you should probably apply. You have everything to lose, and everything to gain.
You can be the radical who tells their story and raises their voice unapologetically, who lives life boldly. And you can do the thing that terrifies you the most, because fear is a compass, and God will bless your stepping out.
I dare you to trust Him and give Him the chance to prove it.
