My friend Kyle is one of my favourite people.
Last year, when we were first becoming friends, I got pissed off at him a lot – mostly because I observed him saying and doing things that I myself also did; but it was easier to be annoyed with him about his habits than it was to take a look into myself and make a change. (Writing this now, I’m not sure that he actually knew this. At any rate, he does now.)
One night about a month before I left for the Race, I came over to his place but he suggested we instead try out a new local bar. I hadn’t bothered to wear shoes, but I found some bright pink sneakers in the trunk of my car and we drove down to Fog’s in his renovated cop car with my new black dress bunched around my knees and sneakers kicked up on the dash.
Once inside the bar, I launched into a confession that our communication lately had been lacking, and Kyle ran his hand over his face like it had been three days since he’d slept and I knew he was gearing up for an apology. But a few minutes later, the lines were clear, the waiter brought over another round, and I sat back in my seat, the air not quite as thin as it had seemed when we walked in.
I remember that night outside of my fashion faux pas because I remember that I felt really seen.
The first time I met the guy, I was in a season where many people I loved and had invested in were falling out of my life. I had done a crappy job of being vulnerable with them, opting instead to believe that if I actually told them who I was and gave all the love I had to give, I’d be emotionally bankrupt. This attitude led me into a season of isolation where I began hoarding my time and energies, locking myself up in a mental tower of my singular, personal interests, only emerging to respond to direct questions and order food at the drive-thru.
I knew I was goofy, tough, oblivious, wordy, introverted, smart and prideful, but I didn’t know that I was allowed to be all those things at the same time . . . so I hid myself instead.
I decided from day one that Kyle was someone I wasn’t gonna try to impress or hide from, and that simple decision made all the difference in our friendship.
Donald Miller says in his book Scary Close that “The more fully we live into ourselves, the more impact we will have. Acting may get us the applause we want, but taking a risk on being ourselves is the only path toward true intimacy.” He also wonders if the time we spend trying to become somebody people will love isn’t wasted because the most powerful, most attractive person we can be is who we already are.
Being on the World Race offers little room to pretend. When you are living with four girls who see you 24 hours a day, seven days a week, wearing a mask gets hard real fast. I knew I had an opportunity to be whoever I wanted to be for 48 total strangers who knew little about me. What I didn’t expect was how easy it would be to simply be myself.
My teammates Taylor, Emily, Tabitha and Felicia do a beautiful job of loving me for exactly who I am, even if they aren’t totally sure who that is yet. We are still very much trying to get to know one another; but with them, I feel safe. I am safe.
I feel seen.
As I close out this first month on the Race, I can look over my shoulder and see the blind trust, coupled with the willingness to be vulnerable, firming up the foundation on which God will build the next ten months.
In closing…
For the past four weeks, Team ETC. has loved on Serbia by cleaning buckets of paprika peppers in the white-hot Serbian sunshine, ministering to local shop owners, spending hours upon hours in the woods with machetes clearing away vegetation to make room for future construction projects, and sitting in at least a dozen smoky living rooms listening to men and old woman share their Serbian heritage while pushing bowls of smushy figs into our laps.
Oh, those figs.
September has been a transformative month for our team, although all of us have been feeling kind of guilty for the crazy amount of personal growth we’ve experienced here – after all, isn’t a mission trip a place where you focus on everybody except yourselves?!
But as of this cool Thursday evening, I’m over feeling guilty about it, simply because God is magnificent in His timing and there just was no way I expected He’d begin my ministry by refining me into a better minister. He knew I couldn’t give out of what I didn’t have. And I’m leaving Serbia with a sense of security in my identity, a spirit of authenticity, a heart of compassion for the oppressed, and four new sisters.
One month down, ten to go.
Albania, I cannot WAIT to meet you.
