I have a confession to make.
I never really wanted to go on the
World Race.
Please don’t stop reading here. I feel I need to explain myself.
When I was called to this crazy
11-month journey, part of me was very excited about the opportunity to travel
the world and love on others. But an
even bigger part of me screamed and fought and wrestled against it. “This
is not for me. I can’t do
this. I really don’t want to do this, God. Why would you pick me of all people?” Out of a sheer act of obedience, I
signed up for the Race despite my reservations.
And
so I began an extreme game of tug-of-war with God.
You see I’ve never wanted to be a
missionary. That was always someone else’s job.
I’ve never enjoyed “roughing it.” That was always something I avoided
with gusto.
Being away from family and friends for
nearly a year? Impossible for
me.
On top of all those things, I’ve always
loved my comforts. Scratch that;
I’ve always had a death grip around
them. Even the tiniest things that
I daily took for granted have been constantly swirling in my mind since I left
home, as ridiculous as it sounds.
It was this month that I realized just
how entwined I’ve become with those comforts. And, honestly, I didn’t expect to reach this point so soon
this year.
I knew upon signing up for this race
that I’d be giving up a lot. I
just tried to not think about what that would probably entail. Instead I chose to run away, something
I’ve become very good at. And, for
the majority of this month, I have been running blindly through the
desert. Away from the
difficulty. Away from the
pain. Away from God.
I ran from my team, I ran from my
thoughts, I ran from my emotions, I even ran from blogging. I hated being faced with the reality
that God is now ALL I HAVE. Everything that was once comfortable
and familiar has been stripped away.
Everything I have ever leaned on is now gone.
It’s like I’m locked in an empty room
with nothing and no one else but me and God. And now He is performing surgery on me; an intense,
complicated open-heart surgery that hurts more than words can describe. And
I can no longer run.
I share all this with you (despite my
stubborn hesitation) because I’m too
tired to keep up this exhausting cycle of running and hiding and pretending
everything is fine when it’s not. I’m tired of stuffing my emotions down into that dark hole
that has become my secret hiding place.
This thing is real. It’s
not just a trip around the world.
It’s a difficult and painful journey. But I will persevere, because it’s also a journey that will
result in something indescribably beautiful. I have to believe with everything in me that at the end of
this year I will be a new creation and that my prayer in the desert won’t be
ignored.
“Consider it a sheer gift, friends,
when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into
the open and shows its true colors.
So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature
and well-developed, not deficient in any way.”
-James 1:2-4 (MSG)
