I woke up in the middle of the night a few weeks ago because God spoke a powerful word to me and I had to write it down:
You never lacked ambition, you lacked direction.
That one hit me deep. One of my biggest insecurities/fears I was able to recognize while on the Race is of laziness. More specifically, that people perceive me as lazy. I am truly a product of my generation in that the question I’ve asked myself and scrambled to answer since about age sixteen, is “what can I do with my life?” No, not “what do I want to do?” but rather, a realistic “what can I do?”. Because for people my age and younger entering the adult world, it isn’t a question of choice in finding your place and building your life anymore. It’s a question of opportunity. Sure, I’m young and the world is my oyster. But if we’re using ocean-related metaphors, there are also a lot of sharks out here that look a lot like student loans. And surprise, that’s no ordinary sand, it’s debt disguised as quicksand, and suddenly I have a lot fewer oysters. You get it.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt lost and overwhelmed with big, huge dreams and an eager willingness, yet an uncertainty and near-crippling anxiety of the logistics to reach an end goal so high in the clouds. When I was in high school, God told me not to go to college. It was one of the first times I distinctly and confidently heard His voice. So I stuck to it, firmly clinging to a command I had no doubt in my mind was directly from my Father. “Mallory Price is moving to Tennessee and pursuing endeavors of which she has yet to determine” was read in place of a college choice and a declared major as I walked across the stage at my high school graduation. (Yes, I wrote and requested that myself.)
You never lacked ambition, you lacked direction. God finally silenced that once deep insecurity. And in doing so, He reminded me once again of His amazing faithfulness.
A staff member with AIM once advised us to think of the Race as not your career or sole life’s work, but instead as a college or university training and experience. It’s the intensive training that will serve as a launching point to live the rest of your life on mission with a kingdom mindset. I really, really love that description so that’s what I tell people now, and that’s what I remind myself only about a thousand times a day now. The Race wasn’t it, it was only the beginning.
So you’ve probably clicked here and read this far because you’re curious about what the heck I’m doing with my life now. I want to share it all with you, family, friends, supporters, but I also want to tell it in a way that gives glory and praise to the Lord. I’m just forever in disbelief of what He’s done and is still doing with my life.
Way back in March, in Albania, I hit a point where I began to already feel overwhelmed with fear of not knowing what I was going to do after the Race. It was the halfway point of our eleven-month journey, month 6, and fear, insecurity, and doubt began to rear their ugly heads in me. I finally broke down in front of my team one day and I was able to boil it down to what the real root issue was: trust. I didn’t trust that God still wanted to use me after the Race. He revealed to me then that after telling me not to go to college so many years ago, I stopped trusting Him to direct my life. Sure, I still followed Him and said yes to step out in faith in some big ways like going on the Race in the first place. But those were not yes’s because I trusted in His goodness and sovereignty, they were instead yes’s of agreement. I agree with you God because I know just as well as You do and *I* want to do it. Prideful yes’s. Fearful and insecure yes’s.
So, I began praying into what He wanted next for me. Not what I wanted, not what I believed I was capable of. I told God I didn’t want anything that wasn’t from Him anymore. I told Him whatever, wherever, however, whenever He wanted to use me after the Race, it was a surrendered yes before I even knew the question. It wasn’t long after He gave me vision and said: “Mal, you are going to teach.”
In June, month 9 in Ethiopia, my entire squad served with HOPEthiopia, an organization that holds a big, beautiful vision to care for, educate, and provide homes for the millions of orphaned children in West Africa. We lived in a children’s village for the month and a few other squadmates and I formed the “teaching team”. We divided the kids up by ages and grade levels, and with our limited resources tackled new English lessons every day. I taught the first graders, six wonderful kids with high energy levels and low attention spans. At this point, I had taught English more than a few times on the Race and in many different ministry settings. But, this was my first traditional classroom experience. I was there every day to teach and help the kids with their English skills, but I quickly learned just how great of an opportunity I had to go even beyond that.
Each of these kids lived with HOPEthiopia because their parents were either not able to financially or physically care for them, or they had no parents at all. I never knew their exact stories, but even just a few minutes of sitting with, speaking to, or watching the kids interact it was no secret they had experienced serious trauma and brokenness in their lives. One child in particular presented some tough behavioral issues. One day, he was acting out more than usual. I told him he could not participate in our game if he did not listen to me and respect his classmates and friends. I said the word “no” and he slapped me across the arm out of anger. My eyes immediately filled with tears and my heart broke not because this nine-year-old boy hurt me or my feelings, but instead because I couldn’t help but imagine the pain, abuse, neglect, or loss he had experienced in his life that would produce such behavior. I asked him to leave our class and go play outside.
At the end of the month when it came time for us to say our goodbyes to the kids, I made a paper banner for this same little boy to hang above his bed. I drew his name on it, and wrote: God loves you and so do I! He didn’t want anything to do with me after I kicked him out of our class that day, but his face lit up when I showed him the banner. “For me?” he kept saying. I gave him a high-five and told him how smart he is and that God has a big plan for his life.
I’ve thought about this little boy just about every day since being home. When I think about teaching, when I envision what the Lord has called me to, I picture his face. I don’t want to be the teacher that gives up on or passes along the “difficult” kids. I want to love the ones that are hard to love. The ones who will hit me, kick me, call me rude or inappropriate names, or treat me in the same way they’ve been treated their whole lives. The Lord has given me such a passion and a heart for those children who may have a severely twisted idea of what love looks like. I want to love them like Jesus would. I want them to know they are special, chosen, important, beloved, and worthy of big dreams and doing big, impossible, unexpected things with their lives.
So what’s next for me is the thing I said I’d never do: college. I’m attending an online university for the time being studying Early Childhood Education, which will hopefully turn into a Bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education down the road. The Lord has called me to teach, but more than that, He’s called me to disciple and to be an advocate for the coming generations both locally in America and internationally. I never knew I even wanted to teach until He gave me the long-term vision for my life and told me I’m going to. I couldn’t be more proud of or excited for this piece of the kingdom He’s asked me to build.
Reentry and transitioning home has been difficult. I think I’ve shared that more than a few times. But I’m pushing myself to choose joy and to walk in never-ceasing gratitude these days for the answered prayers I’m currently receiving. Most everything I prayed coming off the Race has been met with a yes and amen, and it’s been so beautiful to watch the Lord at work in my life these last few weeks and months. Deep, tear-filled praises are going up because He is so faithful! It’s my sincerest hope that my life and my World Race journey serves as a testament to that above all else.
He broke my chains of depression, anxiety, insecurity, fear, apathy, and self-hate. Dearest friends, what won’t He do for you?
