Sometimes on the World Race you’re sitting alone at place ambiguously referred to as The Lodge. You rode 45 minutes in the back of a Defender, pressed up against the sketchy trunk and feeling the wind whip around your ankles. You came with 9 others who are all on “dates”—meaning they’re having one on ones with each other. You weren’t supposed to be in the van but you snuck on because you were just that desperate for a change of pace. Beyoncé is playing over the speakers and soft mutters of intimate conversation surround you. Your wifi, shockingly, won’t connect and you’re about to spend your entire month’s budget in one meal. And 4 desserts. You are—in reference to Parks & Rec—pulling an “Ann Perkins” and dating yourself.
It’s been a hard month. Two weeks ago to the day, you found out your dad died and you weren’t there and you couldn’t say goodbye. Since then, your laptop has been destroyed in a war with the bottom of someone’s foot, you’ve gotten violently ill in the dark of night, you’ve gotten more homesick than you ever thought possible, and for the first time ever, you’ve gotten angry at God.
Life on the race: it’s different than Instagram would lead you to believe. It’s different than anything you’ve ever experienced… trust me. I’ve written before about how easy and natural it’s been for me to find my identity in being “the happy one.” Since leaving home almost 60 days ago, I’ve found that to be especially true. Much to my delight, my team and squad daily shower praise on me for being so joyful and positive. It wasn’t until I started struggling—two weeks ago—that I was terrified of not being joyful, of having weaknesses, because I had begun to think that my happiness was the only reason anyone liked me. Isn’t it funny how the enemy takes these amazing qualities that the Lord has gifted us with and tries to make us feel guilty for them? Makes us question our worth even when we’re finding it in something good?
For the first week or so in Swaziland, I was filled. I was joyful and happy and truly felt the presence of the Lord. But it wasn’t long before reality caught up with me and I was smacked in the face with the realization that I’m not okay and not until today that I realized… I don’t have to be.
Ministry looks far different than I had expected. And here I was, two months ago, believing in my heart of hearts that I didn’t have expectations. Psh—I couldn’t have been more wrong. I did my senior project on Swaziland. Since first hearing about the race, I had always been drawn to the ethereal photos of the infamous valley at El Shaddai and my heart had already memorized the laughter of the children I watched in so many videos.
I arrived and found the view of the valley and its surrounding rolling hills to be far better than any photo could ever capture. The laughter of the kids here is sweeter than any video could hint at. The mountain was perfect. El Shaddai was better than I could have or did expect. Being with my whole squad for the entirety of the month has been refreshing and exciting.
But I was still—am still—disappointed.
For a while I thought it was God that I was disappointed in. Then it was myself, for not hearing and seeing God where He was so clearly present and for not bouncing back immediately after my dad died. Then it was the race, because I hadn’t expected to have such a hard month. Not right off the bat, anyway.And then I realized something key. I wasn’t having grace. I had no grace for God—from whom tragedy never strikes. No grace for myself, though I was doing the best I could. No grace for the race, because I had had preconceived notions and in real life, the World Race is nothing like I had imagined. It’s far better. It’s far more surprising and intimate and life-changing than I ever could have gathered from a blog post or a recap video.
But—like life—it has its mountains and it has its valleys.
Sometimes you’re sitting on top of a rock on top of a mountain overlooking a beautiful Kingdom watching the beat-red sun set, in awe of your life and your creator… and sometimes you’re in the valley you were just overlooking. Sitting alone at a place ambiguously known as The Lodge, listening to Beyoncé and picking the tomatoes out of your salad.
Both are beautiful; both have merit. God created the mountains high and in response to that, the valleys formed. They house the cattle that provide food, and their shadows make known the light. Life is often an uphill climb, but sometimes you get to enjoy 45 minutes of bumpy, dark conversation on the way down. That’s just it: you have to choose to enjoy it and joy will always find you. Even when you’re in the valley.
