First, I want to say that this blog is extremely hard to write. I would love for you to think I have no fear with sharing my life, but this is actually one of those eerie leaps of faith that makes me feel like I’m stripping off my clothes, item by item, in front of a large crowd. It’s daunting to write these words and as a result, allow my shortcomings to stare back at me in black and white.
Shame says I’m weak. It says I’m not as okay as I want to be. I don’t want to listen to shame, though.
Despite my feelings of emotional nakedness, I know action is what matters most. So I’m inviting you into this path I’ve been walking, no matter how scary that is for me.
With that, I’ll say this: Anxiety is a real pest.
I’ve not ever thought of myself as an anxious person. I’m a thinker. I like to use logic and reason and everything that makes sense to shush the thoughts that say things will go horribly wrong as soon as they creep into my mind.
This wasn’t super difficult in America. My life was manageable. I didn’t have to use all the energy within me to trust God. I placed as much trust in him as was needed without much hesitation.
That was before I jumped right smack dab in the middle of the unknown that is the World Race. That unknown is my new normal. There’s quite literally no way around it.
Whether it’s not knowing who my new teammates will be, what ministry will look like, or where I’ll lay my head at night, the World Race is chock full of uncertainty.
I hate to admit this because I want to be this uber spiritual missionary who trusts God 100 percent, but the truth is that uncertainty is scary. It terrifies me in a subtle yet deteriorating way. I’ve allowed uncertainty to torment my thought life as the what ifs swirl through my mind day and night.
I have become anxious on the World Race. This low-grade, just-under-the-surface, controlling fear makes me feel stuck and ashamed and weak and wrong. It sits on my shoulders like a heavy boulder that I’m forced to carry around everywhere.
I want to shake the boulder off, but I can’t seem to let it go. Jesus is calling out to me with a simple request to trust him so he can set me free. He is able to do it, but there’s this thing he wants from me. He wants me to remember that he hasn’t failed me yet, and he is more than worthy of my full trust. I need not hold back.
It’s now up to me whether I give it to him. Actually, it’s always up to me. Every day I’m presented with this choice: trust that I’ll always be okay or sit stuck in fear.
Now I’m sure you’re wondering what all this has to do with tattoos.
At the end of month two, the squad spent a few days in Antigua, Guatemala for a Leadership Development Weekend.
Leadership Development Weekend, or LDW as we call it, is a time for individuals on the squad to lead and share and teach the rest of us something they want to give away.
This was as practical as the teachers giving tips on how to manage a classroom abroad and it was as abstract as practicing how to hear God’s voice more clearly.
During an afternoon session, the 25 of us squeezed into a room made for 10 and asked God to speak to us.
We split into small groups and waited for the Lord to tell us whatever he wanted about our squad mates.
To be clear, this isn’t us expecting to necessarily hear the audible voice of God. He speaks through His word, visions, dreams, and many other avenues. God is speaking to you and me all day long, but it’s probably rare for most of us to sit in his presence, quiet our minds, and just listen to our Dad.
I sat in a circle with two awesome women, Lizzy and Taylor. We took turns listening for what the Lord had to say about each other. When it came time to listen for me, Taylor shared a vision she got from God.
God showed her a picture of me sitting in a two person canoe in the middle of a lake. At the bow, a boy was seated in the boat with me. He was attempting to instigate, irritate, and aggravate me by rocking the boat all over the place. He was moving it to the point that it was nearly tipping over.
While this was going on, I was in the back of the boat enjoying the scenery. I was aware of the boy’s antics, but I was sure I would be okay. He didn’t faze me. I didn’t fear the prospect of tipping over because I set my attention on the truth that I would stay afloat.
Life on the Race is the same way. The Lord doesn’t want me to freak out about the pesty dude in my boat, or rather the questions and unforeseen circumstances of my life right now.
He wants me to enjoy this time with him. He wants me to focus on living this life with him.
God has been driving this home in my heart over the last couple of months. I’ll often find my mind off in some distant place and realize that I’ve lost reality, in a sense. I’m no longer present in the world because I’m stuck in the pattern of my own thoughts.
I don’t want to miss this day, week, or year. I don’t want to miss God. I think one of the reasons Jesus referred to himself as the “I am” is because we can only experience him in the present tense.
Fear of the future and regret of the past only hinder my connection with God right here and now.
So, I got this permanent little reminder that I will indeed be okay. What will be will be, and although it might hurt sometimes, I’m not left to fend for myself. Jesus is always there.
I invite you to celebrate this with me. Let’s celebrate that we will stay afloat through the big and little uncertainties, the hard days, the temptation to sink into fear because there’s real hope for us all.
