It's basically a week of tears… tears, tears, tears, rice, carrying chairs, and some major revelations. It's intense in tents (sorry, I had to!).
I flew to Georgia with a lot of fear. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I didn't have anybody that I trusted to tell me, "Hey, you're going to be ok!" At 30 000 feet I sensed that something big was waiting for me on the ground.
I have to tell you that the first half of the week dragged on. I was constantly anxious, awaiting the next set of instructions, wishing someone would sneak me an itinerary, maybe a Snickers bar. And then on Monday night I decided that The World Race was not for me. I was not qualified to participate. It was a worship service complete with glow sticks. Glow sticks flying in the air around me, like a Coldplay music video. And there I was in the centre of the room bawling my eyes out. Everyone else seemed to have been touched, elevated, released, and I felt absolutely nothing. I grasped the glow sticks in my hand meekly and held on to a few words. "You are still good. You are still good. You are still good."
I felt entirely inadequate, and perhaps maybe not even much of a Christian, but I knew that God was still good, His plan still perfect, and His ways still mysterious to me.
And that was the beginning of the surrender. Only the beginning I soon learned, because God keeps calling us to surrender to Him. Whether it be the making of teams, or the sacrifice of daily hygiene, or the comfort of our own bed, God kept calling me from my idea of what I thought this should be to His greater, stranger idea. I had to let the dream of what I thought the Race was die. I had to abandon my preferences and allow Him to do a great and wonderful work in me, beyond what I could have comprehended.
So training camp is precisely fitting of its name. I thought things would be smooth sailing until we at least crossed some international borders, but no, before the Race has even begun I've grappled with my selfish desires which were pleading for an adventure on my terms. And God has answered, saying, "No. Because that is not good enough in comparison with what I have prepared for you."
Yes, I ate some unfortunate things. Yes, we slept in some precarious places. But this journey is so much more spiritual than physical. We're traveling so much farther than 11 countries. The Race is about running towards God at full speed, throwing off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. So, it's no surprise that training camp is much more of a spiritual workout than a physical one.
I'm committed to spending the next year trying to get to know the Holy Spirit like never before. I'm so intrigued by Him, but I'm also intimidated by Him, like that older, mysterious, slightly dangerous guy at the party. But hey, I'm just glad I got the invite.
