This scene from LOST (my favorite show) shows Ben finally meeting the one he’s worked for his whole life. He’s obeyed Jacob and worked faithfully for him, but has never met him. Jacob, being a kind of God figure who never ages and appears into peoples lives during a tragic moment to direct them onto their next path, has strict rules for those who comes to visit him on the island and only a few have actually seen him.
Ben’s question, “What about me?” resonated with me. I’ve asked that question to God many times in different ways. Each one of us has this innate need within us to be known, recognized, to be identified by our talents and abilities. We want to be heard. We want our voices to be heard.
On this race, I’ve been surrounded by a new community. A bigger community of 50 squad mates that I see once a month and sometimes had the opportunity to join with in ministry, and the smaller community of 6 I’ve traveled with, lived with, ate with, cried and laughed with, and worked alongside of. Both, a new community of people I’ve had to get to know over 11 months. When my team formed, we became a “family” to each other for the race. Or should I say, God forged us into being family with each other. Not the one you choose, but the one chosen for you. They’ve been my brothers, my sisters, my new family, my tribe, for these months. Through the good and bad, we’d have to work out our differences because we’d be together for while. When surrounded by new people, there’s something inside us that wants to be known. We’ll do things to stand out, or we’ll wait for others to notice us. We soon become identified by the things we do, how we act, our behavior, our personality, and what we say.
Often times, I’ve felt that even after 11 months, there are many aspects of myself that people haven’t seen or will never know. I haven’t fulfilled the roles I thought I would out here. I’m not known the way I thought I’d be known. Then I have those moments where my brain goes into this phsyco-analysis mode, wondering if the race has altered my personality and mellowed me out or maybe I was always like this and never realized it. My thoughts go into a tizzy, and short of feeling like I’m in crazy town, I stop thinking about it all and go back to smacking the mosquitos that are landing on my legs.
You get to a point on the race, and in life when you become disillusioned with self. Sometimes you don’t even know who you are anymore, or you question aspects of your personality that you used to be confident in. I’ve found myself in this state often on the race. Maybe its due to all the extra time I’ve had to think about things.
I look back on this past year and wished I was a better servant, a better leader. I wished I loved my team more, or was a better discipler and spiritual guide to those God entrusted to me. I wished I served more selflessly or gave more generously. I wished I was a better storyteller or was funnier. I wished I was even more committed to pushing my teammates to greatness. I thought I was going to play so many roles on the race, but haven’t.
Instead, this past year, I’ve often felt unknown, unidentified, misinterpreted and unheard. A follower.
When I talk to God, I tell him that I feel like I’ve failed by not fulfilling the roles I thought I would, and then I hear this question reverberating in my mind… “What about you?”
And all of a sudden, with those three words, he pulls me out of my mind for a moment and I realize once again – oh yeah, this isn’t about me. It was never about me.
Funny how easy I forget this.
I left my home to travel around the world because I wanted Jesus to be known. But I’ve seen that I’ve wanted to be known too. Just as much.
Then God gently asks me, “Is it ok that you’re not known?” “What if you’re not remembered, are you ok with that?” “If you gave and gave and people were loved and brought closer to me, but didn’t remember you – can you be ok with that?”
Of course my answer is yes. Then I think back to all those prayers I’ve prayed over the years – like a movie reel in my mind, All those times I told him ‘I would decrease so he would increase.’ You know we’ve all prayed that at least once in our lives. Times I prayed that people wouldn’t see me, but Christ in me.
Then he opens my eyes to show me that he’s given me one small opportunity to do it and here I am wondering why this wasn’t my time to shine.
A year ago, I envisioned myself walking away from the race with all sorts of warm fuzzies. Thinking I’d find new ministry and career opportunities that I thought my time on the race would create. I thought that God would finally reveal to me how I’m to use my passions and abilities for him. I thought I would get so close to God, that I would know his voice even more, that I would love him deeper. I heard so many stories of miracles that had taken place on previous races. I hoped that I would also get to see a miracle – that I’d get to pray over someone and see them healed before my eyes. I had heard of people getting raised from the dead in Africa, legs getting healed before their very eyes in India. I heard numerous stories of people, led by the Spirit, who were gathered for worship, fervently praying, and gold dust fell from their hands or people were covered in gold dust. I had never heard of this before, but I told God, I’m ready to go there. I’m ready for some gold dust! I don’t want to miss out on any more of you because me.
If I’ve learned anything, its been focused on being more disciplined in listening to the Lord this year and acting on what I hear. Even if it doesn’t make sense or makes me feel extremely uncomfortable, I do it in faith, believing God. I’ve prayed for hundreds of people on the race, around the world, to be healed. I prayed and laid hands on a guy in the Philippines who had Diabetes for 15 years and couldn’t walk anymore. We visited him many times and had all the faith in the world that God could make him walk again. He was a believer and I thought, “what a great influence he could be in his impoverished squatter community of this life restored because of God.” We prayed for him with bold mighty prayers. We even asked him to stand up. I mean, the guy had atrophy in his legs. He was used to crawling on his knees and only using his arms to move his body and we were praying he would stand up. He even tried. He mustered all the strength he could to pull himself up and stand. But couldn’t. We’d go back days later and do the same thing. And the results were the same.
In Uganda, I prayed for Grandma Joy in a hut during our hut-to-hut visits. She was from a Muslim family, but I preached the Gospel anyway and shared stories of Abraham, Moses and other prophets they were familiar with. We were caught in a rainstorm, so I hung out with this family, kids and Grandma Joy until the rain stopped. Grandma Joy was blind, so I asked her if she believed God could heal her and restore her sight. She did. So I layed hands on her blind, cataract eyes, and boldly prayed and believed God would restore her sight and heal her. When I left the hut after the rain stopped, she didn’t watch me leave.
Back home in the U.S., my best friend died, and my friends have lost babies due to illness. I never saw the miracles I thought I’d see. My prayers didn’t heal anyone. My faith didn’t change someone before my eyes.
And in the midst of all these thoughts… I hear a gentle whisper again, “What about you?”
I didn’t see the miracles, but I still believe God. Maybe it wasn’t about the miracle, or wasn’t about me seeing the miracle, but it was all about my faith in God who can do the impossible.
I may not have seen a full-on miracle take place before my eyes, but I did see dead hearts who didn’t know God, come to life. I saw eyes that didn’t see Jesus opened and sight restored to see him and acknowledge him. I saw people filled with hope and courage once again because of our prayers and our faith. I’ve seen people have joy in the midst of pain. I’ve seen people believe in the midst of hopeless situations. All of which are still miracles.
