If you are thinking about going on the World Race, I need you to know that it is not this glamorous thing that Instagram and Facebook are prone to make it look. Don’t get me wrong, there are moments out here that are incredible, once in a lifetime opportunities. Crazy, thrilling adventures you never thought you’d get the opportunity to participate in. Moments where you expect God to show up and then He does, exactly the way you expected Him to.
In these moments, you will often hear Racers saying “Wow, guys, we really are on the World Race.” We feel a sense of awe and thankfulness. We profess that there is no where else we want to be. And I think that sometimes we, as Racers, even get caught up in the idea of the World Race being this epic, adventurous thing.
But let me tell you right now, for every really awesome, Instagram-worthy moment that a Racer has, there are a hundred moments that can’t be blogged about and should never be put on social media.
Moments where squadmates are getting sick in a slum squatty potty, moments where you are stuck at the border of a new country for half a day after a 15 hour bus ride, moments where you haven’t showered in a week and, when you finally decide it’s time to face the cold, bucket shower, there’s no water, moments where the streets are covered in cow poop and inevitably you find you shoes or sometimes your feet covered too. Moments when you are holding a orphaned child and you wonder, “dear child, will you ever know how infinitely you are loved and wanted?” . Moments when your prostitute friends hate their job but continue to choose it anyway, despite being offered freedom. Moments when you look into the eyes of the poorest of the poor, and you tell them, “you will make it through this” but you wonder if they will. Moments where God shows up in ways you didn’t want Him to or didn’t expect. Moments that are messy and moments that are incredibly hard. These are the moments that, more often than not, make up this thing called the World Race, but in the moment you will very rarely hear someone saying “Wow, guys, we really are on the World Race”. We are not in awe. We are frustrated. We are hurting. These moments are not what we signed up for. We are never quite ready for these messy moments, no matter how “flexible” we are.
This, my friends, is where Christmas has found me this year.
In Laos, of all places.
And if you are thinking that Christmastime on the Race is easy, it’s not. It is getting increasingly harder as Christmas approaches.
I miss my family and my friends. I miss my church. I miss holiday traditions and holiday food. I miss exchanging gifts. I miss snow. I miss Christmas lights and trees. I miss cuddling up under a blanket, next to the fireplace, and watching Christmas movies. I miss my big, comfortable bed. I miss alone time and driving my own car and hot showers.
Let me paint you a little bit of a picture of what Christmas looks like this year for our team:
Laos is an incredibly impoverished country so everything is dirty, messy, or falling apart all the time. My team and I are all sharing one room, so you can imagine it’s pretty cramped. It’s super hot here, and AC isn’t really a thing, so it still hard to wrap my head around that it’s Christmastime since its not cold at all. We’ve done our best to make it festive here, but the truth is we are in a closed country on Christmas, meaning Christmas celebrations don’t happen easily.
This morning I was reading the Christmas story in Luke, and I began to understand that maybe it was for moments like these that Christmas happened.
I mean, Jesus could have been born anywhere, at anytime.
But instead He chose to come to a poor carpenter and his wife, in a stable, surrounded by animals, laid in a manger.
Just picture this for a second with me:
Joseph and Mary are just trying to pay their taxes and get home.
Mary goes into labor. Wow, worst timing ever.
Imagine being Mary and unexpectedly having all your birthing plans fly out the window and having to frantically search for somewhere to birth your first born child.
The only vacancy they find, for the night, is a little, tiny stable that is full of animals. Imagine the stench of animals and manure. Imagine the heat of night, with no AC or fans. Imagine that this heat makes the stench ten times more potent. Imagine how crowded in must be in the tiny stable shared with the livestock. Imagine the mess of birthing a child in a barn, without even a comfortable bed or a crib, much less modern day medicine or medical equipment.
And into all of this, Jesus entered the world.
Behold, the Savior is born.
And, get this, God CHOSE for His Son to come into the world this way.
He chose to enter into the world in the most unexpected way possible, into the messiest of places, in the most uncomfortable way.
Maybe this is what Christmas is all about. God choosing to enter into our lives, the messiest and most broken of people, and working in the most unexpected of ways to make us His children.
So on the night before Christmas Eve, this girl from America, who never expected to find herself in Laos, is going to remember the true meaning of Christmas and stop mourning the loss of comforts from home and time away from family and start living in true Christmas spirit. I’m choosing to embrace the uncomfortableness of living in a third world country and know that I’m not entitled comforts just because it’s Christmastime. I’m choosing to be okay with God showing up, even when I’m not always ready for Him. I’m choosing to set aside Christmas traditions and festivities and be thankful for this Christmas and all that I have blessed with, even when it doesn’t look like what I want it to. I’m choosing to be in awe of all that God has done. I’m choosing these things because Papa still chooses me, even when I’m messy and broken and not ever ready. He chose to enter into the world so He can choose us again and again. And that, my friends, is what Christmas is all about.
Merry Christmas, everyone!!
