One of the absolute best things in the world is to go star gazing. There is nothing quite like the dark sky scattered with brilliant lights. A cool breeze blowing across your face as you stare into what seems like eternity. 2 years ago, I went star gazing under a wind turbine in the middle of the Iowa cornfields. It was stargazing with the added beauty of a towering white needle stretching into the sky. The turbine reached upward to the stars as if it was trying to touch the very heavens. On top, a light slowly flashed conversing with the stars, sharing in their twinkling. The breeze swept across the night guiding the gargantuan blades in a continual dance as they swept around the sky in never ending circuits. With each pass, the blades would push air downward through my hair and mark their presence with a whoosh. Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh. Methodical and rhythmic as they were the only sound to break the stillness of the night. The stars gleam in the background. A smile slowly stretches across my face. These are nights I cherish.
But before I reached this magnificent moment, I learned a small but valuable lesson. The greatest moments don’t always come without discomfort. 30 minutes before I was sitting under the wind turbine, I pulled up to the gravel road in my car. I parked, pulled the e-brake, and flipped off the lights. My shoes were in the back seat at the time and I opted to walk barefoot to the base of the windmill. Now, the gravel wasn’t smooth small pebbles. Each rock was unique, jutting out in sharp angles. With each step, I felt pain run under my feet as I slowly, step by step started to make my way towards the base of the white tower. I stopped multiple times. The thought came to mind that this is so much like the walk of life. At the time, I was struggling through some rough events and God kept reminding me to set my eyes on the goal and continue on one step at a time even if it hurt. Even through pain, continue forward. It was worth it as I lay under the stars gazing into the heavens. I stayed in that spot for hours and I’m sure I could have stayed all night. That is the beauty and serenity of a night under the stars.
Let’s jump ahead now to training camp, 2 years later. One of the scenarios we went through was a “mock” market place. The leadership teams set up different tables with a variety of food and fruit to buy. There were cars driving through the center honking loudly, a money exchange booth, and various types of people walking all throughout the market for us to interact with! The heat and sweat was real, the crowded cramped feeling of having many people pressing in from all sides was real. And the food was real (thank the Lord). But, I have a hard time pretending, especially when it comes to these types of scenarios. But what stuck so firmly in my mind was seeing the hungry, the impoverished, and homeless walking through the market asking for food. I just brushed it all off and stood in the corner. I really wasn’t in to going and pretend praying over people or pretend giving away food at the moment. I was hot, tired, and ready for whatever was next. But as I looked out on the market I remember praying “Lord, I truly do want to know what their feeling, I want to know what it feels like when I turn my back on them and don’t care. I want to be able to really truly love them! What’s the cost of my apathy?”
Later on that day we had some free time. I opted for throwing a Frisbee with Tamara and Elaine. It was great fun! While running around, I slipped my shoes off and ran barefoot across the hot Georgia gravel, leaping to and fro to catch and throw the disc. In a matter of a few short minutes, I felt a hot burn under both my feet. I thought I had tough feet, but I think the heat got to me. Two large excruciating blisters had formed on the bottom of both feet. They rested right at the front. The very place where you place all your weight when walking. Let me tell you they hurt! For the next couple days, I could hardly walk! I really don’t think I’ve ever had such a hard time taking steps in my life. With every single step I did everything in my power not to let the blisters feel any pressure else a fiery current would shoot up my leg from the soles of my feet. I put my mind fully to the task of tuning out the world and finding the best and often only path to move forward, skillfully balancing on the sides of my feet.
Of course, I love all of life’s little metaphors and am constantly looking for creations little learning lessons. So, at the time, I’m thinking this is awesome. My team is amazing. Tamara cared for me and helped bandage up the blisters. Eli literally carried me on his back so I didn’t have to walk to the bathroom. My world race fam carried my chairs, my backpack, and even slowed down to walk with me.
But nothing hit me quite as hard as when I was walking back to the campsite alone. On my way, I had to stop and stand still multiple times. It hurt too much at the moment to force myself forward. Each step hurt a little more. I crept forward slowly making my way along. In one of the moments where I was standing still, a memory rushed into my mind… 2 years ago, walking on rocks to go stargazing under the wind turbine. God didn’t really have to say anything because in that moment I saw and felt the weight of what I was just starting to understand, but words came anyway: “This is your pain, your walk (walking on rocks to the windmill). This is their pain.” They can’t even walk, every step hurts, every moment is a constant struggle. This is the unreached, the homeless, the hungry, the orphan, the widow. Here I am so focused on the pain of my privileged walk, that I turn my back to the world.
Apathy.
“Yeah, I know you probably hurt, but I have these rocks I need to deal with right now.” Meanwhile, there are people all over the world who have blistering sores that keep them from even being able to take a single step.
I have a wonderful Christian family. I’ve grown up with God as my Father my whole life. I have a warm bed, a home, fresh clothes, a warm shower, a laptop, a phone, air conditioning, friends who care for me, people who invest in me, enough food for me to pick and choose my meals, and coffee to jump-start my system when I feel tired. Yet I complain about small stones in my life and put so much energy and focus into taking care of these little worries.
There’s a world out there that just needs someone to care.
Someone to not be focused on their own walk to overlook another’s pain.
This next year I need to choose to engage, choose to love, choose to be a part of others lives in order to love and be loved. I can’t overlook them but need to see them with the eyes of Christ. He came to heal, to open eyes, and to love us to his very death! Oh, that I would walk the same walk and bring His healing, hope, and love to others. That they too might be lifted and join the family of God, that they too might go out and bless the nations, that they too might sing praises to our King.
Simply put, I need to get over myself, die to myself, and begin to see others, to love others, and to reach outside my own little world to show love to those around me. Father teach me Love.
I’m praying that we would all take this to heart! How can you step a little beyond your comfort into discomfort to reach those who live with no comfort? There are those around us who need us to take notice. Don’t be apathetic.
Choose to see those in your community who need your time.
Even if it’s simply stopping to smile. Or maybe it’s taking the extra clothes in your house down to the homeless shelter. Or maybe its choosing to take one day a week or a month to serve a meal at the soup kitchen. I pray that God will show us all opportunities to show kindness and love to those who are hurting in our communities. Remember their pain on the days of your discomfort. And in the end, may we ALL know the joy of gazing into the heavens, Joy in our hearts, as we sing endless praise to our Healer, to our King. Jesus.
