PSA:
Coming back from the field is hard. It’s messy. It doesn’t always look pretty. My intention in this is not to lay blame or to accuse, but just to give a glimpse into what goes on in the mind of someone who returns to America after a lengthy time away. Please don’t take offense.
Despite how it may seem, I am okay. The Lord has me. What you read below is how he has me. This is how it happens, day in and day out. I fall apart (usually only privately), and he puts me back together.
I hope it’s encouraging, and that you can (in some way) relate.
**Every entry you read below (with only one exception) is an exact transcript of things written in my journal on each of the days listed. Purple indicates a quote I jotted down. Teal indicates the voice of God—what I believe He spoke to me in response to my thoughts.
Timeline: 
Saturday, March 14
(12:38am)
4 days since my last entry, and the world has gone to hell in a hand basket. COVID-19. Yikes is right.
I want to just run away. I want to completely ignore it or pretend it’s not there.
I want to escape.
But there’s nowhere in the world that has escape right now.
Can we forget about all this and just go back to the normal stuff? Can we just go back to where you and I are on this Race together?
We never left that place, Sarah. And we won’t ever leave it, even if you come home.
I don’t want to come home. I’m not ready for what that would mean. But I almost feel that we will. That you’re preparing me for exactly that eventuality. I feel that in my spirit: we’re going to go home, and soon.
And I’m relieved.
It would be so nice to be home and to stop traveling. It would be wonderful not to have to worry about all the things I would normally have to worry about. It would be sad to finish early. There are countries I would not be able to mark off my list as places I’ve been.
I wouldn’t have to worry about team changes or learning a new language, or doing any of that. I wouldn’t have to worry about feedback or assigned “work”.
I would, however, have to deal with everything back home.
Tuesday, March 17
About 4 hours after I wrote that we’d go home, we got an email that we were going. I’m on the plane now. If everything goes to plan (which, let’s be honest, it probably won’t with Corona), I’ll be in San Diego in three days.
I’m upset. Not that I have to go back, but that I have to go back without warning. And that I have to be there so long.
It makes sense what you are feeling. It’s okay to be scared. I will be with you, and you haven’t lost anyone on your squad. You don’t know what will happen.
I know I was tired, but I would have kept going. I would have.
I know, love. I know you would have. All of you would have. It’s not a matter of grit or determination or commitment. It’s a matter of panic. It’s a matter of need. I put my people where they’re most needed. Don’t you think that if I wanted to, I could reverse this? I could. But this is the birth pangs—symptoms of the soul of the world dying. And I will put my people where they need to be.
8 months was the perfect length.
Thursday, March 19
So… I’m back in San Diego, 3.5 months early. It feels like the whole world has gone insane. And at the same time, everything feels fine. Maybe I’ve just been going so hard for so long that I can’t even feel it anymore.
It was all ripped from me. Faster than I could blink it was all over and everyone was gone.
Is this feeling peace? Or is it numbness?
Sarah, this process is going to be longer than normal. Because there’s the quarantine, but then there’s also culture shock. You’re going to realize that people can’t exactly see what you see or how you’ve changed.
I’m scared of falling back into America, but also scared of judging them. I’m scared of the pain I’ll feel. The sadness and hopelessness.
That feeling of hopelessness is what sin causes. It’s death. It always causes death. That hopelessness is what I came to save the world from. It’s the feeling of a dying soul. A soul that’s not living from life.
There are dead souls all around us. All around you. You were one of them! The calling is to wake up! To seek healing! Don’t let your soul continue to die!
I’m glad to be home. I was so tired, physically. My body was ready to be done. But once I recover, I’ll be itching to get out of here. To be back out there.
Friday, March 20
I’m angry.
I’m angry that the Race ended early.
Because I felt like there was so much growing. So much hope. If people are going to change they’re going to do it out there. I’m going to do it out there.
But now I won’t see things or grow through things. You were growing me so much and you were showing me the stuff about who I am and what I want. I feel robbed of that in a way, because I want to grow through those things. I don’t want to be stuck.
I feel pure—like I’ve been purified coming on this Race, but now I’m stepping back into this tainted world, and I’m terrified its going to rub off on me. It’s going to stain me.
All of this, of course, is lies.
You are just as able to heal here as You are there. You will use this quarantine in ways I can’t expect. You haven’t lost any power just because I’ve changed places. And if you can penetrate Iran to save people, you can also penetrate America.
But the feelings are still there.
What are you really afraid of?
That I’m not any different. That nothing’s changed. That I’ll go back to the same old, same old. The same pain. Same inability to slow down. Same patterns of behavior. Same cycles.
I want to be different.
Saturday, March 21
There are three times as many cases of COVID in San Diego county as there are in the entire country of Azerbaijan.
So remind me why we came home again?
——— Later ———
I don’t like falling apart and having to justify the falling apart because people are assuming the worst, or because they want to correct my statements. It feels like there’s something trying to squeeze me into shape. Trying to silence me.
This is where it comes from—the constant feeling of having to do and go. It’s all around you, here. That push to curb your emotions. To stifle. To make it look good or have the right attitude.
Can’t I just have the wrong attitude for once and it be okay?
The problem is the culture shock and the missing people. The reason you need comfort (or even what you need) is for someone to see and hear and say, “you’re not crazy” or “you’re not wrong”.
So, “you’re not crazy”, and “you’re not wrong.” You have been given a window into this world that’s different. And you’re getting used to a new pair of glasses.
Sunday, March 22
I don’t want to let this set in, but when the TV is always on and my parents are freaking out and the news stations are all saying be afraid, be afraid, be afraid, it’s hard not to be consumed by anxiety or worry about every handle and every thing we touch.
Fear gets to everyone.
But it’s irrational. Because we buy all the toilet paper, but then go outside and stand near each other!
Monday, March 23
I WAS SO NOT READY TO BE QUARANTINED WITH MY FAMILY.
Tuesday, March 24
Reading Laura Leigh’s blog today, it hit me, explicitly: The Race is over. I’m going… no, I AM home.
I had all these great plans for when I got back. I was going to have a big “tell all” dinner and invite all my supporters and friends and make them eat with their hands like I did all year…
Whelp. Guess that’s not happening.
You came back at the perfect time, Sarah. I have purpose in this.
I feel like I have to be productive here. That’s what’s expected of me. Productive to help. Productive to look for a spouse. And all of that in addition to being productive in general. What work am I doing?
Nothing.
I can’t even go outside and live the “Race-style” life because I’m trapped inside here.
You felt just as much pressure to be productive overseas. No guilt, Sarah. That voice of guilt isn’t of me. It’s religion.
I guess I’m sort of mourning the blog, too. Mourning the platform to keep publishing my thoughts. Who cares now that I’m not doing some crazy travel thing? I’m bummed that I won’t have that outlet or platform from which to encourage people.
Wednesday, March 25
Coming home early feels like being asked to navigate through a field that is actually a mine field, then being surprised when a bomb goes off. And doing all of that blindfolded. They didn’t even have time to warn us there’s mines out there, or mention where they might be.
Be aware of the war. The war for your affections. The war for your response. The war for your heart. The war for your purpose. For your emotions. For your anchored peace.
I don’t feel very at peace right now. I feel all over the place—just as ready to fly apart as to laugh, waiting for the next punch to catch me unawares.
Waterfalls only exist because water runs over a cliff. Because of the hydrostatic connections, one molecule falls over and then the next, until all the water falls over the cliff and gravity drags all of it down. But there are also rocks in the waterfall. A well-placed rock can alter the flow.
Are you going to be part of the problem—just one more molecule going over a cliff—or will you be part of the solution—the rock that directs the flow, and shapes it, even?
Thursday, March 26
It’s around 8 am when Mom knocks on my door.
I look up from where I’m sitting on the floor, preparing for a 10am virtual meeting.
“Dad and I are going to Costco,” she says. “Do you want to come?”
“Sure, what time?” I say. Then I start thinking. We don’t need food; the fridge is full.
“Why are you going?”
“To get toilet paper,” she says. “We’re just going to check and see if they have it.”
I sigh internally. I know she’s worried that we’ll run out and not have enough, but I really don’t think it’s necessary. Besides, other people might need it more than us. “Do we really need it?” I say. “How many rolls do we have?”
She pauses. “I… actually don’t know. Let me check.”
A few minutes later, she returns.
“We have 38 rolls. So I guess we’re fine. We won’t go to Costco.”
——— Later ———
I feel like the whole world is telling me to GO GO GO GO GO GO GO GO, but I’m so incredibly tired.
I feel guilty for not going on a run. For not getting outside. For not wanting to move. For not being willing to do the things other people enjoy like hiking or walking or climbing. For not getting into water, even though I love it.
I feel guilty for always wanting to eat. For wanting good food. For buying out instead of eating in. For adding things to a meal. For just wanting more and more and more.
But this isn’t what I’m like. Away from America there isn’t this gluttonous need to keep eating. There isn’t this incessant guilt and the pervasive, ever-illusive sense that I’m just not doing enough. There isn’t the Starbucks I just need to visit, or the coffee I just need to have, or the food I just have to try. I could exist on a lot less when I wasn’t here.
How do I live in a world with so much pressure? It’s like there’s a hand on my back pushing me down. Making me feel guilty. Berating me all. the. time. I don’t have a job. I don’t have any responsibility. And no one would fault me for that, but suddenly I fault myself for it. I feel less-than because I’m not contributing.
I didn’t make people productive, Sarah. Thats not the reason I created them. Your culture screams the gospel of productivity. To not be productive is the greatest crime. The American Dream is to go and build—but you’ve forgotten why. You’ve forgotten the joy of building and creating. You’ve forgotten the pleasure of working. Instead, it’s become a way to stave off the loneliness of your soul. When you stopped doing it for me, but more importantly, WITH me, you stopped finding joy.
Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all to the glory of God.
Even if you lay in a hammock, do it for my glory. If all you do is eat and rest all day but you do it for my glory, that will be enough. No guilt.
Friday, March 27
Today we were supposed to do our final debrief thing but we ended up not doing that. I didn’t really feel right about it anyway. In a way that feels more like saying goodbye than our actual goodbye.
You’re afraid that saying goodbye officially will give people permission to not reach out to you anymore.
Exactly. I’m afraid that what we built here wasn’t strong enough. Not strong enough to last beyond the Race.
It’s interesting, though. The transition’s been hard, but far from hopeless. Perhaps because I’ve been through enough of these, now, but I don’t feel like there’s ever been a moment that I’ve felt that kind of hopeless despair. Sad, sure. Upset and angry? Definitely.
But not hopeless.
I suppose that’s the difference between losing something in God’s kingdom versus not. When you lose something in God’s kingdom, you know it can always be recovered, and it wasn’t wasted. So when I think about all the ways my squad-mates or I could have grown, I also think about all the ways you will grow us. When I think about the ways we could have impacted Kazakhstan or Kyrgyzstan or Mongolia, I also think about how you’ll use us to impact America and how you’ll use us to change things here or even comfort others here. When I think about friendships…
… you know that I will bring new friendships and new relationships.
Saturday, March 28
My head feels so loud. Like there are so many other voices clamoring to be heard. It feels like Indian streets in my head.
I feel like I’m under near-constant spiritual attack. I feel tired because my spirit is always fighting, even when I’m asleep. Fighting these voices. Fighting the lies.
Sunday, March 29
“Manna was only given for the day. Stop living on yesterday’s manna!” ~Ryan Paulson
——— Later ———
Today I’m struggling with why I decided to go to Germany. San Diego is so beautiful and I love living here.
Through talking to you, I realized that I felt that way because to acknowledge Germany, in my mind, was to acknowledge that I might be single for another two years. Because I don’t have a lot of faith that I’ll go out and meet people there and find someone I want to marry.
But then I realized there are spiritual voices here like doubt. And suddenly, one layer was gone. Because up until then, I had been questioning whether I had even listened to you when making the decision, even though I know I did.
I got to the conclusion of submission. If you don’t want me to go, stop the process, Lord. Prevent me from going. Otherwise, I’m headed to Germany.
And that kind of open-handed thing is what I can now relax into. So I’ll keep moving and be okay with whatever option.
For a while there, I was convinced that I should pull out of Germany because the idea of leaving was so awful.
Monday, March 30
Sarah, the anxiety came because you have so many emotions. So talk to me.
Holy Spirit, shield my mind from the devil’s voice. YOU are my God. YOU give me peace. I run to YOU. Shield me from voices of fear and doubt and guilt.
I feel very lost, like I don’t know what I’m doing.
At the same time, I feel like I do, in a strange way. Everyone’s talking about how hard this time is, and I’ve found it hard, yes, but I’ve also been okay. I know how to go to you with my emotions and not sink into despair. You’ve taught me how to weather difficult things. You’ve freed me of demonic oppression like control and fear and self-hatred and guilt. This season is hard, yes, but I’m not doubting our ability to walk through it well, because of the habits you’ve taught me.
——— Later ———
I asked you to silence these voices! And now…
You still have emotions related to them, though.
I’m afraid I’ll get stuck. I feel paralyzed by fear.
You have not been given a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but one of power, love, and self-discipline.
Tuesday, March 31
“To only expect God to provide in one way is to underestimate his creativity.” ~Shelby Lieurance
A friend grabbed my hand to pray, and I just couldn’t handle the touch because it was like her trying to shove my emotions into a box. To stop the emotion because emotion is bad, and it will make me feel better to get rid of negative emotions. That prayer was… awful. I just felt trapped.
She was trying to help, but all I wanted to do was be free to fall apart. I started to feel guilty for not falling apart earlier, so it wouldn’t have inconvenienced her. I’d known all morning that I needed to sit down and pray and cry but I didn’t. Who would choose to face those emotions? So I felt bad because now I’d reached the breaking point and it was an inconvenience.
I wanted to scream: I’m sorry I can’t fall apart on your schedule!
But that’s not allowed here. Negative emotions aren’t allowed here. Pain is bad. Pain must be mitigated or solved. And those in pain who can’t escape it are either shoved into boxes and straight-jackets or put aside entirely.
Wednesday, April 1
It’s gotten thick and heavy now. I feel the pressure of it all; the thickness. I feel the attack, like things pulling at me. Hours ago when I prayed, I could feel the desperation. The exhaustion of my soul from fighting.
When I lived here before, I was fighting all the time.
I must be crazy. I can’t go back to this. I can’t go back to teaching and a life where I’m lesson planning even when I’m not at work; where the work never ends.
I run to the Father / I fall into grace / I’m done with the hiding / No reason to wait
My heart needs a surgeon / my soul needs a friend, / so I run to the father / again and again and again and again.
I feel completely powerless and helpless. Like I can’t stand under this. Breathless. Choked. Stifled. Harried. Beset. Like there are things that have their fingers in my brain all the time, stirring my emotions until they rear against me like dragons.
I just want to sleep, but here I am lying awake, wishing I could sleep. It feels just like the race and the stress we were under all the time. I don’t want to go back to stress and hurry and always fighting.
You don’t have to. Sarah, what did you learn this year?
I learned that worship is it’s own kind of battle. Instead of attacking the present darkness, instead, bring the light by worshipping.
So when you start to feel beset, don’t counterattack. Worship. Re-center on me.
Let me be hard pressed (by demonic forces) but not crushed, perplexed (without a plan of rescue) but not in despair, persecuted (by the world) but not abandoned, (May my flesh be) struck down but (my spirit) not destroyed.
It’s counterintuitive, but in those moments when you are hard pressed, you stand only by falling to your knees. And not in a plea for help, but in an acknowledgement of my goodness, presence, kingship, lordship, and power. By singing my praise you declare who really reigns over the situation.
As your heart turns back to me, you gain new eyes and new strength to stand despite the weight of the forces coming against you. You press reset on your perspective so that when your physical body climbs back to its feet, your inner man has also been renewed. You have eaten of my provision for the day and have gained my strength and my eyes with which to see. You gain my power for living through worship.
That is why I made you a worship leader and a discerner. So you know when to sing.
