It’s October, we are in our tenth month on the race, and I’m blown away by how far I’ve come, and how far me and my sweet sisters on this race have come. We’ve gone through so much together, seen so many unique and and wonderful things, experiencing so many cultures and languages, and eaten lots of crazy foods. More than that, we’ve experienced immense love, loss and thankfulness for what we have.
We’re in Thailand this month and we are teaching english for the Santisuk School, a wonderful ministry on the tenth floor of a tower in the business district of Bangkok, the capitol of this incredible country. (A country that could very quickly become my new favorite.) We’re living in a little one bedroom apartment ten minute’s walk down the street, and we pass about eight Starbucks and 7/11 stores each morning on our way to teach.
My team changed while I was in America, and now I live with five other girls from my squad, Ashley (Who was in my first team) Jordan, Kat, Kristen and Kayleigh. Our team name is the Great White Sharks, don’t ask me why, there isn’t a reason! If you scroll to the left of the screen, you can see their pictures!
In the last few weeks, I’ve been under some serious fire. I didn’t even realize it was spiritual warfare until my team leader, Kayleigh, mentioned dealing with it herself, and that’s when it clicked that, no, I wasn’t just being overly emotional. Darts were being thrown at me from every which direction, and I was overloaded with feelings of anxiety, insecurity, and the feeling like I’d never measure up to the expectations people had for me. I experienced what I can best describe as the feeling of “impending failure.” I’m not writing this for someone to convince me that these feelings aren’t accurate, because I already know they aren’t true. Let me explain.
Going home on the race was a hard decision. I wasn’t sure if it was the right decision. Going home alone was really tough, leaving a loud family of 54 people to sleeping alone in my childhood bedroom was lonely. I spent most days by myself. My family, though they are wonderful, was not expecting me home and was busy most days. I found myself craving my squad mates and wondering if I’d made the wrong decision in coming home. I began to feel like a failure and feeling that way impacted my mood and the way I looked at myself. I began to feel angsty and bitter, and started second guessing most of my decisions. It was a funk, unlike any I’ve ever experienced before. My relationship with Freddy was impacted by it, and more than that, my relationship with God was too. I began asking myself some scary questions, and doubting my answers. Did I make a difference? Did anything I did matter? Am I even impacting anyone? Is the race making a difference in this world? Are people really even seeing Jesus in me? What good can I really do? Am I even worth all this? Am I marriage material? What could Freddy really see in me? I think my heart is broken, I’m not sure it’s supposed to feel this way…
There was a day I got a call from my friend and squad mentor Stacy – she was out in Cambodia visiting my squad. As she told me about team changes, it hurt so much to not be with my squad. I cried with her about all the doubts and feelings and questions running through my brain, and as she prayed with me, I tried to get control of myself.
I’d let lies creep into my head and I let them spiral out of control. No, I’m not perfect. Am I marriage material? Who knows, but I know who I want to marry. Am I worth marrying? Jesus seems to make that clear when he declared me as holy, blameless and worthy. If I’m worthy enough to be the bride of christ I think that also clears me to be as worthy to Freddy, despite my flaws, crazy moments and imperfections. Can I measure up to be the wife Freddy deserves? Well, sometimes I will fail, but no one can ever measure up to imperfections, that’s why Jesus filled in the gaps for me! That’s the beauty of grace.
Am I making a difference? This question ate me up the moment I was home in America and surrounded by entitled fast-paced, dog-eat-dog Americans again. For a while there I forgo about the beautiful kids we fed and danced and played with in the overgrown farms of Colombia. I forgot about the kids we taught about Jesus. I forgot about Pastor Efran and his church that I got to lead worship at, and about the fifty or so people we brought in from the streets to teach english and get involved in his congregation. I forgot about Maria, our wonderful host in Peru who we stood with and supported while her city disappeared under floods and mud slides. I forgot about the difference my team made and about how impactful the truth about Jesus is. How could I let myself forget?
Am I safe?
Well, in America, and especially in my life, safety seems to be a given, something we as humans are entitled to and deserve, right up there next to the pursuit of happiness. Well, the crazy thing is, on the race, and really anywhere in life in general, safety is not guaranteed, and often times it’s not even on the menu. When I came on the race, I never expected to experience the things I have. I’ve learned that the reality is that this life is far from safe. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a fool. But, this life can be good, in fact, it can be great – because of who our king is. A lot of times on this race, I’ve been the opposite of safe. Many would say the race is everything but safe. But it’s still good, because of Jesus and because of the people we get to meet, impact and leave with truth.
All the quetions I was asking myself have answers that point back to Jesus. Sometimes I have to stop pointing questions at my own abilities and start pointing them back to Jesus. He’s the perfecter, he’s the author, and He’s the creator. He’s the only one with the answers, and the only one that brings eternal hope. Sometimes I get caught up in my own human-ness that I forget just how big of a God He is. It’s funny, though, because as soon as I take the focus off me and refocus on him, I’m reminded that it’s okay that I don’t measure up to the human standard, because Jesus already filled in the gaps for me.
Through my fears, my insecurities and my anxiousness, I will trust that he will take care of me, give me what I need, and teach me a lot while doing it. After all, the God I serve, the Lion of Judah, never claimed to be a tame lion. He’s wild, he’s drastic, he’s extreme. He shakes mountains and calms oceans. He is not tame, he is not safe, but he is so good. Something or someone really wants to get me down, and convince me that this race isn’t worth it, that’s warfare. But I am confident that this is the place I’m meant to be, safe or not.
