Life on the Race isn’t all Instagram photos and adventure. Sarah Baker of third generation G Squad gives an inside glimpse of the reality of what it’s like to be on the field for 11 months.
I have French fries in my purse, I spilled change nearly all over the diner’s register, and my plastic bag at the grocery store ripped a hole the minute I picked it up, emptying its contents into my flailing arms. Also, I just got hit with inspiration to write a blog while reaching into my purse for my phone but discovered the fries instead.
Welcome to the World Race, folks.
The Race isn’t just traveling from country to country and meeting new people. While Instagram posts and even blogs can say otherwise, this life is hard. And the hardships don’t get much public press or pretty filters to make them look better than they really are.
Behind the picture of a beautiful landscape are blistered, dirty feet that probably won’t get truly clean until hitting American soil. What you don’t see in the photo of the cute smiling African face is how before that, three kids were throwing crayons at you and not listening to a single word you said. And between the sentences of updates about ministries, host families and team changes are unwritten feelings of doubt, tension with a teammate or annoyance of not getting a single minute of alone time. Because alone time on the Race typically means sticking in earbuds and turning around so at least most people are out of your vision.
There’s a whole other side to the Race than the airline miles and passport stamps. While the people I’ve met and the cultures I’ve lived in have definitely changed my life and don’t deserve any less credit than what they’ve been given, there’s an entirely different aspect of this adventure that doesn’t often get talked about: the Race community.
We just went through team changes for the first time. To the outsider, this just looks like serving with a new group of people. While this is true, it’s so much more than that. I spent the last four months pouring into a team of six people, who were really my only stability right now as we’ve traveled from country to country. We did ministry together every single day. We shared meals together, created moments together, called each other higher, and had hard conversations. We, with no exaggeration, did life together in every single moment, whether we were physically present (which was almost always the case) or heard about it later during team time.
I’m now on a team with five completely different people (all girls teams ROCK by the way) and the most stability I’ve known for the past four months is gone. I’m forced to start anew. I have to learn five new personalities; how I relate to each person, how to love that person, how to challenge them, and how to overcome differences. I have to share my story and fears and insecurities and bare my soul yet again. I have to say, “Yes” even when everything in me is screaming “NO.”
In life, it’s really, really easy to avoid conflict. If you don’t like someone, you just don’t talk to them. If you’re mad at a friend, you can go home and vent about it to someone else and when ready, go talk to her a few days later. Not so on the Race.
Personality clashes happen on the daily, as they would in normal life, but you’re forced to press deeper. Why am I annoyed with this person? Why do I struggle with trusting my team today? How come I feel so insecure about my identity or my talents?
One of my new teammates, Amanda, said it best: community brings out all the parts of a person, even the parts you so desperately try to hide and don’t want others to see.
Before the Race, I thought I knew myself pretty well. I felt like all the years of people pleasing and lack of self-confidence were behind me. Day one of the Race proved me very, very wrong. And since then, even five months later, it’s been a journey of exploration as I not only explore the world, but explore myself. As I search my heart, my deep, dark secrets and fears that I could so easily trick myself into thinking weren’t actually there. Secrets and fears that often my teammates see before I even do and, scarily, invite me to call out and press into.
It’s quite painful. Every day is painful. There are times when all I want to do is go for a run by myself or drive somewhere and blast the radio so I can sing at the top of my lungs, or be able to pick and choose the parts of myself I want others to see.
But I can’t.
When I signed up for the Race, I was not only signing up to travel the world for Jesus, but I was putting my heart on the line. Little did I know, I made a choice to be all in—not just holding beautiful children and sharing my testimony, but battling with Jesus and not really feeling like a missionary on most days and struggling to love these people that have become my family who are probably the most imperfect people but also make me realize I’m pretty imperfect, too.
And how above it all, we are in desperate need of Jesus and His grace.
If I had been able to see a glimpse of this life before I signed up, I probably would have stopped filling out the application. If I had known I would, on many occasions, feel like I was nineteen all over again with how much insecurity I carry and realization that I really don’t know myself as well as I thought, I would’ve looked for a different ministry opportunity that encouraged staying within the lines rather than coloring outside of them.
But thank God—seriously—that I didn’t know all of that. The refining process, the heart wrenching moments and seemingly life-ending-at-the-time conversations have proven to be worth it.
It’s like the shedding of a snake (I hate snakes, so I don’t know why I’m using this analogy). The process of discarding the old skin is really gross and ugly and (I assume) a bit painful. But the outcome is fresh skin that looks so much better and probably makes the feller feel like a completely new snake, capable of accomplishing goals and fulfilling dreams.
All this to say, the World Race has made me realize I’m more like a snake than I would care to admit; that life is messy and my kindergarten teacher was wrong and coloring outside the lines really is ok; and that I’m not above hoarding French fries in my purse. And how beautiful, raw and life-filled each of those three things are. Beware, America, you’re gonna get some crazy radicals returning home in May.
Does the reality of life on World Race excite you? Click here to find out how you can go on the World Race.
