I’ve been sitting on this post for a while. I wanted to write it in Asia, but decided against it. However, if I intend to share my experience on The World Race honestly, I know that I must share the whole experience. Before I embarked on the World Race, I had reservations about traveling the world because of my race. Nonetheless, I decided to go because God asked me to go, and He was fulfilling a desire I’ve had in my heart since I was a kid.
A day ago, I awoke in Budapest, Hungary, one of the most beautiful cities I’ve seen. I observed the paradox of experiencing such beauty in the world, and also understanding that some in the world fail to see that beauty in me.
Since I came on the race, I have walked with a greater awareness of my brown skin that I have before. I’m traveling the world because I love the world and the people in it, but sometimes the world doesn’t seem to love me. The climax that led to this blog was my experience at the Ukraine/Poland border when my peers’ passports were quickly stamped, and mine was held hostage to be assessed. The custom officer obviously found nothing, but this moment seem to be the cherry on top of all of the stares, looks, pointed fingers, and snickers behind my back.
“Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Wrong. Actually, the Bible says that life and death are in the power of the tongue so words can actually kill you.
My first encounter with prejudice was in Cambodia when one of the Cambodian women told me that my skin wasn’t beautiful, but I was beautiful on the inside. I wasn’t even sure how to respond, and thankful Holy Spirit gave me the words to say in love. It was also in Cambodia that I was asked if my hair had worms, and if I had lice. I dismissed the comments because I knew most people in that area had not seen a brown person. The stares and glares continued in Vietnam, and I didn’t know hurt had seeped in until I stood crying at the Indonesia airport because a customs officer was yelling at me for no reason.
Those moments can be frustrating, and they can feel like a personal attack. And at times, it’s hard to watch my Caucasian peers live completely unaware of the ease of their travel. There are times I’ve looked to heaven with tears and asked God why I’m reduced just because of my skin color? Why we live in world where some people assume I’m less than my white peer?
I love my brown skin. I love my hair. I love my brown eyes. I have absolutely no desire to be another race. There are times in this Race where I’ve had to look at myself in the mirror and remind myself what God says about me. To remember that there is nothing wrong with the way He made me, and there is a purpose. That every time I cross the border with a sinking feeling wondering if the people in the next country will like me, I’ll remember that God likes and loves me, and He has not called me to live by the opinions of men, but to rather reflect His glory.
In 1 Peter 4, he states that I shouldn’t be surprised in my sufferings, but rather rejoice that I have shared in the sufferings of Christ, so that when His glory is revealed, I may also rejoice and be glad.
In this world, I will experience trials, but Jesus has called me to love nonetheless. So, in the moments where somebody treats me poorly, my prayer is not to be offended, but to see and understand the brokenness in that person’s heart. To be filled with compassion, and see them the way the Lord sees His children.
God asked me to come on this Race. So, here I am. Not that men may like me, but that His name would be glorified.
Pray for me saints.
