How The World Race Changed My Life

“How has the World Race changed your life?”

If you expected to read an epic story of how serving on the World Race changed the direction of someone’s life, this is not the story you are looking for. Click the little “x” in the top right of this tab and try a different World Race alumni. There are around thirty-five hundred people who have completed the World Race. The odds of finding a story of a dramatic life change because of the World Race are for sure in your favor (I could even point you in the direction of a couple of really good stories).

My answer to this question is not an epic or grandiose story, but it is a valuable, important, and on-going answer.

I cannot yet look back on my life and see the lasting, eternal legacy from my stepping out in faith to serve on the World Race. I am still a “baby” World Race alumnus, having returned to the United States around five short months ago. In these past five months, I have not stepped into another program with Adventures In Missions, whether squad-leading for new Racers, attending their Center for Global Action, launching on a Kingdom Journeys trip, or attending their leadership school in Spain. I have not moved to another country to help run a hostel through AIM. I have not returned back home and started a new ministry born out of the passions and desires that the Lord revealed to me while I was on the World Race. I have not launched a new blog or written a book. I work at the same job as when I left for the World Race. I still sleep in my childhood bedroom every night. I drive the same car and wear the same clothes as I did before I traveled around the world. There are days when it may appear that the only changes that have happened in my life as a result of the World Race are having passport pages that are more colorful and a social media collection of mementos from traveling around the globe. “But how do those things differentiate you from someone who has traveled the world but not done the World Race?” The World Race allows for God-ordained opportunities that you never could have dreamed of or created on your own.

Imagine that you are a farmer or a gardener who wants to plant new seeds into a field that you just bought. The field is in the best possible location and has enormous potential. The field has not been used to its full potential in the past and has some areas that have been taken over by weeds and rocks. It’s a bit uneven in some places. Before you are able to plant the seeds, you need to prepare the field.

You have an idea in your mind of what that field will look like in the future, and it is this plan that guides how you prepare the field. This plan determines which tools you will choose, which seeds and fertilizer you use, and the exact timing the seeds are placed into the ground. This plan determines how you will care for and tend to the seeds until they produce that which they are created to produce.

God is not distant or secretive in this grand plan that He has for the garden that He calls my heart. He has given me bits and pieces of how He wants my heart to look, how He wants my heart to love, and how He wants my heart to reflect His. “Over here, I’m growing this. I had to take this out over here to make room for this.” He is also giving me an option for some things—“I want to transform this, but it’s up to you to let me know when you are fully ready for it.” The World Race was a season of preparing, planting, tending, harvesting, and planting for my heart. Some seeds are unknown to me and will not be revealed until years down the road. I have been able to recognize some of the seeds by the fruit that they have started to bear already.

To everything there is a season.

We were in Zambia, the end of our fourth month, at our second debrief. One evening session started with worship and transitioned into an intense squad-wide time of prayer. We spoke truth over each other and prayed for deep things in each other’s lives. Andie started to pray for me, but before she spoke, she had an internal battle with the Lord. ”God, why did you tell me those words to pray for her? Am I really supposed to tell her that and pray for that? Everyone else is saying positive things and this doesn’t sound positive. Is this even Your voice? Do I tell her?” Andie decided to be brave and speak what was on her heart. “I don’t know why the Lord is telling me this to pray for you, but He told me to pray against loneliness in your heart.”

I did not have words for this part of my heart that I had grown familiar with and yet still loathed until Andie called it out during prayer. Fighting against loneliness had been a hidden, extensive, and prolonged battle for my heart. Struggling to believe that you are “enough” for years on end allows loneliness to enter into your heart when you are unaware. Loneliness disguised itself in various seasons of my life, rendering me unaware of the damage it did to my heart.

Andie and I took turns praying against the loneliness that had been in my heart. Acknowledge, pray, submit, speak truth, release in the Name of Jesus, believe, and walk free.

My heart experienced true freedom that night and in the months that made up the remainder of my time on the World Race. Heaps of ugly weeds were pulled out and discarded from the garden that the Lord calls my heart.  In their place, seeds of freedom burst forth into bloom. “To see yourself the way God sees you is the beginning of freedom.” God does not see me as lonely. Loneliness does not reflect the heart or love of Jesus. After that night in Zambia, I have no longer described any part of myself as lonely in the present tense. Loneliness is no longer a friend of mine (sorry Backstreet Boys). “Lonely” is now only a descriptor from my past and an indicator of God’s faithfulness.

Glory to God.

“We Are Mortal Enemies”

Dear Iranian Men Who I Met In Penang:

You probably do not remember me, and that is perfectly fine. We met in Penang, Malaysia, when we were feeding my teammate weird street food a little more than a month ago. You approached my teammates and myself to ask about Iranian subtitles in movies. Having never seen any movies with Iranian subtitles nor knowing Iranian in the first place made us unable to answer your survey questions. You stuck around to watch my friend’s reactions to the food and made polite conversation in the meantime. We got to talking about what country we are from. As soon as we mentioned America, you said a statement that broke my heart. I wasn’t able to discuss it with you that night in person, but I could not let this statement go without sharing my heart.

“You’re From America? We’re from Iran. We are mortal enemies.”

I am not like the majority of Americans that our media portrays.  As I’ve traveled around the world, I’ve seen a lot of different viewpoints on America and American culture/beliefs. Contrary to some high profile Americans, I do not perceive all Muslims as terrorists. None of the Muslims whom I have met in my life are terrorists, nor are they wanting to become a terrorist.  

“Yeah, but how many Muslims do you actually know to be able to say that?”

More than you realize. Before I embarked on this trip, I only knew a handful of Muslims. I’ve been traveling the world for nine months, and in these nine months I have met many, many Muslims. After all, we did meet in Malaysia, a Muslim nation!

“But you don’t understand the differences between us,”  you might say. “You’re an American, you know nothing what our culture is like. Our culture is not like the countries that you have visited. Our culture is quite different even from Malaysia, so how can you compare the two?”

While I have never been to Iran, I know more about your culture than you realize. I have had to change the way that I dress, the foods that I eat,  and the words that I speak to honor the culture around me, in Muslim areas and nations outside of Malaysia.  Aside from those things, what I’ve realized  living with and among Muslims is something that I’ve already known.

Muslim lives are just as important as any other life on this planet.

Muslims and I believe different things, but our difference in beliefs does not separate our humanity.

I know, I know. This might be the first time that an AMERICAN has told you that they value your life, despite the fact that our nations aren’t the best of friends.

But it’s true.

Your life has value.

Your past, your present, your future has extreme value because God created you and LOVES you.

Even though you don’t follow Jesus, He still loves you.

Even if you hate Him, He still loves you.

Even if you never acknowledge Him or His love, His love for you still exists.

He still loves you so much that He died on your behalf so that you could be free from sin and live with God in Heaven forever.

That night in Malaysia, it didn’t matter which of us were which religion. We all were people who crave love and respect; people who want to be known and seen; people with hopes and dreams; people with families, friends, and inside jokes; people with cravings for really good street food in Penang.

Our religious beliefs are different, yes, but that does not make any Muslim–or anyone else of any other belief system, for that matter–my mortal enemy.

The phrase “mortal enemy” means an enemy who wants to kill you. As we talked in Penang, the desire to kill each other was the farthest thing from any of our minds. I don’t want to kill you because you are a Muslim. I don’t want to ever even think of killing you–or anyone–because you are a human being just like I am and I see the value in your life.  Even though you may never read this, I want this letter to be the opposite of killing you–I want this letter to give you life.

We have some major differences in beliefs when it comes to Jesus, but I’ll let you in on a secret–all over the world, people who are not Muslims also have different beliefs than I do when it comes to Jesus.

I’m going to make some assumptions here. If these assumptions are not true for you, they very well might be true of someone else who is reading this.

I’m assuming that you grew up in Iran, having learned Islam from a very young age.

I’m assuming that you learned that Jesus was just one of many prophets.

What I believe influences my life, as I’m sure that what you believe influences your life.

I believe that Jesus is who He said He is–the Son of God.

I believe that Jesus came to Earth, lived a perfect life, and died on a cross. I believe that His death on the cross erased sin and the power of sin from our lives; I believe that because Jesus died for our sins and then rose from the dead that we are forgiven, fully, and forever.

The thing is, even if you treated me horribly, even to the point of persecuting me for my faith (which was far from your mind as we stood joking in Penang), I would still treat you with love and respect. I would still pray for you to see Jesus for who He truly is. I would still honor you. You see, as followers of Jesus, we strive to be like Him. We know that not everyone will welcome our faith in Jesus with open arms. When Jesus was persecuted before His death, He didn’t retaliate with violence or evil. We’re taught as Christians to feed our enemy if he is hungry and give him something to drink if he is thirsty. We’re taught to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. We’re taught to overcome evil with good.

Let’s use some logic here. If I see someone as a mortal enemy, how can I be consumed with the thoughts of both killing them and loving them? Loving a person means valuing a person’s life, not choosing to end it for selfish reasons. My purpose in life is to love others the way that Jesus loves me. I don’t love others the way that Jesus loves me by making enemies with people of the world who are different from me. Never once as Jesus was being persecuted to the point of death on a cross did He refer to the people who were opposed to Him as His enemies.  As a result, I have no enemies, let alone mortal enemies. I simply have opportunities before me to love people well.

My friends, I hope that this letter brought you life and loved you well.

Sincerely,

A follower of Jesus who loves Penang street food.

Who I Am Has Always Been Inside Of Me

I admit it–I’m a World Race blog stalker.  It actually has worked out in my favor, because if it wasn’t for reading blog after blog after blog after blog when I was in college, I may not be here, in month 8 of my own World Race. I vowed to myself that when I went on the World Race, I would post blogs that were deep and honest; blogs that I hoped would inspire and encourage many others.

So far on my Race, I have fallen short of this personal goal. Yes, I have written blogs that have received many great compliments. I’ve written blogs that have in fact inspired others. I have had a blog re-posted by the World Race. Even so, I have skirted around writing the “deep, honest blogs.”

Until today. This blog actually got its start a couple of months ago, but it has been a hard blog to finish. I hope that this blog encourages and inspires others; I hope and pray that this blog truly makes my Heavenly Father proud and brings more glory to His Name.

Sometimes, it’s hard for me to share my testimony, but not for the reasons that you would think.  I don’t have a crazy story of conversion. I’ve never had an issue with drugs, alcohol, abuse, abandonment, demon possession, poverty, relationships, or any of the other things that we’ve come to expect in a “powerful” testimony. My life “before Jesus” is not the complete opposite of my life “with Jesus.” It has been easy for me to believe the lie–even while on the World Race–that my story is not one that carries power and influence.

The life that I have been given by God truly has been amazing. It has been full of joy, laughter, love, and innumerable blessings from the start. I’ve known God’s love for as long as I’ve known what love is. My childhood was full of imagination, full of laughter, full of playing, full of color, full of creativity. I excelled in every subject in school and had many friends. I loved playing all sports, but it was not long before soccer became my favorite. I joined the local rec team and played my little heart out at every practice and every game. I loved spending time at church. I loved spending time with my family and my friends. The world was full of adventures to be had and dreams to be dreamed.. My life as a kid was one of simple trust and love in Jesus, exploding joy, and blowing bubbles in the backyard.

“The wounds we received as young girls did not come alone. They brought messages with them, messages that struck at the core of our hearts…our wounds strike at the core of our femininity. The damage done to our feminine hearts through the wounds we received is made much worse by the horrible things we believe about ourselves as a result. “–Stasi Eldredge, Captivating

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment in time when I started to believe that I was not “enough.” Maybe it was the time that I got forgotten and left behind for my friend’s birthday party in elementary school. Maybe it came because I was somewhat of a perfectionist and anything that ended with a hint of failure was reason enough to believe that I had fallen short of a standard. Maybe it happened with both of these things; maybe it happened with neither of these things. All I know is that this belief both deepened and expanded in my heart as the years passed. Rejection came into my heart through avenues which prior had been safe havens for me. My heart felt the bitter sting of rejection through sports teams, through friends (both actively and passively), through employers, through prospective employers, through my own thoughts and false beliefs.

I learned to avoid rejection’s sting by closing off parts of my heart. I would not always volunteer my opinion or thoughts –I was unable to separate them from the part of my heart that strived for the approval of others. If my opinion or heart were not out in public, they couldn’t be rejected. I trusted my closest friends and Jesus with these feelings, but the pain still came when I least expected it–even on the Race.

I graduated from college a little more than five years ago. The first few months after graduation were difficult for me. The friends who I lived with and saw day in and day out for years were no longer right next to me. They had either moved away from college or were still studying for their degrees and I was the friend who moved away. I had just started to attend a new church during my final semester, and was still “the new girl” as I tried to make friends there. I could barely find a job, let alone a job in my field. All of a sudden, the years of preparation in school for “the real world” seemed to be nowhere near enough. Pieces of my identity that I had known for so long had become memories, photos to hang on the wall. “Remember back when I was a student?”  “Remember back when I had a community of friends all around me?” Many times, my prayer times became times of just crying, my confusion and loneliness making forming actual words too difficult. One night, I read a blog that talked about identity. One simple quote from it changed everything for me. ¨Lord, I want to see myself the way that You see me.” I wrote that quote on an index card, placed it in my Bible, and began to pray it with fervor and passion.

Over the past few years, God has completely changed how I see myself. God didn’t change who I am. He didn’t make me an entirely new person. I’m still the little girl who sees the world as full of adventures to be had and dreams to be dreamed, I just happen to be in an adult’s body now. God showed me that the person who I’ve always wanted to be has always been inside of me. I didn’t want to change, I wanted to be unveiled and revealed. The little girl version of myself never ever had to strive to believe that I am pretty and beautiful and full of joy and everything else that defined me. The little girl version of me never ever doubted that Jesus would come through for me, because He is Jesus and that is what He does. The little girl version of me was confident in who she was–loved, unique, free, enough, chosen. I wanted to see myself in these ways again, because deep down inside, I knew that is who I truly am.

Last month, in Malaysia, I got a tattoo. I did not get it just because getting a tattoo in Asia is a popular thing to do on the World Race. I got the tattoo because it was a permanent reminder of how God sees me. It’s a constant reminder of the person who has always been inside of me, even through times of loneliness and times of rejection.

Choosing someone shows that the person who is being chosen has worth, has importance, has value. God chose to die on my behalf. He chose to forgive my sins. He has chosen me to bring His Kingdom to Earth by telling others about Him. He has chosen to place me on Earth at this time in history for specific reasons. Being chosen is the opposite of being rejected. Even when it seemed that my heart was facing rejection after rejection, the truth is that while people may reject me, Jesus never will. In fact, what I have perceived as “rejection” is actually redirection–redirection from the burden of needing the approval of others to the freedom of fully knowing and living out the freedom that Jesus offers.

“I have given you confidence in who you are. I have given you an everlasting splendor for the glory of My Name. Stand up in bold confidence, forget the failures of the past, for I am doing a new thing in and through you. This freedom, O beloved daughter of Mine, is unlike any other freedom you have tasted before. The depths of your heart will feel this freedom and raise a shout for joy.”

Deuteronomy 7:6 “For you are a people holy to the Lord your God. The Lord your God has chosen you out of all of the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession.”

Hosea 2:14-15 (NIV)

“Therefore, I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor {trouble} a door of hope. There she will sing as in the days of her youth, as in the day she came up out of Egypt.”

My heart has been healed from the pain of rejection. Scars still remain, but the scars themselves testify to how Jesus was at work in my heart to bring healing. Loneliness is no longer a friend of mine. God’s love is more than enough for me, and His love makes me more than enough. From now on, sharing my testimony will be a lot easier–I just have to look at my left ring finger.  I am loved. I am beautiful. I am free. I am enough. I am His. I am chosen.

Resting In Beauty

My heart has been in Africa for years prior to my passport allowing me entry into this continent. As a young girl, I heard many missionaries speak at my home church. Every time a missionary came, part of my little heart became fully alive. I knew that I wanted to be one of them, traveling the world and telling people about Jesus. I loved adventure, traveling, and Jesus, so this was the best possible combination for my future.

When I was in college, God called me to be a missionary. I prayed about where He wanted me to go. One country in Africa kept coming up again and again. This country became a home for my heart, even though I had never set foot in that nation. After college, a handful of my friends traveled to Africa as missionaries. Every single person I knew who had been to Africa had fallen fully and deeply in love with the continent and with whatever country they were in. Hearing story after story made my heart’s excitement for Africa grow.

Before I came on the Race, I was almost always under a lot of stress. Stress came from many angles–work, not knowing where the Lord was leading me, feeling stuck in my current life situation, not having a consistent schedule for anything, always having a lot of things to do, not knowing how to pursue the dreams that God had given me, trying to balance family and friends in the middle of all of that, rarely sleeping well, the list goes on and on. On the outside, I managed the stress well. I did not have many “freaking out” moments. On the inside, I was overwhelmed, with no way out.

Fast forward to month three of the Race.

It’s happened and yet it’s just starting. I’ve only been in Africa for about a day now (and part of it was spent in an airport), but I’ve felt an excitement, a peace, a coming home that I haven’t felt on the Race until now. When we landed, even though I was ridiculously tired & out of sorts, my soul rejoiced.

This month, my team is serving in Malawi. This is not the country that my heart fell in love with during college and has been praying for ever since (#ripSsquad), but my life changed forever the moment I stepped foot in Africa. It wasn’t long before my heart found the part of it that the Lord put in Africa before my arrival.

Last night at orientation, we were told not to cry or feel sorry for the people of Malawi (and their poverty). Yes, I’m sure my heart will break, but I can’t ever imagine feeling sorry for them. I’ve fallen in love with Malawi and it’s people already. Their joy and love is unlike any other! Our  contact already refers to the five of us as his daughters. How could I ever feel sorry for people who show such love, just because their environment and culture are different than mine? Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve dreamed of coming to Africa to serve Jesus. How could I feel sorry for the people through whom God is choosing to make that dream & those years of prayer a reality? I’ve left my heart around the world before and will keep doing so during the Race. This month, I have a feeling that I will be also finding my heart, more than I’ve ever found it before.

My soul has found room in Malawi to breathe deeply. The joy of the Lord has multiplied in my heart, leaving no room for any worries, doubts, frustrations, burdens, or stresses. I am resting in His beauty; His beauty has set my heart free.