Mile 22

I’ve never run a marathon, but I’ve heard it said that the last four miles are the most difficult portion of the entire race.

By this point, your body is so exhausted that every step is filled with pain, and knowing you’re so close to the finish line is the only thing that remains as motivation.

There has been very little physical pain I’ve experienced on the World Race, but I feel like I’m at mile 22 emotionally and spiritually. I’m exhausted.

These past 10 months of my life have been wonderful and exciting and full of growth and learning, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But that doesn’t mean that this thing has been easy.

At the beginning of each month, I move to a new country. I meet new people, learn a few phrases in a new language, and try to settle into my new home. I learn how to get around with public transportation, get to know the people I’m serving and get to know who I’m serving with.

And for three and a half to four weeks, I serve. I do whatever my host asks of me, whether that be teaching, preaching, manual labor, yard work, spending time with kids, worship, or what have you. Every single day looks completely different. My “schedule” could change at any time during the day, and I just have to roll with whatever comes my way.

After doing what I can for my host and encouraging and uplifting my teammates, I say what always seems to be a difficult good-bye. Sometimes I cry, and sometimes I don’t. And then I leave, not knowing whether or not I will ever see the people I’ve grown so attached to again.

A few days after leaving, I arrive in a new home yet again. The cycle begins all over again.

At the beginning of the Race, every single day was new and exciting, and I loved rolling with things. Nothing could compare with the untold possibilities awaiting me each day, each month. But around month 6, those feelings began to wear off. This wasn’t just some adventure, this was my actual life.

I was living without roots, without stability, without a real home, living out of a backpack. And as the newness wore off, the things that became old began to become more and more visible.

There are many things that I have grown tired of. Being around people 24/7 (no matter how much I love those people, it’s hard never being alone). The never-ending miscommunication issues with locals. The people pointing and staring and shouting “White person! White person!” in their language. The people wanting pictures of and with us not because we matter to them, but so they can show their friends that they got to see white people. The men offering marriage proposals so they can get to America. The feeling that whomever I talk to may have hidden motives, and having to always be on guard and aware for my own safety. 

These are the things that have become a part of my life every single day, and it really makes me miss my home. It makes me miss America. It makes me miss being invisible to the world around me.

But in the face of these things that are weighing me down, I have motivation to continue running this race. I won’t stop running.

My motivation comes when I remember why I wanted to take on this challenge in the first place: to share the love of Christ with people all over the world.

I remember the struggles that Jesus faced during His time here, and what it cost him to love us with all He had.

When I think of these things, my perspective changes.

I begin to see miscommunications as opportunities for me to grow in patience and gentleness. I see all the unwanted attention as an opportunity to share with people what I’m doing in their country. When people just want to meet us or take pictures, I see an opportunity to make them feel seen and loved and valued, and display God’s love to them.

This doesn’t make the situations I’ve been facing every day any easier, but it does make them bearable. Not only bearable, but it makes them worth it.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. – James 1:2-4