I am the girl who once traveled the world & kept record of those experiences on this very blog-but then, without warning, dropped off the face of the blog scene leaving you all to fill in the blanks of how my Race ended.
During the nearly 7 months ( yes, 7- can you believe it?) that I've been home, I've been asked quite a few times whether or not I planned to update my blog. The most common complaint is that I left everyone hanging. Or as one man so eloquently put it "I didn't know if you had died out there or not?!". Well, rest assured I did indeed make a safe return to the states...I just didn't write about it. I, of course, had intention to make some "profound" closing remarks or hit you with one final God revelation; but, once those plane wheels hit the tarmac at JFK, the whirlwind of life in America began & it hasn't stopped since.
To be honest, if it weren't for a few random events during the past week, this blog would have probably been left to the archives- collecting dust along with it's forgotten companions. Within a two day time span, three different people talked to me about this blog- two of those merely simple discussion, but one slightly more significant.
Katie, one of my Powerhouse teammates, is leading a World Race squad with her husband, Billy, starting in July. During one of their training sessions with the upcoming racers, they met a girl. Through discussion, Katie uncovered that this girl was going on the race because she read my blog! Apparently the story goes that she stumbled upon the World Race website, clicked on a blog (which so happened to be mine), read through the stories of God working in incredible ways around the world, felt a tug on her heart, signed up to go on the race this July & the rest is history!
OK, before this goes any further,allow me to emphasize the fact that I am sharing this for no other reason but to express my excitement. I am simply excited at the reminder that the Lord uses me. He speaks through me. He takes me to places I need to be in order to be best used for His kingdom. I think I am often too quick to forget those simple truths- but this was a great reminder that we truly are the Lord's instrument.
So that being said, I am going to "finish" this blog. I have a series of journal entries from the last few weeks of the race & my first weeks home that I will post. Trust me, I am not under the illusion that you have all been waiting with baited breath for this day, haha. In fact, I'm not so sure that anyone will actually read this. However, I do know that there are many people who supported me on this journey, people who prayed, generously donated, and people who walked with me every step of the way. To you, I owe a conclusion of sorts. But, most importantly, I feel that the purpose of this blog in the first place was to recount the lessons I've go graciously learned from the Lord. And when the Lord speaks, the last thing I want to do is keep that to myself. It needs to be shared.
So stay tuned, the Lord just might have a few more lessons for me...
It was a normal night of
work at the Sir Toby's pub. Nothing out of the ordinary- just
conversation & a continuous pouring of beer.
Then they walked in.
A pack of men, typical in their arrogant strut & overly confident
conversation starters, yet unique in their outfits- pilot jumpsuits &
aviator sunglasses straight from Tom Cruise in the movie Top Gun. I
presume their absurd appearance was meant for some type of costume
party; however, I never had enough care to ask. As they approached
the bar, I mentally prepared myself for what was to ensue. Right from
the start, I knew they were going to be trouble.
Before they could open their
mouths to speak, I could tell I would be better off if they never
did. Unfortunately, I was right. As they ordered their drinks, the
joking & derogatory comments aimed at me began to flow freely. Be
nice & smile Jesse, I thought as I tried to convince myself
it was a good idea to even acknowledge their misogynistic comments.
Nevertheless, conversation began & I was able to share about my
trip. I explained the premise of the Race & proceeded to list all
the countries we had visited. When the list led me to Thailand, their
eyes perked up & their attention was instantly commanded.
Men: " You went to
Thailand?!"
Me: " Yes sir I most
certainly did."
"I LOVE Thailand-
isn't it incredible?"
"Yes, of course,
absolutely incredible."
"Did you go to any of
the Red Light Districts?"
"Yes" I
hesitantly reply -cringing at the direction I anticipate the
conversation going.
"Wasn't it AWESOME?!"
The man was almost yelling he was so excited.
My heart sunk & my blood
began to boil. "No it was not awesome- it was terrible."
"WHAT!?", the man
exclaimed. " How is that possible? Those girls are so hot."
It took every ounce of
strength in my body to restrain myself. I searched for words to
adequately retort but all I could mange to push through my gritted
teeth was, "It was terrible because those women are people, real
live human beings. And I did not go to Thailand to enjoy the Red
Light District. I went to love the women who are exploited by sick
men like you."
My cheeks burned. I could
barely breathe I was so angry. Keen to the fact I was angry, the men
began to offer half-hearted & patronizing apologies. We exchanged
a few more words & they went about their way. But I was left
stunned, stewing, & shaking in an utter rage. I hated them. I
couldn't believe that people like that actually existed. They went to
the Red Light District & bragged about it to a GIRL!!
Did they somehow think that I would find that impressive???? It was
absolutely beyond me.
The minutes passed & I
felt a full on war rage inside of me. I wanted to yell at them, hit
them, make them feel terrible for their pathetic existence. But there
was another voice in me that I knew I had to love them. Thats what I
am called to do right- to love to unlovable. But how could I?
As they left the pub, I
squeaked out a meager smile; which I'm sure was not too convincing.
Love is harder than I thought.
A few
days later, I was still processing through the events of that night.
I just could not get over the disturbing encounter. It made me mad.
It made me sick. Then while praying about my anger, I became suddenly
overwhelmed with this notion of God's love. I felt Him say, " Jess,
these men are my children too & I love them. I know it doesn't
make sense; but, I love them with all my heart. I love them
just the same as I love you." As these words sank in, I
began to sob uncontrollably. I could barely breathe as I tried to
comprehend the power, the sheer magnificence of God's love. It's
unfathomable.
I don't
know that I have ever felt His love so strongly. As I sat on the
sofa, just feet away from the bar where my encounter occurred, my
tears subsided, a faint smile crept across my face, & my heart
filled with an awe inspired reverence.
My
God is good. He teaches me lessons in the most ironic of ways. And He
loves me. I can be sure of that.
During the month of October team
Powerhouse lived & worked at Sir Toby's Hostel in Prague, Czech
Republic. I am completely convinced that Sir Toby's is the
greatest hostel to ever exist.
Sir Toby's is owned by Christian
entrepreneur Mathias Schwender & his wife Carrie. Mathias,
originally from Germany & Carrie, from California, also own
several other hostels in Prague. They have a passion for service, a
heart for the Lord, & the result is a unique & seemingly
successful business model. Their mission is to bring people together,
to create environments where life happens, & in turn cultivate a
culture where the gospel is freely shared. That is where we came in.
[cooking up a storm for the pancake dinner.]
This past month we served in a variety
of ways at Sir Toby's. We cleaned bathrooms, changed bed linens,
served breakfast, painted signs, cooked meals, worked at the pub,
tended to the guests etc etc. Essentially, we were the janitors, the
chefs, the housekeepers, the receptionists, & the bartenders. But
most of all we were the face of Sir Toby's & more importantly the
face of what Sir Toby's is aiming to represent- Christ.
Day in & day out we worked
alongside the staff & lived alongside the guests- we never
stopped. It was a true opportunity to live by example & share the
message of Christ by simply existing. For me, this past month was
incredible. It was a time filled with divinely appointed
conversation, growth, prayer, relationship building, self- discovery,
& love. Not to mention, it just so happened to take place in one
of the most breathtaking cities I've been privileged to experience. I
could never tire of admiring the architecture while walking Prague's
cobblestone streets or reading along the bank of the Rhine while
sitting under the Charles Bridge- my absolutely favorite spot.
[ beautiful architecture in Old Town Square.]
It was for this reason that
I slept as little as was required to still function & consumed
more cups of coffee than should be humanly possible. I will also
blame Prague's grandiose nature for my lack of blogging. With so many
people to meet & so many places to explore, I found it near
impossible to remain faithful to my writing. But do not worry, I have
a few select highlights that I will share with you over the next week
or so. Therefore, stay tuned for stories from my time in Prague....
After spending over 9 months as a
vagabond, living out of a bag, sleeping on floors, in tents, &
just about any place my body would fit- I have grown rather
accustomed to being "homeless". I have assumed the
role of permanent guest- never quite comfortable enough to feel like
part of the family, always careful to be polite & consistently
attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. This is by no means a
complaint, but rather a realization of the nature of life on
the race- until I arrived in Viile Tecii.
[sweeties.]
From the moment I walked into the door
of the Stoica household- I knew it was special. I was greeted with
smiles & hugs & it never stopped. It was only a matter of
days before I felt completely at home- I had fallen in love with this
sweet family.
The Stoica family is led by Abi, a
brilliant father & loving husband. Abi is a man that truly grasps
the important things in life- he lives solely to serve the Lord &
love his family. Joy radiates from his very being & he made every
morning brighter as I emerged from my room he would extend his arms
to welcome an embrace exclaiming "Good morning my girl, oh my
girl". Abi's wife, Lily, is his perfect complement. Lily is an
unbelievably hard worker & has a great sense of humor. She is
constantly laughing & playing jokes on Abi- to which he receives
with a shake of his head & a huge smile, of course.
[Abi & Lily]
Abi & Lily have four wonderful
children- two sons, Adi & Adi, which makes the male population of
the household quite easy to remember ( Abi, Adi, & Adi- haha) &
two daughters, Andrea & Alex. Andrea & Alex befriended us
quickly & it was only a matter of days before they adorned us
with the name "Sister". Adi & Adi are best friends even
though 16 years separates them in age. Watching them interact is
rather adorable. Also the younger Adi ( Tiny Adi, as I call him) is
the most precious child to have ever existed, I'm sure of it. He is
mischievous; but his smirk & baby blue eyes enable him to get
away with just about anything.
[Alex, Andrea, & Tiny Adi.]
The Stoicas took me in- no questions
asked. Together we cooked, ate meals, danced, watched movies,
laughed, cried, played, hugged, & loved. The love I received from
this family was undeserved; but I believe that is what made it all
the sweeter. In a way, nothing compares to experiencing undeserved
love. It never quite makes sense; yet it's too wonderful to ever
oppose. My life was made a little brighter through my time with the
Stoica family. It forever changed my view about the Gypsy people &
taught me to be more generous with my heart.
Abi, Lily, Adi, Andrea, Alex, &
Tiny Adi are people whom I will never forget. I love them- my sweet
Gypsy family.
[the Stoicas.]
Emmie & I had a photo shoot with the family. These are some more pictures to enjoy.....
[An excerpt from my journal after one of our first days of ministry in Romania.]
[bianca & estina.]
Viile Tecii is absolutely beautiful. Today was a perfect introduction into ministry here. We drove through the rolling Romanian countryside to walk the gravel & dirt streets of a quaint gypsy village. With every step, a new dirt smudged check appeared from the myriad of tattered clothing hung to dry. I was in the middle of the street. It was then & there that I saw her. A small child- no taller than my waist. Her hair, the most golden of blondes, falling over each ear into the tiniest braids I have ever seen. She wore fire engine red tights & overtop two toned shorts of yellow & green. Her pale pink sweatshirt adorned with cartoon characters completed her already joker like appearance. She stood still observing from afar. Our eyes locked. My emerging smile was enough invitation to beckon her forward. With determination she ran towards me. Five feet to go- she stopped dead in her tracks- too timid to finish the journey. I extended my hand & almost instantaneously she propels forward to latch relentlessly to my side. Her head tucked & nuzzled into my shirt. Her arms locked in a tight embrace. For minutes we did not move.
Something was happening. Something significant.
[beautiful babushkas.]
For we are strangers & people do not normally just love strangers. But we were enveloped in a moment of love. How was this possible? Then it hit me- like time stilled & spun around our statuesque embrace. Only Jesus loves strangers. Only the love of Christ can uninhibitedly stand in a moment of love with a stranger. So I knew that in that moment, I was Jesus for her & she was Jesus for me. Then I thought maybe that's what it's all about. That is how you bring Kingdom. That is how you make earth look like heaven.
Abi (my Romanian host), Emily, & I were out for an afternoon of ministry. It had been about 45 minutes since we'd left the house & we had still not arrived at our final destination. Em & I did not at all mind our impromptu tour of the Romanian countryside; but by the disgruntled moans echoing from the driver's seat, it was clear Abi felt differently. As we tentatively turned onto yet another road, it became increasingly evident that we were lost.
There was nothing spectacular about this road- it was rocky, uneven, & like the others it led to an eclectic group of houses made common only by their shedding flakes of decaying paint. Its ordinary appearance gave us no reason to believe that our encounters here would be any different than the others. As we processed the gravel path, the smiling face of a tanned girl greeted us. Her name was Denisa- we were later told. She was shyly situated behind her mother's legs as they stood in the doorway of their home. Abi was the first to approach. It was only a matter of minutes before he was engaged in conversation with Cornel, the father of Denisa & the man of the household. In their exchange, a beautiful story began to unfold.
[Cornel & family.]
8 years earlier, Cornels daughter received a Bible as a birthday present. Given that his daughter was young & could not read, the Bible was seemingly useless & tossed aside. However, through a series of events, Cornel decided to read this odd birthday gift. Cornel soon became enthralled with the stories. He came alive with each turn of a page. He loved the characters, the places, the lessons, the principles. He loved how he felt when he read it. It was his favorite book.
But that's all it was to him- just a book. A fictional story, a meaningless collection of words arranged on a page. For 8 years, Cornel read his Bible, day in & day out, & he never knew its contents were real. He said that he often dreamt of the books reality & had always secretly hoped that it was. Some days he would feel a force so strong that he was almost certain the Bible was a true story; but, he still never KNEW. Cornel's compulsion toward God was so powerful that he began to mimic the actions of his favorite character, Jesus. He prayed, just as Jesus did. He prayed for someone to come confirm that this story was true. Although he had wishful thinking, he never actually had faith that this confirmation would ever occur.
[Cornel's beloved Bible.]
Flash-forward to the present. Abi, Emmie & I are standing in Cornels living room. We are the first Christians he has ever seen. Until this moment, people like us were only a myth, mere characters in a storybook. As Abi spoke about the truth of Christ & His creation, an undeniable energy flowed through the room. Cornel, beaming ear to ear, frantically thumbed through his Bibles' thinning pages scanning & mumbling in Romanian. His fingers stopped on 1 John 1 & he read loudly "That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at & our hands have touched- this we proclaim is the word of life. We write this to make our joy complete." He looked up, his eyes on fire with passion- like a healed blind man seeing his dark world come to light for the first time. "This is real!!!" he exclaimed. "Now I know that this is real."
[Cornel & Abi conversing.]
Cornel sighed, seemingly letting out the breath he had been holding for 8 years. He continued on in conversation, his smile never once fading from his lips. He had made it. For years he had read, he had studied, he had hoped. And then we show up- just 2 fun-loving American girls & 1 ex Romanian boxer -lost on a back country gravel road to unknowingly change Cornel & his family's lives forever. We walked onto that street to smile at children & take some photographs. We had no idea that our presence would confirm the reality of the gospel.
I've been told about people groups who have never heard the name of Jesus; but, I, never once in all my life, considered the possibility that someone would have read the entire Bible not knowing that its contents represent Christianity. It is insane for me to think that a book which has held such a revered position in my life could be a mere story to others.
Not until the moment that I saw the fire of salvation ignite in Cornels eyes did I fully comprehend the meaning of being a disciple. "Go into all the world & make disciples of all the nations." Those words never held such meaning. God did His part- He created, He sacrificed, He redeemed, He saved. He commissioned the writing of His epic story. But now it is up to us, the chosen ones, to ensure that the Bible is known as more than just a popular fiction. It is our responsibility to walk down random gravel roads & confirm the gospels reality.
My encounter with Cornel was impactful, ground-breaking even. I will never forget the radiant joy cemented on Cornels face the day he discovered his favorite book is real.
I have officially left Africa & moved onto continent number three, Eastern Europe. The days of safaris, matoke, & tribal dancing are behind me and ahead awaits winter weather, ancient architecture, & hills of rolling green. With month nine well underway, it is almost impossible to believe that it has been nearly a year since I said my goodbyes & took a leap of faith into this crazy adventure called the World Race.
I chose this mission because I wanted to change the world. I wanted to feed the hungry, cloth the naked, & house the homeless. I went on this trip because I wanted to travel, I wanted to serve, & I thought I had something to offer the people of the world. I've spent the past 9 months learning that I was indeed correct just not in the way I had expected. I have traveled, I have served, & I do have something to offer the people of the world; but, it does not manifest in the form of food, clothing, or money. The greatest thing I have to offer the nations is something intangible, something immeasurable, something much more valuable. God has taken me in, around, & through the fire to make me realize that my greatest purpose is to love & to be an example of Christ, the ultimate lover. Yes, I can still feed the hungry & care for the sick; but, those acts are mere manifestations of pursuing a life lived in love. I do not live to do good works. I live to love- a lesson most definitely worth learning.
I would not trade that lesson nor my World Race experience for anything. It has truly been revolutionary.
That being said, I have only 2 and a half months of this journey remaining-two and a half months worth of opportunities to spread the love that Christ has graciously given & instilled within me. I would enjoy nothing more than to fulfill that charge & finish this race; but, I cannot do this without your help. I am currently about $3,000 short from being fully funded. Therefore, I am asking you- my family, my friends, my random blog readers, to, as you feel led, please come and be a part of my journey.
A few days ago I had a conversation with my friend Danny. The ideas from this conversation have lingered & become the food for a majority of my thoughts as of late.
Danny spoke about relationship with God & more specifically about a relational idiosyncrasy that I often fail to comprehend- resting in the Lord.
What does that even mean to rest in the Lord? Is it just one of those cliché statements that some Christians derived from excerpts of scripture & is now manipulated to fit into any context desired by the user? Or is it genuine? Is it a valid concept, a realistic notion? Can you truly rest in God? And if so, how is it done? What does it look like? These were the questions that ran through my mind as Danny spoke.
Danny began describing what the Lord has been teaching him about resting in God & enjoying His presence. He learned that God does not require his children to constantly excel toward perfection in Him. Believers do not always need to be doing or performing in order to strengthen & build relationship with the Lord. As Danny recounted this glorious revelation, the most comforting notion formed in my head.
[cornerstone orphanage in budaka, uganda.]
My mind often processes through analogies. If I do not understand an idea or a feeling, I compare it to one with which I can relate. That usually does the trick. So as Danny spoke, my mind began to attribute the familiar concept of relationships with friends to this foreign proposal of rest in God. My thought processes was as follows:
My friends & I are in a relationship. God & I are in a relationship. I began to think: What is one way I know my relationship with someone has reached a whole new level? When I can sit & do nothing with them. When I can sit in a room doing absolutely nothing; yet, be perfectly content- we can enjoy each other's mere presence. I know my relationship with someone is solid when silence is no longer awkward, when our time spent together does not require extravagant entertainment, when co-existing doesn't mean continual effort. I know a relationship is real when I am at ease in their presence; there is no performance- I am at rest.
[snack time.]
My thought continued as I pictured some of my favorite times with friends. These were not times of grand events or glamorous activity; but rather times when life was simply communal. In the same stream of consciousness, I drew myself farther into this analogy. I saw myself overlooking the ocean, a cup of steaming coffee in hand, I am silent. In the chair next to me, God is comfortably settled, His divine body wrapped up in a oversized blanket. The ocean wind is fierce & whipping through our hair- it is winter after all. The sky is the most serene sort of grey. Again, I am quiet. My lips utter no semblance of flattery. My mind does not hasten to instigate impressing conversation. Both of our heads are fixated forward, our attention commanded by the crashing waves. But from the corner of my eye, I see a faint yet undeniable smile form on the face of God. I know His expression reflects His heart. To an onlooker this moment may seem anything but extravagant; but, we know otherwise. The Lord is smiling on me. He is content in my silence. I am content in His presence. We are living life together, simply communing. We are reveling in His awe inspiring creation. We are in relationship. I am at rest.
This fictional scenario of the Lord changed my life. I've heard people say it & I've read all the scriptures about the insignificance of good works in the light of salvation; but, still, in the deepest parts of me, I have somehow always been scrambling to be good enough for the Lord. I have forever correlated spirituality or intimacy with God with those seemingly gleaming from impressive scriptural revelations or those who are in a perpetual state of Christian notoriety.
We are a people who feel the constant need to do. We take action because the fulfillment of those actions often defines our worth. But our God is different. Our relationship with God is different. We are not required to impress Him. And just like we can find peace in the presence of our closest friends, we can find peace & rest in God.
So are all my questions answered? Not necessarily-I am still on this road to discovering all the nooks & crannies of life with Christ; but, I am one step closer in the journey & if I get tired, at least I can rest along the way.
It happened again today. Someone referred to me as a missionary.
Nearly 8 months into the race and that word, when used to define my being, still takes me by surprise. In recent months, my name has been attributed to far more ludicrous claims such as prophet, healer, angel, preacher, messenger, & magician. During one service the pastor requested I remove my shoes & walk the aisle before preaching in order to make the church ground holy. This of course was the same service where upon the completion of my sermon, the entire congregation formed a line to one by one take a photo with me as they eagerly shoved their babies into my arms. Africans sure do have an interesting perspective on the hierarchy of believers and the spiritual role of outsiders (that's a whole other story though). But even in the midst of all these seemingly outrageous attributions; missionary is the one that never fails to leave my head spinning.
Me, a missionary? Impossible.
A missionary is a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and a pastel colored collared shirt. A missionary is a woman with an eighties style perm & an ankle-length jean skirt. A missionary is someone who has an exorbitant amount of abnormally well-behaved children all adorned with undeniably Biblical names that most likely begin with the same letter. A missionary is someone who has a Bible degree & whose names boast the prefixes pastor, reverend, or minister. A missionary is someone who gives up earthly possessions to move overseas & live a comfort-free life in some obscure village in the middle of nowhere. A missionary is someone who spends his days preaching & evangelizing. A missionary is a specific kind of person, divinely appointed, & more spiritual than the average Christian. Right?
Is this not the embodiment of a stereotypical missionary? If so, then how could I fall under such classification? Why would I ever want to?
Each time I was labeled a missionary my insides would cringe & send my mind into a spiral of thought, seeking to determine what this tag says about my identity. Then one day, God began to speak to me. "Jesse, from where are you deriving this skewed definition of a missionary? Is a missionary not simply one of my children living in love & purposefully pursing a life lived only to glorify my name?"
It was then that I realized a missionary is not defined by his location, by his amount of possessions, nor even by his biblical training. A missionary is not an exclusive title to only be achieved by the most devout & spiritually elite of Christians. The life of a missionary does not require long skirts & dusty village roads. The life of a missionary does not demand conventional evangelism or preaching. Rather, a missionary is defined by his heart, by his desire to live a life reflecting Christ's.
So what does that mean for you and for me? It means that we don't need mission trips or seminary. We don't need these things to spur us to greatness. We should no longer hide behind our identity as a "normal" Christian & leave the world changing up the "missionaries". Our homes, our workplaces, our communities, our churches, our families, our neighbors- they are our mission field.
If we truly follow the example of Christ, if He lives in us, if He guides our steps, then our entire life is one big mission trip.
I am a missionary.You are a missionary. We are missionaries. & that no longer makes me cringe.
Month 8 has arrived & our time in Mwanza, Tanzania has come to a close. Team Powerhouse is picking up & moving on to our final African destination- Uganda. Tanzania was a month full of preaching, fellowship, dancing, & endless amounts of adorable children. It is hard to think about Africa & not immediately be reminded of the abundant flocks of children smiling, laughing, & shouting "Mzungu" (the Swahili word for white person) from every street corner. Whether clinging relentlessly to my waist or intertwining their snot covered hands with mine, their joyous presence never got old. I am sure I will dedicate an entire blog in the future to display photos of their many faces; but, for now enjoy this wonderful video made by my teammates Katie & Emily. How can you not help but fall in love?
