an uncircumstantial type of love

On January 13, 27 of us entered the Dominican Republic. After a grueling travel day filled with many bumps along the way, we all arrived in Santiago, RD for the first time. We rolled into the Mission of Hope base, which we’d all learn to call home very quickly, around 3 am. We quickly unloaded our 50-pound backpacks that contained everything we owned, and then, headed to bed. With breakfast at 7:30 and a wake-up call from a rooster at 7, it’s safe to say, we didn’t get much sleep that night. 

 

This quickly became our normal routine. Wake up at 7 am to a rooster, then get up and start our day. Ministry was very scheduled and looked roughly the same every week, which as a person who craves structure, was perfect to me. I like consistency, I like a plan. Knowing roughly when and where I would be at any given time was very satisfying to me. I value control in a lot of aspects of my life, and oftentimes, the race hasn’t given me a ton of control over the things I do. There are a lot of changing plans, but that just comes with life on the field. So, being at Mission of Hope provided a sense of everyday familiarity that I loved.

 

The ministry done in the DR was beautiful. We met countless individuals with amazing stories of the Lord’s faithfulness and many people who would be hearing the gospel for the first time. Going out and meeting people exactly where they were at was incredible. Making individuals just feel known and cared for. On Mondays and Wednesdays, we went to an elementary school to help teach English to the kids there. This was so uplifting in many ways. The joy of these children was inspiring and allowed me to take a step back and be carefree. Did that mean that I often left with my hair in multiple tight braids and marker up and down my arms? Yes! And I wouldn’t change any of it. Ministry was too sweet and wonderful.

 

Most days, it seemed like the ministry was one of the only things that seemed right and steady in my little world.

 

Back at the base, it seemed like change and hardships came just as easy as that rooster would crow every morning. After enduring the spiritual darkness and physical darkness of Romania, we all were ready for a change of pace. The sunshine, close proximity to the beach, such good ministry? It all seemed perfect. But, the high that the sun gave us faded quickly as we entered month 6 of the race. It’s very typical for months 6 and 7 to be particularly challenging for a lot of racers. It’s a bit over the midpoint, we’re dirty, probably uncomfortable, and missing the comforts of home. The race is hard. 

 

The first change came unexpectedly to me when 2 of my squad-mates left. 2 quickly turned into 7, and then by the end, a total of 9 people had made the decision to leave the field, therefore concluding their time on the race and on our squad. This also meant a change to my team as well, which of course was difficult. This rocked my world. Because of all of the change, our squad hurt. We lost friends that felt like family and I gained a lot of confusion and sorrow. With other hardships rising that comes along with being on the race, my heart grew heavy. It seemed like I couldn’t get a grasp on anything and I was floundering. I found myself relating heavily to Lamentations 1:16

 

“This is why I weep 

And my eyes overflow with tears

No one near is to comfort me,

No one to restore my spirit

My children are destitute 

Because the enemy has prevailed”

 

It’s true, I had let the thoughts of the enemy infiltrate my mind. I felt alone. And the tears definitely did flow. I lost sight of the greatest constant, the ultimate comforter, my sweet Father. Life will forever be changing. Comfort and familiarity have never been promised. Especially not on the race. This season of undeniable heartache present a choice to the one afflicted by the pain: to give up, let go, and stop the fight OR to choose into the hard, let go of small grievances to choose grace and 

forgiveness, and fight the good fight for not only myself or my race, but for my squad-mates who I love dearly. Just a few chapters over in Lamentations, Chapter 3, verses 22-26 felt more accurate to my situation.

 

“Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed

For his compassions never fail

They are new every morning;

Great is your faithfulness

 

I say to myself “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him”

 

The Lord is good to those whose hopes in Him, to the one who seeks him;

It is good to wait quietly

For the salvation of the Lord”

 

So that’s exactly what I did. I waited. I put my trust and my hope in the Lord. I sought Him. And unsurprisingly, He found me and held me and loved me right where I was despite my own brokenness and heartache. He held me fast. He whispered truths about Himself in my ear, reminding me of how sovereign He is and always has been. He placed on my heart the pain of others so I could empathize. He convicted me of my wrongdoings and where I had trusted a feeling rather than His greater truths. And He held me fast through it all.

 

 Living in community isn’t comfortable, but it’s incredibly sweet. Living overseas isn’t glamorous but if it’s where the Lord calls, it’s where I’ll be. And if going through hardships is where I find my Father in an even deeper way than before, then I’ll gladly endure it all for a chance to feel held again. 

 

Now I’m in Nicaragua, a fresh start, and also my last country on race. I’m hopeful for this new season. But I know that even if the change and hardships continue, which is inevitable, I have my steadfast and constant Father to hold me. He’s unwavering. He isn’t circumstantial. He remains steady and because of that, I can remain there too.