It was about about month 10 on the race and I’m in Santa Ana, El Salvador. I was beginning to worry about plans for after the World Race. What was I supposed to do with my life?? I am wrecked and ruined for "normal" American life. I remember sitting and asking God if he wanted me to stay at home do the 8-5 and school jig or did he want me to go out again. Did he want me to take time to prepare myself for whatever is to come? I had several different options come up the last few months of the race and I wasn't very sure of any of them.
I remember distinctly speaking to my good friend Jeremiah while washing dishes. We discussed our potential plans, what we wanted, what we didn’t want, and our confusion. I remember telling him that I really want to take some time to prepare myself for whatever God had in my future for ministry. During the past year I had felt ill equipped. I wanted to know more about God and his word. I wanted to be a part of a discipleship while serving. “Have you considered Fisherwick because it sounds exactly what you are looking for..."
We arrived in Guatemala for our last month. I applied while constantly praying "God open the door if that’s your will, shut it if it’s not. If you want me to go prepare the way." I was interviewed via Skype and I was happy to see that two of the three people were members I knew. I had sat and eaten with them, spoken to them. It went fairly quick and a few weeks later I was accepted. Yet, I still wasn’t sure if I was going. I spent most of the three months I have been home working and pretending as if I wasn’t meant to go.
I mailed in my visa application on the last day out of obligation. I was so sure I would not be issued my visa. I hadn't mailed in the required three months of bank statements, I didn’t have the required $1,200 in the bank, shoot I didn’t even have half. Somehow three weeks later I received my visa. I was so sure that I had already told my family and my employer that I wasn’t going. I hadn’t waited for God to say yes or no. I had decided for myself.
I stared at that little blue passport and I knew that I couldn’t turn a blind eye to the fact that I had prayed “God if you want me to go let me get my visa.” After all I had already prayed “…if you want me to go let me get accepted, let me get a job where I can leave in three months, let me be able to cover my loan, let me be able to fix my stolen identity issues, let me have the money to go.” How many times must I test God before I move forward? How many times until I trust and jump? Will I allow what other think downplay what God has already done? Will I allow my fear of displeasing loved ones or the fear of seeming inconsistent and a flight risk take the place of my fear of God? No, I won’t. I refuse to allow all that I learned this past year to go to waste by ignoring the fact that somehow, miraculously God had made a way.
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