I didn't want to write this blog. Like really didn't want to.

In fact, I have put off writing this blog for over a year. That's how much I didn't want to write it.

I could go into all kind of reasons why I didn't want to write about this. I don't want people to think I'm crazy. The story doesn't end the way I wanted it to. There's a good chance I'm going to have to be more vulnerable in writing this than I want to be. There are many people and deep emotions involved in this story, and I want to be sensitive to them.

The point is that I didn't want to write this. But this story isn't about me. It's about God and his power and love and faithfulness, and who am I to not share those with the world?

This is a story of hope and pain, love and loss, faith and doubt, life and death.

This is the story of Anthony, a 16 year old young man who in my brief encounter with him, completely changed my view of prayer, faith, God, and believing for the impossible.

It all started a little over a year ago, when I was living in Nicaragua for the month. My team and another team were working with Vision Nicaragua, ministering in a nearby village called Bethel. Another one of our World Race teams was staying about fifteen minutes away, working with NewSong Mission, in the community of Candelaria. Because they were so close and both our organizations knew each other and sometimes did things together, we had the chance to go visit our friends and NewSong a couple times during the month. We got to see their ministry in action, which mostly consisted of building relationships with the youth in the community, spending time with them and investing in them.

A couple weeks into the month, a group of those youth went to the beach one day. None of them could swim particularly well, and the waves were large and strong that day. At one point, several of the youth were caught in a rip current; all of them managed to make it back to shore or were saved, except for one. Anthony.

Anthony's drowning was a huge shock and loss to everyone--our World Race friends, the people at NewSong, and of course, his family, friends, and community. Our teams at Vision Nicaragua heard about what happened that day and immediately started praying for everyone involved in the situation. We didn't personally know Anthony, but we knew a lot of the people involved, and we knew they were hurting deeply.

When Anthony didn't return to the shore right away, it was fairly obvious that he had drowned. However, the ocean is a big place to get lost in, and Anthony's body was lost. The search began for his body, for some closure to this tragedy, and it continued for several days.

Meanwhile, God was setting things in motion that were completely outside of the little box that I had always kept him in.

I ended up going over to NewSong the next day to see one of my friends on that team who is a nurse. I was suffering from an allergic reaction to mangoes that had been grossly misdiagnosed by a Nicaraguan doctor. I was completely miserable, and I knew there was a clinic there and that Carrie could help me. (Side note--I have never had an allergic reaction to mangoes before or after this incident. Coincidence?) Plus, I was glad for the chance to go over and see how my friends were doing, pray for them, and do whatever I could to support them in this difficult time.

Several of us went over at the same time, and what I thought would be a quick 1-2 hour visit turned into an all-day thing. While we were there, God made it very clear to multiple people that he had something crazy in mind. Something that I would have never considered in a million years. Something that was way beyond my realm of thinking or faith.

He wanted us to pray over Anthony's body to be raised from the dead.

Yes, you read that right. Sounds crazy, right? I thought so, too. In fact, when several of my friends pulled me aside to tell me this, it was so crazy to me that it literally took my breath away. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Who does something like that? Who prays over a dead body (which hadn't even been found yet) and actually has the faith to believe that it will be brought back to life?

But God had already started challenging my faith over the last several months, showing me that he loves to do things that we think are crazy. He loves to take our mustard seed of faith and turn it into something that moves mountains. He is the God of the impossible. So I threw out every ounce of common sense and reasonable thinking that usually dictates what I do, and I said ok. Ok God, if you want me to do this, I'll do it.

We spent the rest of the day praying, asking for the Lord's direction, and trying to find a way to the beach. Finally, as evening approached, four of us made our way to the beach, ready to take on the impossible. However, once we got there, there was a problem. Anthony's body still hadn't been found. How were we supposed to pray over a dead body that wasn't even there? So we started to walk along the beach (that had already been combed by a giant search party nonstop for the past 24 hours) looking for him and asking for God to show us why we were there. My friend Vanessa felt like we were supposed to meet and talk to Anthony's dad. We knew that he was the only one who hadn't left the beach when all the rest of the search party went home. But there were all kinds of people on this beach. How were we supposed to know which one was Anthony's dad?

At one point, the four of us stopped walking, got together, and started praying. Not even two minutes into our prayer, three men came walking up to us all talking at once in Spanish. The only word I could catch was Anthony. Thankfully, Vanessa is fluent in Spanish, and quickly translated the rest of the conversation for us. This was Anthony's dad, uncle, and friend. They had been farther down the beach, but when they looked up and saw the group of us praying, they said they just knew we were friends of Anthony and were looking for him, too. We had the chance to pray with them, encourage and comfort them, and speak life over them. They also told us that they were going back out at 6am the next morning to keep looking for him and we were welcome to join them in the search if we wanted. So we made the arrangements to meet them in the morning and finally headed home.

When we finally got back, we had to explain where we'd been all day. When we left that morning, we had planned to be gone for at most a couple of hours for me to get checked out and get medicine. Now that we were back hours later, we began to tell the rest of our teams what had happened that day. When we finished, we were in for a surprise of our own. Five of our teammates had decided to go to the beach earlier in the day and pray specifically for Anthony's body to be released from the ocean, recovered, and brought back to life. We had NO idea they had done this, and they had NO idea what we had done. When we had left that morning, none of us had ever even considered praying these crazy prayers. But God had been speaking to all of us very clearly about the same thing, and we knew he was up to something big. For the next couple hours, our teams got together in prayer and worship, believing that God was about to do something crazy.

The next morning came, and four of us headed back to the beach to meet up with Anthony's dad. We set out in a small fishing boat, searching the water for miles around islands and inlets. After about an hour and a half, we pulled the boat up to the shore of an island. We split up and began combing the beach. In less than five minutes, we heard Anthony's uncle yelling for us. Although I couldn't understand everything he was saying, I knew it could only mean one thing. They had found Anthony.

It took less than a minute for me to run across that small island to where Anthony's body lay, but countless thoughts ran through my head in that tiny space of time. "Is this for real? Did they really just find him? God, I know you said we would, but now it's actually happened! Am I really about to pray over a dead body? Do I really believe he's going to come back to life? Do I really want to do this?"

But in the fewer than 60 seconds that it took me to reach him, I knew the answer to all those questions was yes. Yes. Yes, this was for real. Yes, I was about to pray over a dead body. Yes, I believed he was going to come back to life. And yes, I wanted to do this. Not because it was fun or exciting or going to be a great miracle. In fact, it was the opposite. It was overwhelming and scary, and it would have been an even better miracle (I thought) if he would have been found alive. But I wanted to do this because God is a God of life--abundant life. He is the Author and Giver of Life, the Breath of Life, and he was asking us to be vessels through which he would breathe new life into someone.

So we began to pray. And plead. And beg. And declare. For two and a half hours, we were flat on our faces in the sand, asking God to do the impossible.

To give life where there was only death.

We read Scripture and declared truth. We had complete faith. We prayed. We poured out everything we possibly had in us. We worshiped the Author of Life. And two and half hours later, when Anthony's close family and friends came with a casket to take his body away, he was still dead.

Hours later, we returned to our base at Vision Nicaragua, completely spent, exhausted, depleted. But we didn't feel finished. We walked in the gate, sat down, and kept on praying. For another hour and a half, we prayed. We still believed that God could raise Anthony at any moment. A casket isn't stronger than God. But we also prayed for his family and friends and community in Candelaria. Even though Anthony was a Christian and we knew he was in heaven, we also knew that his death caused a lot of pain. So we prayed for the people who were left behind, who were grieving. We lifted them up when they were hurting too badly to stand up on their own. And we worshiped. Because in it all, God is still God.

While we had been gone all day, our teammates had been praying continuously throughout the day, taking turns making sure every single moment was covered in prayer. We continued that 24/7 prayer for the next two days, praying for those who were grieving and still believing for the impossible.

That God would give life where there was only death.

When this was all happening a year ago, and I was journaling about it, that's where it ended. Those few days passed, Anthony's body was still locked in his casket, and we left Nicaragua to move on to our next country. Seems sort of anti-climactic, doesn't it? We prayed, we believed, we asked for something crazy, something impossible. And it didn't happen.

Well, it didn't happen exactly the way we thought it would, at least. We prayed that God would give life where there was only death, and looking back a year later, I can see that God answered our prayers for life. He breathed new life into Anthony when he stood in God's presence in heaven. He breathed new life into me. He breathed new life into Anthony's family and friends. He breathed new life into his community.

A year later, I read the updates from NewSong, and I see evidence of new life in their community in Candelaria. I talk to my friend Whitney who lives there, and she tells me story after story of people whose lives have been changed because of the things God taught them through Anthony's death. Of how they know the love of the Father more deeply than they ever have. Of how it feels like, even in the midst of pain, God has breathed new life into their community. Where there was once only grief, God is raising dead hearts and spirits and bringing them back to life.

And a year later, I look at my own life and see how God breathed new life into me through that experience. Into my spirit which was once full of dead faith, he has breathed new life and belief that he is the God of the impossible. Into my heart which was once full of dead love, he has breathed in me a deep compassion for those who are hurting. That sure sounds a lot like life to me, at least the kind of life I want--one full of faith and love.

I don't know why God orchestrated things the way he did those few days. I don't know why he specifically asked us to pray over Anthony's body. I don't know why Anthony didn't come back to life. But I do know that God answered our prayers. And I absolutely know that God is still in the business of raising the dead. He is still the Author and Giver of life, the Breath of life.

And I do know that God gives life where there is only death.

I didn't want to write this blog for a lot of reasons. But in the end, none of them were good enough reasons to hold me back anymore from telling this story. God has given me a testimony that he gives life, that he raises the dead, spiritually and even physically. And even if I haven't seen it with my own eyes yet, I believe it.

"What I'm about to tell you is true. A time is coming for me to give life. In fact, it has already begun. The dead will hear the voice of the Son of God. Those who hear it will live." John 5:25

I want to share a couple videos with you that are a brief summary of the year, not just for me but for our whole squad. Thanks to my friends Emily Tuttle and Joel Dutton for creating these awesome videos! If we had World Race Academy Awards, you guys would definitely win.

Change the World: Kingdom Stories from Emily Tuttle on Vimeo.

You are making me new. from Emily Tuttle on Vimeo.

physically healed,

received salvation,

rescued from sex slavery,

given a roof over their heads,

encouraged,

challenged,

freed,

fed,

and loved.

We, not just our squad but all of you, our supporters, asked for God to work this year, and He did. He absolutely did.

I don't think God is finished, though. There are so many more lives He wants to change and work in, which is just one of the reasons that I am so excited to be squad leading in September. That's a big part of why I wanted to share these videos with you.  They are just a taste of what God has in store for upcoming squads!  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He is absolutely going to transform the lives of everyone on my new squad, and I can't wait to be a part of it. There's a saying that gets said around the World Race community a lot: We want our squad's ceiling to be the next squad's floor. Basically, we're saying that as much as we grew, as deep as we went, as challenged as we were, we want that to be just the foundation of the squads coming after us. That they would start where we left off, and grow that much more, go that much deeper, and be that much more challenged.

But it's more than that. If we take what God is doing in our lives, and just keep it to ourselves, what's the point? There are so many people around the world who need to know the love of the Father, that need to be healed and encouraged and fed and loved. There is a generation that is rising up to meet that challenge, and I am so pumped to get the chance to invest in their lives as they invest in the lives of people around the world.

"See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland."

Isaiah 43:19

If you would like to financially support me as I raise the funds needed to be a squad leader, click here.

So what's next for me? Now that I'm finished with the World Race, and I've been back in the States for a few months, what's my next step? Well, I'm glad you asked:)

I have had the chance to talk to some of you about this, but there are many that I haven't, and even for those who know, this blog might give you a little more insight into why I've chosen to do what I'm doing.

Let me start by saying that my year on the World Race was life-changing for me. It's hard to put into words everything that happened over the year or what it meant to me (although I tried in my previous blog), but the fact is that going on the World Race impacted me greatly.

I experienced different places and cultures, did things I never thought I would be able to do, and ate things I never thought I would eat.

I built deep, lasting friendships with my teammates and people in some of the countries we went to. I experienced the challenges and, ultimately, the beauty of true community.

I saw God work in incredible ways, performing miracles, transforming hearts, and being glorified through the power of love and lives that were surrendered to Him.

I discovered my identity as a child of God and how the truth of that impacts the way I live my life.

I found freedom from fear, control, lies, my expectations, others' expectations, from living the life that the world around us says we have to live.

I changed and grew so much because of the time I spent on the World Race. And I want so badly for other people to be able to change and grow and develop and discover and be challenged by going on the World Race too--which has led me to my next step, which is (drum roll please)...

Being a Squad Leader for an upcoming World Race trip!

Ok, so let me explain how this works. Every group that goes out on a particular route is called a squad. Each squad is about 50-70 people who all go to the same country at the same time. Within the squad, everyone is split into smaller teams of about 6-8 people, who live and work together each month at a particular ministry. Now there are team leaders for each team, but there are also squad leaders for the whole squad. Each squad has 2-3 people, Squad Leaders, who have done the Race already and come back to lead a new group of people out.

Squad Leaders have a different role on this, their second time on the Race. This time out, it's not about the trip necessarily. It's about the people on the squad; they are the ministry this time. Squad Leaders have the privilege, and responsibility, to set the tone for what the Race will look like for their squad. As a Squad leader, I'll have the chance to pour into a whole new group of people, to invest in them and challenge them, to speak life and identity into them, to guide them and disciple them, and to push them even further and deeper than my squad or I ever went.

And it doesn't stop there. Not only do I get to do all this, but I also get to help raise up new leaders who will do the same things. I will be on the field for four months with my squad. During that time, my other squad leaders and I will raise up new leaders from within the squad who will then take our place at the end of those four months, and we will leave the field. We'll still stay in touch with our squad after we leave, though, and we will have the chance to go back out to visit, challenge, and encourage them at their month 8 and month 11 debriefs.

I can't even tell you how excited I am about this opportunity! Squad Leading is something God started laying on my heart back in month 7 of my trip, and He has confirmed it time and time again, so it's something that I absolutely know I'm supposed to do. My heart is already tied to my new squad, and I don't even know who they are yet! I can't wait to get to know them and start pouring into them and watching them as they "get it" and start growing! This is such a huge privilege to be able to do this, and I am so humbled and honored that I have the chance to do it.

So now you know what's next:) But here are a few more details to pull it all together...

When are you doing this?

I will be leading a September 2012 squad. So I will be leaving sometime around the beginning of September, and I will be back around the end of December/beginning of January. Then I will also be gone for about a week at the end of April 2013 and July 2013 to join them at their debriefs.

Which squad are you leading?

There are three different September squads going out on three different routes, and I don't know yet which one I will be leading. During the next few months, as the leadership at AIM continues to choose other squad leaders, they will determine who will work best with whom and with which squad, and they will place us with our squads. So I'll keep everyone updated as I find out more.

Will you be going back to the same countries that you went to before?

I have no idea. Some of the routes do go to some countries that I've been to, and some don't. We'll just have to wait and see!

Do you have to raise support for this trip?

Yes, I do. I need to raise around $6,500 to do this. I know that many of you supported me financially last year on my race, and I am so so so thankful for that. Thank you for believing in me and my heart and for sacrificing to help make the World Race possible for me. Now, I'm asking if you will consider supporting me financially once again. Will you support me and my heart to invest in a new group of people who are hungry for the things of God?

If you would like to support me financially, you can do so by clicking the "Support Me" link at the top left of this page. That link includes instructions for making donations online, as well as through the mail.

Thank you to everyone who has been a part of this journey with me. I'm excited to continue this journey, and I hope that you will keep walking beside me in it:)

So many times since I've been back, I've been asked, "How was your year?" Well, it's really difficult to sum up an entire year in one answer, but these are a few words to describe what the World Race was for me...

Amazing

Challenging

Incredible

Life-changing

Difficult

Fun

Freeing

Absolutely worth it.

Also, here are a few numbers to give you an idea of what our year on the race looked like:

No I haven't dropped off the face of the earth, even though it may seem like it since I haven't posted a blog in several months. I didn't get left behind in the jungle of one of many countries never to be heard from again. I am no longer stranded in a remote village in the bush somewhere with no way to communicate.

I am back in the US, and I have so much to tell all of you.

But first of all, let me apologize for how long it's been since I last posted. I'm so sorry--I could list a whole bunch of excuses, but I will spare you all that, and just say sorry. All of you--all my supporters, everyone who reads my blog, everyone who has been praying for me and keeping up with me all year--you are all so important to me, and I want you to know that I value you and that you have been as much a part of this journey as I have.

I will be posting more blogs in the weeks to come to let you know where I'm at now that I'm back and also blogs that catch you up on how my last two months of ministry went. There are stories that I want to share with you about the people we met and the places we were, and even though I'm not in those places anymore, their stories are still important and deserve to be told, so I hope you will still want to read them.

But before I get to all the updates, the most important thing I want to say is

THANK YOU!

Each of you has made this year what it was through your prayers, financial support, encouraging words, or reading my blog. This year has impacted my life in so many ways, and of course the lives of so many people around the world. Thank you for believing in me and believing in this mission. I couldn't have done any of this without you.

So in the words of all my new friends around the world...

Thank You!

Muchas Gracias

(Spanish)

Asante Sana

(Swahili)

Waybale

(Lugandan)

Khob khun ka

(Thai)

Cam on

(Vietnamese)

Akun

(Cambodian)

Just to give you a glimpse into what life in Africa is like...

Friday

8:00am-Wake up, get ready, eat a typical (Americanized) African breakfast-a piece of white bread with peanut butter and bananas

9:00-Our scheduled time to leave for today's ministry. We are supposed to be heading to a Massai village to visit with them and share the gospel. (This is after having planned for this trip for over a week and having it be canceled every day.)

10:00-Our actual departure time. Start the 2 mile walk to the town center in Mailimoja.

10:27-Arrive at the town taxi park. Haggle with bus drivers to get a good price. Fend off vendors of apples, cashews, chips, oranges, corn on the cob, pop, water, muffins, and cookies. This is how fast food works in small town Tanzania-they come to you with buckets of these things.

10:45-Finally jump on a bus. Where we're going, none of us knows. But thankfully, we have Pastor Nathaniel with us. He'll get us where we need to be.

11:15-Wish for an ipod to help pass the hours we're going to spend on some form of transportation today. Unfortunately, the race has taken the lives of both ipods that I began with. Try to be thankful that God is teaching me to let go of material possessions.

12:45-Pull over to the side of the road by a few fruit and vegetable stands and jump off the bus. Pastor Nathaniel starts walking towards the small town in front of us, and we follow.

12:52-Nancy, Emily, and I hide under the shade of what we think is a hotel. The sun is blazing hot in Tanzania.

1:03-Pastor Nathaniel calls us over. We are going to visit the home village of a Massai boy that he just met on the side of the road.

1:12-Turn off the highway onto a bumpy, windy dirt road. It is hot, desert-like, with cactus and tumbleweed-looking plants all around. Welcome to the African bush.

 

1:30-The motorcycles drop us off at what looks like an abandoned school building. We start hiking farther into the African bush.

1:42-We pass a stick frame of a building. This is the church for all the Massai people for miles around.

1:47-Sit down to talk with our new friend, a Massai father who is over 100 years old. We are blessed by his wisdom and knowledge gained over many years. We hope to bless him as well with our prayers.

2:08-Resume walking even farther into the African bush. We ask our guide if there are any wild animals around here. He tells us that there didn't used to be, but just within the last week, a lion had been spotted. We're not sure whether to be excited or scared.

2:20-We reach the home of a young Massai warrior. These days "warrior" means not only being charged with protecting their people, but also protecting and passing on their traditions and lifestyle in the midst of a rapidly changing, modern world.

3:00-The time we are supposed to be back at the abandoned schoolhouse to be picked up by our motorcycle drivers.

3:30-We say goodbye to our new friends and start our trek back through the African bush.

3:45-Our motorcycle taxis pick us up along the way, and we are speeding over the bumps and holes and through the water and mud to get back to the main town.

4:00-The time we were originally supposed to be at home for the day.

4:30-We say goodbye to our guide for the day and jump back in a taxi bus to go back home.

6:42-Arrive in Mailimoja and immediately jump on the back of some more motorcycles to take us home. We're on a tight schedule now.

6:52-Hop off the bikes and run inside to grab a quick bite to eat and pack. We are leaving tonight to go to Morogoro because tomorrow is our off day and we are going on a safari in the morning.

7:00-The time that we were supposed to be getting on a bus to go to Morogoro.

7:25-We leave the house and speed walk to the town taxi park. It only takes us 25 minutes instead of the usual 30.

8:00-The time our bus is supposed to come through to pick us up.

8:47-The time the bus actually comes through to pick us up.

8:52-Rummage through my bag to find earplugs. They reduce the decibel level of the blaring Bollywood music video remakes of The Sound of Music and Grease enough that I shouldn't be deaf at the end of the bus ride.

8:53-Once again, mourn the loss of my ipod.

9:00-Wonder why our bus has been stopped in the middle of the road for several minutes. I look out the windows only to see that we are closed in on both sides by semis. We are close enough to touch them. Something is wrong here.

9:17-After much yelling and craning to see out the windows by our fellow passengers and what sounds and looks like a near fistfight or riot outside, we find out what the problem is. Our bus hit the mirror of one of the semis beside us. There's no insurance here. This could be a long night.

10:15-The Lord intervenes and somehow brings things to a resolution. We're back on our way. Time to put the earplugs back in and attempt to sleep. African buses are not made for sleeping or comfort. At all.

10:30-Our original ETA.

Saturday

12:45am-Our actual time of arrival. Thankfully we are staying with another team for the night, and they have patiently waited to pick us up. We jump in more taxis to get to their house.

1:00-Arrive at their house.

1:06-I'm asleep.

5:55-Wake up call.

6:20-Our safari van is here to pick us up-on time! As we drive to the park, I am struck at the beauty of this morning and this place.

7:45-We pass a sign that says "Danger: Wild Animals for the next 50 KM"

8:00-We arrive at Mikumi National Park. Our safari hasn't even started yet, and we have already passed baboons, impala, and elephants.

9:27-Meet up with elephants, zebras, crocodiles, and hippos at the local watering hole.

 

 

 

12:37-Eat lunch with a pride of lions. We have pb&j's and bananas. They have elephant.

 

2:30-Leave the park and head back to Morogoro to pick up our things. Ask if there's a market nearby where we can buy souvenirs.

4:15-Arrive at the "market." Turns out it's a supermarket. Buy chocolate instead of souvenirs.

4:30-Get back, pack up our things, and hang out with the girls of Team Transformed for a little bit.

5:30-Head to the bus station.

5:47-Get on the bus and hope it's the right one. We are told we are leaving in 15 minutes.

6:03-We haven't left yet. Instead, we are giving in to the vendors who are calling to us from outside the windows and buying apples, cashews, chips, and even baskets. We need to leave before we buy everything.

6:45-We finally pull out of the bus station.

6:47-More ridiculously loud music videos. Time for the earplugs again.

6:49-Pray that somehow an ipod would miraculously appear in my hands. It doesn't happen. Pray for sleep to miraculously take over my body. It doesn't happen. This is going to be a long ride.

9:15-We watch as our stop flies past our windows. Apparently, because we can't pronounce the name of our town correctly, the bus driver refuses to stop. However, he does let us off at the weigh station about a mile down the road.

9:30-Ten mzungus start walking down the highway back towards town. All I can do is enjoy the incredible African night sky and laugh because TIA (This Is Africa).

9:38-Our pastor picks us up and drives us the rest of the way home. So thankful I didn't have to walk those three miles.

10:30-After a quick snack and shower, I drop onto my sleeping pad, exhausted. I humbly say a prayer of thanks. For the umpteenth time on this race, I ask myself "Is this really my life?" It's tiring, and nothing ever turns out as planned, but man, I am so blessed, and God is so good!

We had met couple of the boys the first day we were in Busia at the market. One of them had come up to us and talked for a few minutes about who we were and where we were from. When we ended the conversation and turned to leave, one of the boys, Charlie, had grabbed my hand, pulled me back, looked straight in my eyes, and said with desperation in his voice, "You pray for me!" as he placed my hand on his head. Surprised by his strong desire for prayer, in that moment, Charlie and all the other street boys stole my heart.

We hung out with Charlie and more of his friends another morning at their home, the town dump. We came that morning with a few loaves of bread to share breakfast with them. When we arrived right after sunrise, there were only about 4 or 5 boys standing around a pile of burning trash. As we started handing out bread, it was like they started appearing out of thin air. Within ten minutes, I looked around and there were at least 25-30 boys gathered around us, devouring their two pieces of bread and shaking our hands with huge smiles on their faces. It was early in the morning, so most of them were just waking up and hadn't had a chance to get high off of glue and fuel fumes yet. I could see the emptiness and pain in their eyes that hadn't been numbed yet for the day. We spent the next several hours just hanging out with them, talking with them, and praying over them. When we left, we told them we would be back to pick them up for church on Sunday.

Sunday morning came, and I wasn't sure if they would remember that we were coming for them. When we got to the dump, would any of them be there, or would they already be lying along the side of the road somewhere, already out of it and high for the day? We walked up to the dump and greeted about ten boys. They all smelled of glue fumes. Some of them were lying in the garbage, sleeping. We told them we were on our way to church, and we wanted them to come with us.

"Yeah! Let's go pray! Let's go sing to Jesus!" was their response. So seven of the boys decided to come with us. We walked along the dirt roads toward the church, past the staring eyes and curious looks. We were quite the unusual sight to most people in the small town of Busia. Not only were we a couple of mzungu (white) girls, but we were walking with a group of dirty, smelly, high street boys. We were talking with them and laughing with them, instead of running away from them, afraid that they would hurt us or steal from us.

For the whole twenty minute walk to the church, my heart was anxious, not because of the boys, but because I wasn't sure what exactly we would encounter when we arrived. When we got there, how would people react? Would they welcome them into the church with open arms, without judgment of their dirty, ripped clothes and their lingering scent of glue fumes? Or would they turn their faces and hearts away from these boys because they weren't cleaned up and in their "Sunday best"? I prayed silently the whole time that God's overwhelming, unconditional love would be on display this morning for these boys to experience. That this morning, the church would really be the church--not just a building where people congregate, but a family of believers who are the hands and feet of Jesus, the body of Christ, the love of God with flesh on.

When we walked onto the school grounds where the church met, I could tell the boys immediately got apprehensive about going in. They weren't sure how people would react to them either. As we kept encouraging them to come in with us, they followed us in slowly, not sure of their places in this group of people. They sat down in the back and started clapping and singing, joining in with the worship that had already begun. Immediately, one of the pastors, Joshua, came walking back towards them. He had a huge smile on his face and held out his hands to each of the boys, welcoming them into the family. God's love was written all over his face as he showed them to the front, to the seats that are normally given to the elderly or special guests. These boys were their special guests for the morning. The rest of the congregation smiled at them, shook their hands, greeted them. There were no judgmental stares or condemning looks. There was just love. Relief flooded my heart as I thanked God that my prayers had been answered.

The rest of the service I mostly spent praying for the boys--that God's Spirit would fall on their lives, that His word would sink so deeply into their hearts, that today would be a day of deliverance. I prayed that God's words would sink in even if they weren't really listening, that Jesus would show up to them in their dreams, calling them into a healing, redemptive relationship with Him. Some of the boys were completely focused in on Pastor Rosemary's words, while others fell asleep on the school benches. Some of the boys went outside and slept in the grass, while others stole out of the building for a couple minutes, only to come back in reeking of the strong stench of glue fumes. But instead of being told to leave or be more respectful of the church service, the boys were allowed to rest or even get high in a place that was a sanctuary for them, where they could have a few hours of uninterrupted peace and quiet in safety and cleanliness instead of danger and garbage.

This was a true picture of the body of Christ, of the church, the way that God intended it--not sending people away because they didn't fit our picture of what church should look like or telling them they had to change to be more like us before they were welcome in God's house. This was God's love in action, meeting these boys right where they were at, in the midst of their dirtiness and pain and emptiness.

After the service, we spent another hour or two just hanging out with them, taking pictures, and loving them. This was our last day in Busia; we were jumping in a taxi to leave in just a few hours. So I knew when we walked them back to the dump and gave them hugs and said goodbye, that that would probably be the last time I would see them. My heart was breaking as I walked away, wanting nothing more than to be able to go visit them the next morning and the next and the next; to be able to invest in them and speak truth and life and worth into them; to tell and show them the truth of their identity in Christ over and over until they finally realize that they are children of God who He desperately loves.

This is one of the hardest parts of the World Race--having your heart and emotions stolen by something or someone or someplace only to have to walk away from them after a few short weeks. I know that God has plans for those boys that aren't contingent on my being there. I know that my prayers for them are still powerful and effective even if I can't actually lay hands on them.

But as much as I know  these things, my heart hasn't quite caught up with my mind yet.

Pray for these boys--for Charlie, Dennis, Cody, John, Godfrey, and all the rest of the boys in Busia that call the dump and the streets their home. Pray for deliverance from the chains of addiction. Pray for provision of food and clothes and shelter. Pray that the church would continue to really be the church there and reach out to them in love. Pray that God would burden people's hearts to invest in these boys so deeply that change is inevitable. Pray for redemption and freedom and hope.

"While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew's house, many tax collectors and sinners came and ate with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, 'Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?' On hearing this, Jesus said, 'It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

Matthew 9:10-13

I have a new name, and it is Namukisa.

One sunny afternoon early this month, we were at New Hope Orphanage loving, playing, laughing, singing, and dancing with the incredible children who live there. After some time with them, they looked at us and decided that we needed Ugandan names. Although I was getting pretty used to hearing their enthusiastic shouts of "Auntie Irene, Auntie Irene!", this sounded like a great idea to me because virtually no one in any of the eight countries we've been to can pronounce my name correctly, so a new name might be helpful. They went around to each person and gave them a beautiful, unique Ugandan name. They came to me, looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds and then declared, "Namukisa!"

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means 'the blessed one' or 'the one with many blessings'," they explained with huge smiles on their faces.

For the rest of this month, it's like God has been saying to me, "I love you so much, and I am just pouring out blessings on your life. Do you recognize them when I give them to you?"

So I have intentionally been on the lookout this month for blessings, for the things that God gives me just because he loves me that much. Things like...

a new team of incredible, strong women of God who love me, challenge me, put up with me, laugh with me, and want to share this journey with me,

hanging out with the most beautiful, love-filled children at New Hope Orphanage, hearing their voices blend perfectly as they sing worship songs and dance with a joy that is contagious,

 

 

being invited into homes to share the gospel with people who have never heard it before, getting to share with them the unending and unconditional love of God, and then leave with a new brothers and sisters in Christ,

 

listening to and learning from our contact, Pastor Rosemary, a powerful, anointed woman of God, who hasn't let the many trials and sufferings in her life hold her down,

 

enjoying God's marvelous creation in the beauty of a delicate flower, the soothing sound of thunder and rain on the roof, and the power and serenity of the Nile River,

 

 

getting to visit friends in Kampala from when I was in Uganda four years ago, savoring a couple days of familiar faces and a real "American" home,

 

and knowing that I have amazing family, friends, and supporters at home who are thinking about me and praying for me.

 

 

It's true. I am incredibly blessed. I have been so blessed this month by these things and so much more. I have done nothing to deserves all these blessings in my life, but I have a heavenly Father who loves to give good gifts to his children, a Father who wants to demonstrate his love in tangible ways for his children to experience. And I pray that I am living my life with such joy and thankfulness that everyone I cross paths with will have the same impression as the children at New Hope-that I am living in God's blessings-and they will walk away blessed because of the presence of God in my life.

Ok, I'm going to be honest. The World Race is not exactly what everyone thinks it is when they sign up for it.

Ask anyone who has been a part of the race, and the majority of people will tell you that one of the main reasons they signed up was for the adventure of it--the chance to travel around the world and experience exciting new cultures, try new foods, do daring things like jump off bridges into the rushing waters below, see places that you've only ever seen in really cool magazine pictures before.

 

And then there's not just the adventure of traveling--there's also the adventure of spreading the gospel, telling people about Jesus, bringing the kingdom of heaven to earth. You read blogs about people being healed and drug addicts giving their lives to Christ and street children being rescued from horrendous circumstances. There is the adventure of doing things like feeding starving children, bringing electricity or clean, running water to places for the first time, rescuing women out of brothels and the sex industry.

 

And all of those things are incredibly exciting--really, they are. I have been so blessed on this journey so far to be able to do a lot of things and see so many people and places that I never would have thought I would in my life. I have had the joy of leading someone to Christ for the first time and praying for miracles and healing and seeing the power of God literally change entire communities.

But the truth is that often our time is spent doing the unadventuresome things--like going on a million and one door-to-door house visits or becoming a human concrete mixer or planting and weeding an entire corn field on your hands and knees. And that even the things that seem like an "adventure," often involve pain or struggles or a lot of hard work.

 

In the article "We Need Boring Christians" (which is a really good article, by the way--you should read the whole thing), Andrew Byers offers some wise words:

"Many of us want to do something awesome, something epic. We tend to think that the more normal, the less "spiritual." So it is quite possible that our aspirations to be radical stem from dangerous ambitions to perform biography-worthy feats of global glory.  

But radical discipleship is not adventure tourism.  

Following Jesus is not to be romanticized through impressive Facebook status updates or photos of exotic places on our blog. Discipleship is often ugly, messy and painful. Faithful service will regularly lead us into dull labors and bewildering struggles that would make unexciting press. To romanticize social justice or cross-cultural evangelism is to promote an idealism that will be inevitably vaporized on the field, inadvertently leading to burnout and cynicism."

Sometimes it's hard for us to see how the things we're doing really matter-the things that aren't exciting or an adventure. I mean, that's a big part of why we chose to do this right? We came to do something grand, epic, something that would change the world.

But what I'm finding more and more is that although that idealism is an important aspect of our motivation, it's not going to get you very far if it's all you're going off of. We do need to have the belief and hope that what we are doing is making a difference, that we are bringing the kingdom of heaven to earth. But we also have to be able to see reality--that change happens in the little things--in the "dull labors and bewildering struggles that would make unexciting press." Real change happens in the things that probably aren't going to make for an exciting blog--things like sitting around a dinner table and sharing rice, potatoes, cabbage, and conversation with a family of Muslims. Or helping little girls with their homework so their education can give them an opportunity to do something with their life besides sell their bodies.

 

Or coming home with blistered hands from "mowing the lawn" with a a dull machete, but knowing that you just helped clear the land for a new church to be built.

 

Change happens when I smile and respond for the thousandth time to children jumping up and down yelling, "Mzungu, mzungu, howa you?" (Mzungu is the swahili word for "white person." It is also apparently appropriate to make it the name of every single white person in Africa.) The joy on my face when I look at those kids is powerful; it has the power to heal a broken heart or offer hope to a hurting spirit.

 

True change--the kind that really changes lives and changes the world--can only happen through love. It's nothing grand or epic or adventuresome. It's just love. It's living life and loving people, whether I'm at home in America or living in a hut in the African countryside. When Jesus came to earth, he changed the lives of the people he was around. Sure, many times he did that through crazy miracles like giving sight to the blind or controlling the weather. But the most amazing thing that Jesus did was just love people right where they were. He ate dinner with tax collectors and prostitutes. He went fishing with his friends. He washed the dirty, dusty feet of his disciples. He lived life with people and just loved them in the process.

The truth is that the World Race is incredible. It's exciting and an adventure and the opportunity of a lifetime. But what really makes it so meaningful, and really what makes life meaningful, are all the little things that seem dull or unexciting, but that are done in and through the power of love. And you don't have to go on some marvelous adventure or around the world to love people. People are the same everywhere; cultures and customs might be different, but people are not. They just want to be loved. And loving people is the most exciting, grand, epic thing we can do.

 

Community. Webster's defines community as "people with common interests living in a particular area." Sounds simple enough, right?

The World Race has given me a completely different definition of community.

Now, there are definitely plenty of good times with your team--lots of laughs and funny moments and adventures. You are traveling around the world and making some of the best memories of your life with these people.

But community isn't easy. There are moments and days and even weeks when I have been tired of my team and the people I was with, when they were driving me crazy and I didn't think I could stand to be around them one more minute, when I prayed, "God I don't think I can handle this much longer." And I'm sure the people on my team have had the same thoughts about me.

But it's in those moments that God has taught me what community is really all about.

It's showing grace even when it's ridiculously difficult. It's being completely vulnerable about your sins and faults and weaknesses and trusting that people will love you anyways. It's letting go of what you want in order to put someone else before you. It's standing behind someone and supporting them when they fall down and caring enough to pick them back up.

My team has been through a lot, good and bad--several team member changes, loving each other, not being able to stand each other, being shut in a room for three hours and told not to come out until we worked things out, being completely unified, forgiving each other for messing up big time, facing major spiritual questions and challenges to our faith.

But for as challenging as it has been at times, I wouldn't trade any of it for a minute.

Through this community, God has shown me what it means to love and be loved by other people.

But he has also showed me that community is just a picture of our relationship with him, what it means to love him and be loved by him. The same things that community is about,

are the same things that our relationship with God is about.

Community may be difficult, but it's also the tool that God uses to help us grow and change and know him better. So even if we might want to punch each other in the face sometimes,

the love and lessons that we gain from community are more than worth it in the end.