They lied.

I showed up to film and found out we were going a different direction.  One that required me to be real.  And honest.  And raw.  

And I panicked.  

I didn't want to think back on my college self.  The real one, not the one I choose to remember in my mind. Because I had too much to say and not enough time to think and while I loved college, there are SO many things I wish I'd known then.

Like the fact that hair dye out of a box in a community bathroom is never a good idea.

That there were other tables in the dining hall besides the first one on the right.  And the people that sat at them weren't really all that scary.

Or that even though my grades might not matter that much in the long run, the work ethic I developed during those years would stay with me a lot longer.

Sometimes the lead in the play isn't actually the best part.

I'd end up with far more questions than answers and that's really ok.

That phrase, "It's like riding a bike?"  Yeah, that didn't come back to me so easily.

Running away doesn't actually solve anything.

My dreams were far too small.  I've already outlived them.

I couldn't think fast enough to say all of that in this video.  (That they did an incredible job with, by the way.  The editing magic part isn't a joke.)  But I am worth more than I ever thought I was.  The world is truly bigger than I could ever have imagined (and smaller too.)  And that boy really did break up with me in an email.  But maybe that's because it's the only way I'd listen.

Check out the video we made and leave me a comment.  What would you say to your college self?

And technically, I guess that's exactly what grace is.  A second (or third or fifth or 200th) chance that we don't deserve.  And it is generous and we are grateful.  But somehow, that doesn't actually sound all that appealing.  The words are all right.  The definition is accurate.  Except that kind of grace sounds dirty.  And ugly.  And actually not very much like grace at all.

Because I am willing to extend grace.  To overlook what's been done (or not done), to forgive slights and oversights.  To write off transgressions and failures.  

Just this once...

but don't let it happen again.

It's like I've got the "Go and sin no more" part down pat.  But I've missed the "neither do I condemn you" part.  Or actually, maybe it's not that I've missed either part, it's just that I've got them backwards. Somehow I've lived a variation of grace that says, "I can forgive you for this as long as you learn your lesson and change your ways and don't ever let this happen again.  I'll give you something that you don't deserve now, as long as you pay up later.  I showed you grace, now earn it."  

Ew.

When did grace start to be contingent on repentance?  I would never say, "Repent and I'll show you grace."

But I'm pretty sure I say, "I showed you grace, now repent" all the time.  And when did I start to deserve a medal for extending grace somewhere?

Either way you slice it, Grace dependent on repentance or change or gratefulness or understanding or, well, on anything... isn't actually grace at all.

I put on the right clothes (layers to be cool as we hiked, but keep warm at the top of the peak.)  I packed water.  I put on my tennis shoes and got out of the car early on a July morning.  And we started walking.  We'd taken all of about 20 steps before I was out of breath.  The altitude was already killing my lungs and the peak was so far in the distance that I felt certain "it" couldn't be the one we were climbing.  

It was so. far. away.

Are you getting this?  It was far.

And I was out of breath.

And I was mad.  Like wouldn't talk to either of my friends for a good two hours because I was so mad.  Because it didn't seem to be getting any closer.  And I was still panting and my lungs were burning.  And it did NOT seem like a good time.  They chatted away and I walked a few steps behind them seething.  And not saying a word.  I gave them the silent treatment.  They didn't seem to notice.  

But gradually that mountain got closer.  And at some point I realized that even though it wasn't getting any easier, it wasn't actually getting any harder either.  And that had been my fear all along.  If I was already dying after 20 steps, how bad would it be after 50?  And 500?  And 2000?  I didn't think I wanted to find out.  But remarkably enough, I was still putting one foot in front of the other and slowly but surely,that peak was getting closer.  

And then we made it to the top.  And it was unbelievable.

And I keep thinking about dreams.  All the things we want to do and be and create and live out.  I want to see orphans find families.  And I want to see women freed from forced prostitution.  And I want to see people in Kenya have enough food to eat, and wars come to an end and sick people healed.  But the truth is that every time I start to take a step, the problem seems bigger and the issue seems farther away.  Even more out of reach.  And my steps don't seem to be getting me any closer.  And sometimes I can't even tell which mountain it is I'm supposed to be walking towards.

But I'm realizing that most of us don't accidentally fall into changing the world.  We don't wake up one day and realize we've done it.  We take one small step at a time.  We make one small choice.  And then another.  And then another.  Because we all want to get to the top of the mountain.  But I don't usually want to love the person that's right in front of me.  I don't usually want to sacrifice more.  I don't usually want to get off my couch or interrupt my plans or change my routine.  It's one of those things that sounds really cool to say you've done (yeah, I climbed a 14er), but doesn't actually sound like that much fun to do. 

And it's easy for me to romanticize what other people are doing.  Read about the mountaintops and peaks and think that they actually get to do the cool stuff.  But then I remember that they wake up every morning and decide what they're going to do that day just like I do.  So today, I'm doing one small thing.  Believing that with every step, I am getting closer.

And I know it's cliche...but I don't care.

But that's not why we send teams there.  We go there because behind the markets selling pearls and purses, across the street from the beaches and restaurants is a strip called Bangla Road.  And on Bangla Road there are no secrets.  There's no camouflage to protect the tourist from what is going on behind closed doors.  Signs advertise exactly what you can buy.  Women dance on bars along the streets.  Neon lights and loud music might sound bright and cheerful, but they are anything but.

Women are for sale here.

Sex is for sale here.

Innocence is for sale here.

Virginity is for sale here.

Passion is for sale here.

and hope is stolen here.

light is extinguished here.

dreams are killed here.

So that is why we go.  Because we believe that every little girl should be able to respect her mother.  Because we believe that every woman deserves dignity.  And because we believe that we carry the power of the Holy Spirit with us when we walk onto those streets and into those bars and onto the beaches.  

It is draining.  It is exhausting and it is hard work.  It's hard to believe things for women who've stopped believing them for themselves.  It's hard to convince women that freedom is possible.  It's hard to love the men who take advantage of these women night after night after night.  And so our Real Life team that's there now has fought to stay hopeful, fought to keep sowing into the ministry there, fought to reach out to stony faces each night.  

But last week something happened and they were invited to play in one of the bars where they've been ministering.  So they played what they knew and they worshipped Jesus in the middle of pole dances and strippers.  The speakers stopped pulsing with the heavy bass and calm invaded the chaos for a few moments.  And as they sang, hope returned.  Light invaded.  Dreams grew.

Check out the full story here.

Today.  While most of us go quietly on with our normal Saturday activities, almost 150 young men and women will set foot on American soil for the first time in up to 11 months.  Two World Race Squads and our fall Real Life teams all return home today.

 

Our Kenya team said goodbye to the IDP camp where they've been working all semester.  Check out this video from their last day there.  Otto is 5-6 years old and is being raised by his 14 year old sister after both his mother and father have abandoned him.  This is the first time he's owned a pair of shoes.

 

 

The proper way to start a blog is with a catchy sentence or unbelievable fact that will get your attention and cause you to become so sucked in that you can't help but read the whole thing.  I'm usually pretty good at that.  Or at the very least, I'll usually have a catchy title that might grab your attention.

 

So I probably should have started this by telling you that there are 143 million orphans in the world right now.  Or that 385 million people live on less than $1 per day.  And that 27 million people are slaves today.  But the problem with those "catchy statistics" is that we've heard them before.  Or if we haven't heard those exact ones, we've heard another one just as staggering and overwhelming.  Sure there are still some who are remain blissfully unaware, but for most of you that follow my blog, these are not new ideas.

 

I recently heard someone say that this generation of college students/young adults is so over-aware that it's almost become paralyzing.  They could rattle off these statistics at the drop of a hat.  They've grown up following Invisible Children and seeing Compassion International children staring back from their television screens.  They're incredibly cause-driven and pretty socially aware. They're not impressed with another unbelievable fact placed to get their attention.

 

But what they are desperate for is someone to tell them what they can do.  For someone to give them the chance to move from Aware to Action.  To see the realities of this world with their own eyes.  To actually get their own hands dirty.  To put their money where their mouth is and go. do. something.

 

So we've launched the ...this is real life campaign.  To change these statistics into people and to turn awareness into action.  Check out these stories below and see how college students can change the world.  At least for Esther.  Or Lee.  Or Peter.

 

    

 

Ok, true confession.  I might be the kind of person that has quite a few pet peeves.  It's not that everybody else is wrong, it's just that my way is usually better.  I'm kidding.  Kind of.  But out of all of my many pet peeves, there is one that stands out above the rest.

 

Baggage claim.  I fly kind of a lot.  I have finally reached Delta Medallion status, which I should have reached a lot sooner, but actually, don't get me started on that.  You'll thank me.  Anyway, I spend a decent amount of time waiting for bags.  And if you fly internationally into the Atlanta airport, you'll know that you actually have to wait for your bags twice there.  Yep, get off the plane, wait a ridiculously long time to retrieve your luggage, make your way through customs, RECHECK recently retrieved bags, go upstairs to normal baggage claim and wait to get them one more time.  It's kind of ridiculous--and yet, not the most frustrating part.

 

If you're smart* like me, you know exactly the right place to stand on the train to put you closest to the exit so that you can be the first person on the escalator and avoid the bottleneck of the rest of the people trying to get on.  You know which of the 3 escalators to take to the top putting you closest to the side your bags will be on.  And you're probably able to check the carousel number while continuing to walk.  All of these skills make you (well, me) one of the first to arrive at the final baggage claim. 

 

Now, here's where the real pet peeviness begins.  There are about to be hundreds of people crammed around this one small carousel waiting for their giant suitcases to appear.  As one of the first to arrive, you could place yourself directly in front of the mouth, knees pressed up against the metal to ensure the shortest possible wait time for your bag.  However, we all know that doing that just leads to everyone cramming as close to the belt as possible, squeezing in minuscule cracks and claiming every square inch of prime real estate.  And then, all the poor schmucks who don't know all those time-saving tricks end up stuck outside the circle peering between heads, fighting their way through when their bag arrives, and knocking over small children in their attempt to get it off the belt and through the crowd. 

 

 

 

 

How about everybody takes one giant step backward.  Mother, may I?  Yes, you may.  And then, magically, more people fit around the carousel.  More people can see the bags as they arrive.  And then, you simply step forward when you see your suitcase, take it off the belt without bruising the knees of 5 people around you, and easily roll your way through the crowd.

 

We can make this happen folks.  We can change the baggage claim culture.  And if you see me standing on top of it with a megaphone sometime soon, well, now you'll know why.

 

What are some of your pet peeves?

 

(*And if you're now wondering if I'm aware of how OCD I seem to be, yes, yes I am.)

It's hard to tell this story without sounding like I'm repeating myself and you might think I've accidentally reposted a blog from a few months ago.  But if it sounds familiar, keep reading, because you are the ones who will appreciate this the most.

 

Our most recent Real Life launch sent a group of 10 back to the town of Kijabe, Kenya.  And much like before, their feet had barely touched African soil before Pastor Simon loaded them up and sent them into the bush.  When they arrived and set up camp with the Masaai tribe, they found themselves in the middle of the hot, dry desert, where they once again hadn't seen rain for months.  Actually, not since the last team had left.  Drought is not uncommon there, however, the effects of going so long without rain were starting to show themselves in the land and the people.

 

This team, however, remembered that the January group had found themselves in the same situation, and they remembered how God brought the rains.  And so, this team, like the team before them, prayed.  They were desperate to see God show up like they knew he had before, and desperate to see this dry land's thirst quenched once again.  And sure enough, that very day it started to rain.  It rained every single day that they were in the bush.  There were hard rains, light rains, storms and drizzles, but when they left just a day ago, the rain hadn't stopped.

Apparently we've developed quite the reputation there because the pastor told the group, 

 

"When AIM comes, the rains come.  When you pray, God answers your prayers."

 

 I think they like us there.

 

 

On Friday, I hopped on my first plane in over two months (that might be a record since 2008!) and made my way to Dublin, Ireland to join up with all our current racers for a week of worship and teaching.  We're holding our second annual Awakening conference for about 400 racers and guests and YOU can watch from the comfort of your own home! (Although, Ireland's not too shabby.)

 

Check us out online to watch live streaming video at 5 am and 2 pm EST or click the video on that page to watch previous sessions.  You might want to jump ahead on some of the videos to about 30 minutes in when we began the live coverage of each session.  We'd love for you to join us!

 

http://theworldrace.org/?tab=awakening&subtab=livefeed

 

I didn't really think I could be surprised anymore.  I didn't think there was a picture or a story that would shock me.  I didn't know there could be more darkness or hopelessness than what I've seen.  I've stared into a child's eyes while he fought for his life.  I've sat literally in the dumps with women who call piles of trash home.  I've seen the scars on bodies that have been beaten into submission over and over again.

 

But this story has destroyed me.  It's almost made worse by the fact that I'm reading it from my comfortable chair, behind my very own desk, looking out my big, bright window--so far removed from it that I have to force myself to imagine it to believe that it's real.

 

We have a team of 24 college students in Uganda right now.  They've gotten malaria, made it through the bombings in Kampala (they're fine!), and all the other realities that come with life in a third world country.  And last week they worked with Kyampisi village an hour or so outside of Kampala.

 

That's where they met Allan.  A precocious seven year old boy who immediately stole their hearts.  And then they learned his story.  A year ago, this then six year old child was kidnapped on his way home from school.  His kidnappers had been to a witchdoctor who told them they needed to make a child sacrifice before he could help them.  So they found Allan.  They stabbed him in the neck.  They castrated him.  They put an axe in his skull.  And then they left him.  Hours later, he was found whimpering in a pool of his own blood.  If I didn't believe in a God who redeems all things, it would almost seem cruel that he was left alive.  But he is alive.  And he's been healing well over the past year.  Tomorrow he has surgery to rebuild his skull that's just been closed with skin and tissue for the past year.

 

I don't want to imagine this story.  I don't want to believe that it's true and I don't want to know that these things are going on.   But since they are going on, I definitely don't want to sit behind my desk and not do anything about it.  

 

Would you join me in praying for him?  On Wednesday, July 14th, he'll get one step closer to being healed.  We're praying for complete healing physically, emotionally and spiritually.  2 of our Real Life girls in Uganda are committed to sponsoring him so that he can stay at the Kyampisi home.

 

It is unbelievable to me that these things happen in our world.  Unbelievable that such darkness exists that one human being could do this to another.  And, yet, even more unbelievable that God can redeem even situations like these.  And that he can use Allan's story to change the world.  Kyampisi is launching the 'End Child Sacrifice' Campaign.  Check them out at www.kyampisi.com.

 

What is unbelievable to you?  What realities are you determined to change?  And how is God redeeming even the worst situations?  I need to be reminded of those things today.