Driving into Training Camp felt like a familiar old friend I’d met a thousand other times before. As I carried my immoderately heavy bags towards the cheerful, welcoming crowd of onlookers, the only thing that came to mind was that this next week would be reminiscent of the dozens of experiences I’d had over the years, so presumably similar to the one I was walking into. My nerves were nonexistent. My confidence was high. My expectations minimal at best. This was camp. And if there was anything I knew well, it was that nearly all camps, no matter their differences, were the same at the core.

Or, so I thought…   

After years of traveling the country working for camps geared towards rambunctious young children all the way up to charismatic senior citizens, I unwittingly concluded that the only difference the World Race training camp would bring to my repertoire of camp experience would be that instead of leading as a self-assured member of staff, I would for once become the unassuming camper. What I never considered was that a single week of beautiful, dreadful discomfort and growth would turn the axis of my God-given purpose forever.        

There was a quiet stillness during training camp week that was painstakingly apparent amidst the chaos and noise of the environment we were in. Perhaps there’d unknowingly been hoops I’d been jumping through and walls I’d been crashing against to hear God’s voice clearly before stepping onto those grounds, but something shifted in me almost instantaneously and admittedly against my will the moment I surrounded myself with fellow racers and alums. I came to this conclusion when I met my squad for the very first time. After months of frequent zoom meetings and check-ins, book clubs and conversations over the group chat, meeting them almost felt like a promise being fulfilled. And as my heart savored the initial moment of nervous excitement, it also warred against the tug inside of it—the pull that unmistakably felt like love.                    

Isn’t it just peculiar that God can plant such a seed of love in your heart for absolute strangers? I hadn’t previously known the kind of immediate, genuine depth of love that happens when placed in a community of likeminded Christ-followers with the unprecedented passion for Jesus that lies in the hearts of the twenty-eight other members of my squad. And this undeserved gift of godly community is precisely the gift I never knew I wanted. 

During sleepless nights in the Georgia humidity, the incessant bug bites that had me scratching my skin raw, the sudden torrential downpours that left my pack and belongings soaked to the brim, and the unabating fatigue that had me longing for coffee more than I ever have before, there was a myriad of beautiful, life-giving moments amidst the discomfort. Conversations that left me in helpless tears in light of how wonderful Jesus is. Moments of worship that broke down walls of insecurity and pride I’d been towing along for all twenty-five years of my existence. Teachings and messages that convicted and challenged me in the best possible way. Laughter and joy that can only come from being surrounded by a group of people who love the Lord at a standard one can only dream to reach. Unity that cannot be severed by the shallow concerns of this world. Praise that shifts the atmosphere so intensely, Heaven becomes a tangible, palpable entity…                                                                                                         

In a single week I learned the art of God’s love for us by loving the people around me so strongly. I learned the nature and beauty of sacrifice and surrender, much like Jesus’ sacrifice for us. I never imagined on day one of training camp that I would leave on day seven forever changed for the better, with mentors and coaches, sisters and brothers that my heart loves and cherishes so profoundly.                              

I walked into the Adventures in Missions training camp with a limited but hopeful perspective. Now, as I prepare to enter the missions field, my vantage point has changed from limited to expansive, from hopeful to expectant. I could never guess the amazing works the Lord is going to do in this next year of life in ministry. All I know is that I’m prepared to carry the blueprints of His kingdom into the deep dark depths of this world and build Heaven on Earth wherever I stand.