Dear Hot Showers…

The first night of training camp two of my teammates, Abbi and Jacqueline (you should subscribe to their blogs), and I wanted to go take showers. We had heard the rumors of the infamous training camp bucket showers but much to our surprise, AIM had replaced them with two blue shipping containers housing actual showers. But what we didn’t realize was that one container had lights and the other didn’t. Likewise, we had no idea that the lit container had warm showers and the unlit container did not. So, not only did we walk to the showers in the pouring rain out of desperation to wash our hair so that we could feel clean-ish after our first travel day, but we walked to the wrong containers! We learned our lesson and never did that again.  

Training camp was filled with far too much to fit into a single blog post because that would simply be too long, but to give you a quick idea of what it looked like: we all slept on the floor in one room with sleeping pads & sleeping bags, used some glamorous porta-potties, showered in shipping containers, and learned so much it was like we were drinking from a fire hydrant.

I am sure you’re thinking, “Why on earth did you pay all this money to sleep on the floor, use a porta-potty, and take cold showers in shipping containers?” Let me tell you that those four days were eye opening and humbling in such a unique way. 

In all honesty, I heard the rumors about training camp and was unsettled to say the least. Growing up, my mom would always say, “Gracie’s idea of roughing-it is the La Quinta,” (the La Quinta slaps though okay, those Texas shaped waffles…que rico) and honestly if you knew me two weeks ago that would probably still be the case. I thought ew bucket showers and ew porta-potties, I don’t want to do that. Now I think, how selfish was I to think that my own comfort and desires for living in ideal conditions were more important than someone hearing the Gospel for the first—maybe only—time in their life? Hearing the training camp rumors before I officially decided to go to Colombia this summer almost deterred me from saying yes and I cannot believe that I almost let what turned out to be one of the most humbling experiences push me away from chasing after the Lord in obedience. 

We live in the United States and we get so stuck in our comfy western way of living that we fail to realize that in some countries, porta-potties would be a privilege, sleeping pads are a delicacy, and having running water, at all, is a blessing. 

At training camp they asked us what our “yes” was. My whole life I’ve been surrounded by people who want to be comfortable and I was raised to build a life for myself that ensured I would be safe, secure, and, you guessed it: comfortable. I don’t want you to hear me say that comfort and security are bad things because that is not what I’m getting at. Comfort makes us feel safe and secure, known, and loved which are all good things that we need so desperately. But comfort, in some instances, or really most instances, is a definite sign of stagnancy. Likewise, “safe” is not a bad thing, caution and security are necessary to live a wise life. I am talking about the kind of “safe” that keeps you inside the box, inside your comfort zone, and so safe and comfortable that you’re unwilling and fearful to cross the line into the unknown and uncertain. That’s the suffocating kind of safe. That’s the safe we need to eradicate. 

We get so caught up thinking about what we’re going to lose if we start living for Jesus in every aspect of our lives and decide that it’s simply not worth it. Our reputation, our pride, our plans, our time, that could all go flying out the window. We choose what we want, what’s comfortable for us, what’s safest for us, instead of living as radically different kingdom people who have died to their selves for the sake of God’s lost and still beloved children. Getting into the Kingdom, that costs you nothing. Walking and living for the Kingdom, that costs you everything. 

In 2 Corinthians 11:24-31, Paul talks about how he was treated because of his zeal for Christ and unwaveringly firm foundation. He was stoned, beaten, shipwrecked, living in fear of the impending danger of robbers, foreigners, and even his own people. He survived spies, the deadly peril of the city and wilderness, toiled to the point of exhaustion being deprived of food, water, and shelter. Yet still, he saw a responsibility to the churches to which he served, bore a deep concern for their welfare—not his own. He still burned to restore those who were led astray. Paul chose to boast in examples of his weakness so that God could be eternally praised for His provision, faithfulness, and restorative nature.  

Notice how Paul could have at any moment just turned from the Lord and walked away. That would have been easier, right? But he didn’t. 

Obviously Paul’s situation was extreme, but it models the uncomfortability we are called to choose. Paul always chose Jesus. He went willingly where the Lord led him in obedience not once choosing to turn his back on the Father. We too are called to obedience in a way that makes much of Jesus and less of ourselves. Laying down our privilege, our desires, our preferences, and our wants for the sake of the Gospel. 

When you accept Christ, you don’t join a sorority, you join the Kingdom. In a sorority or fraternity a lot of things are optional. You can choose to go to this party, to that sisterhood event, to pay your dues, to live in the house—you name it, you can be as involved or uninvolved as you want to be, but the Kingdom doesn’t work that way. In The Kingdom of Heaven, you’re either in or you’re out, there’s no special status or way to be in but ‘not too committed’. Too many people choose to live for Jesus when it’s easy, when it’s comfortable, but that’s not the purpose we were called to. 

What would it cost to you to go out of your way to talk to that person on the street? Or strike up a conversation with your neighbor or the guy sitting next to you at a coffee shop? What would it cost you to help that mom carry her groceries in the house? What would it cost you to spend your summer in a foreign country serving the Lord? Jesus didn’t pick and choose who he wanted to save and we don’t get to pick and choose who we serve because its easy. We choose the uncomfortable because Jesus went to the cross that cost Him everything. 

The question then becomes, would you take the cross? In Matthew 8 a Pharisee asked Jesus what it would cost to follow him, to which Jesus responded: comfortability. So I think the question shouldn’t be, “Why would you choose to be uncomfortable?” But instead be, “Why wouldn’t you choose to be uncomfortable?” Because we have a God who said I don’t mind being the least or suffering for glory because I know there is a reward at the end. 

So what do we do? We trade hot showers for a month of ice cold showers in an unfamiliar country where you’re not able to flush the toilet paper. We trade western plumbing for porta-potties. Trade a bed for a spot on the floor. Trade air conditioning for an apartment where the windows stay open. We say “YES!” To being joyfully uncomfortable, regardless of what our friends say, regardless of what our families say, regardless of what that means for our worldly lives because God is a faithful Father and when you’re faithful to his calling, He shows up and He provides. 

So my yes? To be joyously and faithfully uncomfortable.  

What’s yours? 

 

Joyfully, Gracie.