On Motorcycles, Malaysia, and Missions

31 Thursday Aug 2017

Posted by AliciaRose in Culture, Expectations, Malaysia, Mission, Travel, vision

Thanks to the influence of coming from a family of boys, I’ve dreamt of riding/driving a motorcycle ever since I was maybe 12. Finally mustered up enough courage to get my permit last spring, and cruising the back roads nearby was easily a highlight of last summer. Wobbly and unsteady as I was (am), riding motorcycle had a certain amount of danger to it that made me feel adventurous and free.

Then I spent some time in Asia over the winter and had a not-so-pleasant motorbike crash a few days before my scheduled departure back to the States. It was rough going for a couple weeks, but I was excited about the day the dark wound on my foot would be healed enough and the day would be warm enough to go on a ride. Finally convinced dad it was time to go one day, and got all prepped and ready for the ride. My soaring expectations were dashed as we drove through the usual back roads route. Instead of adventure and freedom, all I felt was fear. Crippling fear. Every corner brought back haunting images of sliding on the loose gravel around a small bend on a Thai country road, my ill judgement on how fast I was going, and the shock of pain as blood oozed everywhere. This wasn’t the accident. But my mind was obsessing over it. We’re going to crash. We’re going to crash. I just know it.

It made me a bit upset. Why did something I had anticipated for so long turn sour so fast? A few weeks later I tried it again, this time with my brother, Ryan. Again, it was the same fear haunting my mind and making me feel stiff and wobbly around every corner. I wanted to relocate to some far corner of the world that never used any form of motorized bike and everyone only walked very slowly everywhere or drove the little electric scooters that you see in Wal-Mart. It seemed much safer and uneventful.

The problem is that I wanted to like motorcycle rides again, I really did. The Wal-Mart scooter world only seemed pleasant for so long. I would have had to leave there sometime. For the third attempt, we drove up to the Pinnacle. On winding, curvy roads, I bunched my hands up tight as we went around corners and inwardly gave myself pep talks while attempting to diagnose the unprecedented fear. Alicia, what’s going on? Do you trust your brother? You do remember he has a much better driving record than you, right? Are you going to keep facing your fear so that one day you enjoy motorcycle drives again?

Reaching a sharp corner I leaned closer to Ryan, close enough to reach out and hold on to him for dear life if necessary. In that instant, I suddenly realized why it was so scary. Earlier, I hadn’t been leaning in. Focusing so heavily on fear, I forgot that the best form for sharp corners was leaning down and in. In this position I felt safer, more protected. The fear didn’t leave instantly, but somehow the knowledge that I could feel protected on a motorcycle began to go to my head. On our ride back, I made hand waves in the wind as we drove a straight stretch of road, and felt the joy seeping in again. It wasn’t completely back yet, but it was coming.

If I wanted to sum up my experience in mission life so far, insert the word missions in place of motorcycle and you would have most of the story. Wanting to “do missions” ever since I was a young girl, anticipating it, trying it out for several years, only to have my idealism shattered, all messy things oozing everywhere. If you’ve read some of my previous posts on this, a lot of the messiness had to do with coming face to face with my own brokenness and learning how to live more honestly. Getting back on the mission bandwagon has felt scary, like I’m waiting for something terrible to happen that will crush me yet again. Every little hiccup fills me with fear, holding my breath for something worse than the last time. I want to run to some corner of the world where everyone is perfect and nothing is required of me except to wake up and smell roses.

The problem is that I want to “like” missions again, no matter how hard, frustrating, scary, or impossible it seems. I can’t hypothetically smell the roses forever. It’s only in the past year that I have begun to discover the audacious hope for moving forward. Leaning into Jesus brings healing. He is really good at being a Healer. At showing up in the places that are terrifying- the loose gravel corners, if you will- He isn’t afraid of the mess and ill judgement that’s there. It is a painfully slow, gradual business- this healing stuff. Like a flower working to blossom, it means effort and honest searching and letting friends speak truth and depth into your life (I guess flowers don’t actually need that part, but you get the idea).

In the first chapter of Matthew, the angel tells Joseph that the God-child coming to earth will be called “Immanuel,” which means, “God with us.” (Matt. 1:23)

God with us.

When life seems raw and uncertain. When my unrealistic expectations of missionary life crash with reality, because the truth is that I can’t actually save the world no matter how much I may want to. He draws me out to be faithful and free inside; to love Him more so I can love others better. Those two things cannot and are not perfected overnight. I’m learning to take these shaky steps towards a clearer future. It probably won’t be void of pain or disappointment. But it’s okay. He is with us.

I’m ready to learn how to lean in again. And that means a hypothetical motorcycle ride and a real move to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, with all its dangerous beauty of never knowing what the results will be. It’s peculiar and wonderful to be so excited about this upcoming chapter. Most days I don’t really know how to depict it all. It’s something so far beyond myself, it always will be, and maybe I’m learning to be just a little more okay with that. I read THIS book recently and am keeping the words below from Jena Nardella as a reminder to keep walking. I want to keep leaning in and learning and growing- whether it’s on a motorcycle or a Wal-Mart scooter.

“One might imagine that I’ve changed, that along with my vision… came a new courage, an undiscovered gutsiness, a joy in taking risks. The truth is, I’ve never felt equipped to do anything extraordinary in my life. I battle fear every time I get on a plane. I experience so much failure and self-doubt that I have come to expect it. But the path… taught me that it’s less about having it all together and more about the unwavering commitment to keep walking…My faith is messier now than it once was. My questions are bigger. Some of my convictions have eased into mystery, even as my understanding of God has grown… we are not called to change the world. We are called to love the world. And to love the world, we are the ones who must change.” (Jena Lee Nardella)

Check out a glimpse of what I’m joining HERE!

Burnout Part II: 5 Things

24 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by AliciaRose in Expectations, Mission, vision

≈ 1 Comment

I’ll be honest, I’m not exactly sure how to start a part two.

(Find part one HERE )

I wasn’t sure that I wanted to so publicly delve deeper into burn out, mostly because my experience is minutely small when I think of those who have sweated and fought hard on the frontlines of ministry for decades.

I won’t pretend to know the answer as to why God created us with limits in the physical realm.

I just finished reading Expectations & Burnout: Women Surviving the Great Commission, and found it absolutely timely and refreshing.

It seemed to put the frustration of burnout and/or tiredness into perspective.

Out of this, conversations with others, and Jesus bringing a fresh energy in my heart, I want to share a few things that may be helpful for you or those close to you.

The list below certainly is not exhaustive nor is it meant to “diagnose” whether or not you may experiencing fatigue or burnout. It’s simply me trying to sum up my own experience in a few brief paragraphs.

1. Burnout does not mean you are not “strong enough.”

A part of living in a fallen world is that our whole bodies (physical, emotional, spiritual), to a greater or lesser degree, have limits.

It’s not necessarily wrong to stretch limits, because how else can a person grow?

However, when those limits are constantly stretched without a break for months or years on end, we wear out. I was recently listening to a speaker who compared burning out to be a rubber band stretched tight. At some point, it will break. If it continues stretching without a pause, it’s not if it will break, but when.

“Come to Me all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

I think the reason Jesus spent so much time on speaking words of rest and comfort is He knew/knows that so many of us (or perhaps it’s just me) like to prove our identity by over-doing. Do=Worth.

I’m glad that in His Kingdom, Love=Worth. We are commanded to do and go and serve, absolutely, but not for the sake of our identity or value. Separating the two, doing and value, is so crucial to ministry life, because they often get mish-mashed together.

2. Burnout does not mean you have failed.

I am convinced that anyone who is spent and tired will experience this feeling of failure to some degree.

When one is exhausted and spent, it’s hard to see much good or potential, even in yourself.

Once again, it is a signal to my mind, body, and soul, that something needs to change- I am learning that instead of looking at burnout as failure, I can choose to look at it as a time to allow others to speak into my life- for real.

Looking back, I see my high expectation of what I thought ministry would do for me. This placed me in somewhat of a danger zone, because it was easy to base my worth on whether my circumstances felt “successful” or not. The higher my expectation of ministry, the greater the danger of feeling like a “failure.” I have no regrets in how, where, and when I chose to “serve.” But I went in with the mindset that I am there to “fix things” or people. Ministry and working with people doesn’t work like that.

It’s important to recognize our imperfections and shortcomings. However, to sit and wallow in personal failure only worsens our feeling of inadequacy, and certainly doesn’t get us anywhere.

Instead of sitting in our failures, personal or otherwise, let it draw us further into His Presence as while brokenness is glaringly obvious. He will speak Truth for each individual heart.

3. Burnout is not permanent, but recovering from it does take time.

I deeply appreciate the concept of having seasons of life. It fits so well in this area.

There are seasons I just want to rush through because they are hard or frustrating, and my demanding spirit doesn’t like the idea of patience.

A season or an extended season or several different seasons of burnout… they don’t happen overnight nor do they disappear overnight. The truth of the matter is that I wouldn’t even care about burnout/fatigue if it had instantly “disappeared” one day.

Sometimes He gives us the gift of instant healing, but sometimes it is the gift of eventual healing. It takes time to gain fresh perspective and fresh vision and fresh energy for life.

And that’s okay, even if it doesn’t make sense right now.

4. Burnout can reveal how desperately we need Someone to save us.

I found myself the other morning asking Jesus if it’s actually ok to need Him so badly. Some days it’s easy to look back and be almost shocked at how often I mutter or outright cry out, “Jesus, I need You!”

He spoke His answer: “I cannot work through you if you don’t need Me.”

It’s okay to need Jesus very badly, all the time.

It’s what we were created for.

5. Burnout can be a part of a greater, deeper journey- if we let it.

At the end of the above mentioned book, the author made the comment that they wouldn’t want to go back to who they were and what they knew before experiencing burnout and fatigue.

It was a new perspective for me, but I realized it’s true.

Burnout or exhaustion has refined and re-defined my view of what ministry and life is about.

It has caused me to recognize weak spots in my own personal life that I would have by-passed or ignored otherwise.

While in this imperfect and fallen world, the hope Jesus has given me is this: whatever is broken or battered or scarred? It can be turned around into a powerful tool for good.

It sounds so cliche, and yet, when I choose Jesus and believe that He DOES redeem, and He IS good, I have every reason to hope. There may not be full restoration now, on this earth.

And that’s okay.

It gives me an ache for heaven, and maybe that ache, that longing for something better, beyond this earth, is actually what we were created for.

“Lord, keep me eternity conscious.” [Leonard Ravenhill]

Musings of a Twenty-Something

Category Archives: vision

On Motorcycles, Malaysia, and Missions

Burnout Part II: 5 Things