She says to me, “Can I tell you something that is going to sound harsh? It’s not about you.”
I have been in Austin this week and have spent the majority of my time with my sister. Last night, we sat in Pappadeaux and I began to share about fundraising. I was explaining how it was harder this time around to know what to say or how to even begin to share about what it is we are doing. When I am on the field, blogging and social media are the biggest tools that I have to help in fundraising. I have been struggling with how to use my platform in a way that is honoring to the people we are serving and their stories. That struggle has been keeping me quiet about what has been happening on the field here in the states. Out of fear of misusing the stories given to me, I have neglected one of the biggest tools the Lord has given me to impact others with and show what He is doing here in the states.
You see, when I went on the World Race, I was aware that I was coming into peoples lives. I went to a storytelling workshop that gave me some tools on how to share stories well while on the field. I understood that, though things would look very different for me, I was walking into someone else’s normal everyday life. I realized how weird it would be for someone to walk up and ask to take a picture of my friends and I grabbing lunch together, and that is what I was doing when I took pictures of people doing everyday things. It could be very rude to just go about snapping pictures without first getting permission to do so. No matter how fascinating I found things, I always made the conscious effort to ask before taking any photos.
I came home and (because of comments made on an online debate) found myself very convicted about the pictures I had posted from my race. Though I had asked if I could take a photo, I had never asked if it was okay to post it. A child who says yes to allowing you to take their picture does not in the same breath give you the right to post that photo on social media. So I went through every post I had ever made that had photos of people who I had not asked permission in them and I deleted them. I removed photos from facebook, instagram, and even my blogs.
As I left for World Race America I had no clue just how passionately I would feel about this. During our first week of World Race America, I found myself facing this situation but instead of being the photographer, I was the one in the photograph.
Our first week, we lived in a homeless shelter in Asheville, North Carolina. We lived alongside the people who stayed there. We followed the rules you had to follow to be allowed to sleep there. We woke up at 5 am, breakfast at 6, and we were outside the building by 7:00. It was freezing and the middle of January, yet we had to leave the building until 4 pm. It was long days and short nights, and it left me feeling exhausted most days.
One night during our time there, a youth group showed up to the shelter to serve meals one evening. As I sat at a table to eat my dinner alongside another woman, I saw a young girl approach us and sit at our table. I turn to speak with her and out of the corner of my eye I see someone snapping pictures of us. At first I thought it was funny… “I’m not homeless. They don’t know what they are taking pictures of.” Then I became upset… “You did not ask to take my picture. I’m happy to be here but if I was struggling with being in a shelter, you taking my picture to show others would definitely have made me feel even worse. I am a person. Why didn’t you ask me permission first? If it were not for the generosity of others, I would be homeless. If I wasn’t able to sleep in the shelter that night, I would have been sleeping in our van. You know nothing of my story or who I am or else maybe you would have thought twice about the photo you took.”
I felt so protective over the men and women in the shelter that I had grown to love. They are so much more than a picture could ever capture. I knew right then and there that I would not be taking many photos this year. I knew that the stories I would tell would be quite different from the ones I told last year. I felt so protective of their stories and their lives that I could not share them. I wouldn’t. I was privileged enough to have them open up and share with me. I wouldn’t dare break that confidence by posting on social media about them.
As I moved forward after making that decision, I quickly realized I was going to have a much harder time talking about what I was doing. This race is much more personal. Much of our ministry is relational. On the World Race, ministry for me (most of the time) was manual labor, teaching, or playing with children. This time around the best way I can explain what I do is that I’m living life alongside others. We aren’t building soccer fields or preaching sermons. We are living with Henry, Loretta, and Peeper the bird! We are sitting and talking with alumni. We are making time to minister to our families and friends. We are living with Karen and listening to her stories about her late husband. We are walking the garden with Ms. Freda while talking about her plants that survived the hurricane.
It’s hard to put into words for you to understand just how impactful those moments are in the kingdom of God. I feel like if I tried to explain why they are so important, it would look like I am trying to justify to you that I’m doing something worthwhile. I worry I would find myself looking to you for assurance in what I’m doing instead of God. The mission this time around looks so different that its hard for me to explain. So, I’ve stayed quiet.
As I was sitting in the restaurant last night explaining all this to my sister, she says to me, “Can I tell you something that is going to sound harsh? It’s not about you.” Yes, it is my job to steward stories well. Yes, it is my job to be mindful of what I am saying and posting. However, not posting at all is not the answer. That is like the man in the parable in Matthew 25:14-30. Not sharing these stories is like digging a hole and hiding the gold that I have been given. Instead of doing something with what I have been given, I have been hiding it out of fear. I’ve wanted so badly to make sure I am doing things the right way, that I have actually kept myself from doing anything at all.
My sister sat across from me and said, “Most people want someone to care enough to want to hear their stories. Most people want their story to be known. You have the ability to help that happen. All you have to do is ask.” That’s when I said, “Okay. Then let’s start with you. Can I tell your story?”
And she said yes… My next blog will feature her story.
I want to thank you all for following along on this journey with me. I’m beyond blessed to be able to live life the way that I do, and that is because of you guys. Thank you for donating. Thank you for your prayers. Thank you for your grace as I learn how to do this thing well. I am still fundraising for this trip. I am getting closer to being 50% fundraised. I ask that you prayerfully consider donating to help me be able to continue to finish out this race. My team and I will be stopping in Amarillo for a few days in a couple of weeks. We arrive on Wednesday April 24th and will be there until Saturday the 27th. We will be available to meet up with anyone who is wanting to meet with us. Shoot me a message if you want to see us when we swing by! Love you all and hope to see you soon!
