Posted in Post Race by Jordan Wheeler on 12/22/2011
All things must eventually come to an end--even the good stuff. I wrote my first blog on June 13, 2010. Since then I've not only completed my Race, getting the chance to write about my journey, but I've gone through a pretty good amount of re-entry, and am back in stride with life back home.
Obviously the World Race is not just an 11-month block of life that's experienced, reflected upon, and then forgotten about. It's now a part of all of us that lived it. It is woven into who we are, what we say, and how we see the world. That's something I'll go to the grave with.
As for this particular blog, it is my story. It is the best narrative of what I saw, what I went through, and what GOD did. It is a pure account of one year of international sanctification rooted in hardships, challenges, and unbelievable firsts.
I could not be more proud of this story. But it's time that I end this chapter of my WR story, and begin the new season of post-Race living. A new blog might surface in the future; I'm not sure. Until then...
For everyone that followed my story through these blogs, I hope that you were able to catch a glimpse of how AWESOME our God is. For those that read every single blog and made comment after comment, you have to know how encouraging that was. To read your responses, to get affirmation that the power of what I was seeing YOU were seeing...that was a gift like no other. I will always be grateful for your words.
All the praise to God for even considering to use me to tell his story. May HIS grace overwhelm you to the point of ACTION!
Forever Grateful,
Jordan
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Posted in Post Race by Jordan Wheeler on 11/25/2011
I will never forget the Thanksgiving meal I fixed last year in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysi. From the $30 turkey to the made-from-scratch pumpkin pie, it was quite a spread. And while I loved getting to break bread and give thanks with a solid group of my brothers, let's be honest...turkey just doesn't taste as good as it does when eaten in the presence of the people you love most. I was reminded of that tonight after spending the day with my family.
Thanksgiving is a funny paradox, because most of us think of it as a single day of the year. Yet, isn't thanksgiving a constant state we're called to live in as believers?
The truth is quite simple: I don't live in a constant state of thanksgiving.
A much more accurate state: I complain, worry, and stress.
But, our Dad opened my eyes to see what there is to be thankful for. He took me on an 11-month trip down the road to Damascus, a trip that we learned, had de-masked[us].
For when the scales fell off our eyes and we opened up wide to the sight of home, ordinary things began to look so majestic.
Suddenly I found myself almost in tears in sheer appreciation for the hot shower I was taking and for the closet of freshly laundered towels that awaited me with a clean scent.
I was in awe of simple tasks, like brushing my teeth. To walk into a heated
room with a tile floor, flip on a light switch, turn a knob and get
gallons of fresh, clean, cold water endlessly pouring over my electric
toothbrush...it still to this day blows me away.
Unless you've trekked a quarter mile in the cold night air to a hole in the ground in which you used before brushing your teeth using a few tablespoons of water out of your only bottle, all while seeing your way thanks to the headlamp strapped to your forehead, none of this will really mean much. And that's okay.
But--take my word for it--we have absolutely no reason to not live in a constant state of thanksgiving.
Abba, Thank You! You have blessed me with abundantly more than I ever deserve. May I never take for granted the beautiful things you have provided, great or small. Thank you most of all for loving me. Spirit fill me with an everlasting state of thanksgiving. Amen.
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Posted in Post Race by Jordan Wheeler on 10/25/2011
Our luggage had been left in the Philippines, along with all the new friends we had made in our first month of ministry. But this was month 2, and it promised a whole new set of opportunities. Team X-Stream piled into a van headed "just a few miles away" to our ministry site.2 and a half hours later, while driving further and further into the vast nothingness of Cambodia, I remember telling Ryan, "I don't think we're in Phnom Penh this month." Our month in Takeo was one of the hardest of my life. Nothing strenuous, stressful, or even dangerous awaited us each morning. But what did, threatened to drive us all mad: nothing.For a solid month we spent 20+ hours a day doing nothing. The treehouse became an asylum, at times.Because there was nothing.Just me.
And God.
No English speakers.No food that was remotely appetizing.No electricity.No football.At one point during the month, during a rare time of communication back home, my mom asked me if this time next year I'd like to go to Colorado for Fall break.I spent the next 10 months daydreaming of that day.
My Fall break was last week, and I spent it hiking in the snow and splendor of the Rocky Mountains. The trip I had daydreamed about for so long was finally happening.And it was everything I had dreamed it would be.It was on one of these hikes that it hit me: I would do just about anything to have a few weeks of nothingness! 20 hours a day to sleep, read whatever I want, pray, journal endlessly, write songs, play guitar, get on my knees and cry out? um, YES please!Between the 18 hours of classes/week and the daily grind of American life, I find myself with no time to read, think, even sleep at times.This isn't one of those blogs where a great new revelation smacks you on the head and a light bulb goes off...that's cause I don't have the answer. How do you find time in a culture obsessed with utilizing every second of every day? Authors have made millions writing answers to this question; seminars take place on a weekly basis trying to aid in this desire. Yet, the answer seems to remain as simple and straightforward as it always has:Be Intentional.
Make time.But I don't want to sacrifice my other crap for this solitude. I mean, it's pertinent that I ace that exam, have that conversation with her, make dinner on time, play the big word on Words with Friends, and see what happens on this week's Modern Family.Or is it? And it was at this time that He went off to the mountain to pray, and He spent the whole night in prayer to God.Luke 6:12
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Posted in Post Race by Jordan Wheeler on 9/12/2011
366 days ago I got on a plane in Nashville and made my way to the Philippines.
I still remember making the final two phone calls from my cell in LAX before calling Verizon and suspending my line "for 11 months."
I thought I knew what I was doing. I didn't have a clue.
I remember that first month, September 2010, living in Manila, and spending a lot of time driving back and forth from the hospital.
I remember the adrenaline rush that accompanied each morning when I woke up 8,000 miles away from home and didn't have a clue what was in store for the day.
The "good ole days" when we still had no idea what the Race was about, when we spent our days getting to know each other, and our nights secretly asking ourselves if we were really about to spend the next year traveling the world like a bunch of crazy people.
Fast forward 12 months and enter a man that has been newly born out of 11 months of 'clay in the maker's hands' reshaping, brand new in a way, walking into the depths of a world he knows far too well.
What a crazy paradox.
You realize that your world stopped spinning for a year while THE world kept going without you.
That rush of adrenaline is often replaced with a feeling of loneliness; losing your family of 30 for a year is tough.
But it's not all bad. In fact, life back here is pretty sweet.
There's cars, paved roads, ice, A/C, nice clothes, showers, toilets, fast food, pizza, and Red Boxes.
And best of all, the people that you love more than anything are finally within arms reach.
Looking back at last September the one thing that sticks out to me more than anything is the word "beginning."
It was a month of firsts; a month of fresh starts and new ideas.
As I began that journey I focused on what lied ahead, and it kept me going in those first few weeks.
I have spent my first 6 weeks back home forgetting that lesson, and I now find myself spiraling away from everything I absorbed on my Race.
But, if I learned anything, it's that we have the power to call out our own shortcomings, and speak life back into those traps...turning pitfalls into Golden Gate Bridges.
So, here's to new beginnings!
September 2010 was the beginning to a journey that forever changed my life.
September 2011 is the beginning to a journey that will forever change my life.
Sept. 11, 2010. Saying Goodbye for a year...
July 31, 2011. Saying Hello after a year!
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Posted in (k) Month 11: Ukraine by Jordan Wheeler on 7/23/2011
by Theresa Duffy & Jordan Wheeler
Throughout the year we've been bombarded by the constant presence of beggars. From newborns to grandparents, we've been approached thousands of times in every country we've been to. We've been asked for money for tuition, food, water, drugs, cigarettes, even our watches.
The first four months of our Race challenged our patience and tested our grace towards those begging. By the time we arrived in Africa and became the immediate daily target of the poor, we developed a conditioned response of a bold, "no!"
As we've progressed through the world and the months have gone by, one thing sticks out in my mind. It's not the woman holding the baby in my face as I try to walk by, it's not the teenager relentlessly tugging at my shirt and repeating the same foreign words over and over that catches my eye; it's the small child silently standing in the background holding a ball.
When that child approaches and asks the simple question, "do you want to play?" we tend to drop everything at that moment and play.
Isn't that like us and our Father?
How much of our conversations with our Father are centered around us asking and telling Him what we need?
Are we tugging God's shirt or are we holding out our football with eager eyes?
Our Father is happy to give us all we ask for, but perhaps what we really need is to spend an afternoon playing catch.
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