Golgotha [gol-guh-thuh]

May 4-10 was Athletes in Action's annual National Training Camp (NTC) which, as always, culminates in the top-secret S.P.E.C.I.A.L.

Confused? I'll fill you in as far as I'm able. The intent of NTC is to bring campers (in this case, 50+ university-aged athletes) to a place where they meet God in a very tangible way - for these young people to experience God's love and purpose for their lives and their sports! The majority of the week is spent with regular sessions teaching spiritual principles that can be applied to athletics - and then putting these lessons into practice. We played competitive games that were manipulated by the staff and interns to make campers recognize the need to bring God onto their field/court/track with them. For example, at different points they introduced an angry coach, a struggling teammate, or the pressure of fans. We addressed how we would normally react to these situations and re-evaluated based on what God had been teaching us. Lots of time was spent in processing and reflecting on what we'd learned with friends, mentors, and small groups with whom we also spent a lot of time just having fun! Beaver tails, trips to parliament hill, and of course, some casual sports games were had by all. When the time came for the S.P.E.C.I.A.L. to begin, the staff and interns withdrew from their roles as caring instructors and became impartial officials - unable to guide us through the task ahead. This challenged us to rest on God and the lessons we had learned over the week; we would need to if we wanted to get through the twenty-four hours of competition that we were about to begin!

That's right. Twenty-four hours of playing competitive sports. Straight.

Throughout the week, I had really been learning that God didn't want me to perform for anyone other than Him. In my sporting "career", this had been a constant struggle. I played to impress my coach so I would get more time on the field and recognition as a good player. I played for my teammates so they would either like me, or look up to me. I played for my friends who watched my games, and I played for those who weren't necessarily there to watch me so that maybe they would come back next time for me. Most detrimental however, was probably the way I played for my family. My family values talent at sport. I see it on their faces when we watch professional sports together, when we talk about playing our own sports, and from the sidelines as they watch. The hours and hours we've spent as a family investing into sports make it obvious; we are athletes. So, I played because I wanted the respect and notice of my family. My worth was inextricably tied to my performance. And this revealed the struggle of self-worth in every other aspect of my life as well. My grades. My income. My intelligence. My behaviour. The number of friends I had. Even my body and my health. If these things didn't measure up to my brothers' or parents expectations, I was a failure. Of course, this attitude translated into everyday life rendering me helpless at the whim of other peoples' opinions of me. I even struggled with judging others by the same criteria (as much as I tried to hide it). I had always tried not to come across as judgemental and condescending - because I knew how it felt to receive judgement from others - but it was ingrained in the way I perceived the world and I was hiding it rather than allowing God to heal it. And that's what I needed to do... but I didn't exactly know how. I was struggling through these thoughts and what it would mean to bring this lesson home when I was approached by one of the staff members.

She asked me to be one of six captains to lead a team through the S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
I was terrified.

Being a captain meant drafting a team, representing them, making sure everyone was on the same page in the competitions, and just leading in general. Looking back, it doesn't seem like all that much to ask... But the way everyone had been talking about the S.P.E.C.I.A.L. and how spiritually challenging it was made me feel so inadequate. How could I facilitate this incredibly important experience for a group of people I barely knew? Especially with all the convictions and doubts that had been going through my mind!? I was inadequate, in a way. But God was adequate. He knew what he was doing. God, my refiner, bubbled this issue up to the surface and, because he knows how stubborn I am, FORCED me to get past it immediately... before I had the chance to let it settle back in. I had to SOLELY lean on his power because I knew that if it were up to me, I would be cowering in a corner crying about how everyone thinks I'm not good enough. But God, through the staff and interns, determined me to be good enough; good enough to recognize that his strength is enough and to let Him do the work. I just had to trust Him.

I've never spent so much time listening to God in my life. He helped me draft my team (literally, He gave me the number to pick between 1 and 100 to see who gets to pick first. Eleven. On the dot) and then He led me to Ephesians 6:10-20, the passage about the armour of God. I recognized my team members as different pieces of armour and how we could work together to "be able to stand against the schemes of the devil" (v. 11). I recruited as many people as I could to pray for me and my team and though the devil appeared occasionally throughout the 24-hours, God always provided what I needed to overcome doubt and panic and just pure exhaustion! Whether it was in a teammate's comforting hand, a scripture passage, or a little break, He showed up. He was all around us, but he was also in us. It was incredible.

The background picture of this blog represents the most challenging part of my S.P.E.C.I.A.L. journey when God finally broke me. People talk about the "breaking point" of the S.P.E.C.I.A.L. when you recognize that you can't do it alone. You realize that you literally can't continue without completely surrendering to God - or something like that... I didn't know yet. After a gruelling 22 hours, we had come to the last event. Golgotha. I'll let you think about what that name represents. All I had heard about this event was that God shows up in powerful ways - and I was ready for it. Expectant you could say. We each participated in the event individually, and I decided to go last. As captain, I felt that I couldn't be broken until the very end. I wanted to be free from my obligations to really experience what God had for me. And I'm glad I did. When my turn came, I didn't experience God right away. In fact, I was questioning him in anguish: "How did you go through the pain when you knew you could be removed from it?" Because I wanted to be removed from it. Some of my darkest times flash back to me and I know His were worse. I don't understand. Confused, I just ask Him to do it for me - to carry me. And then I just trusted Him to do it. Two different times, I felt Him saying, "be still and know" and I stopped briefly to look around me. Looking at His creation, it was as if He were saying, "I have the ability to make all of this - a tiny portion of my works, why do you have such a hard time trusting me?" He makes a good point. I was holding on to something that was keeping me from hearing exactly what it was he had for me. I identified it as soon as I caught a glimpse of the rest of the group, waiting for me to round the corner so they could cheer me on (as I had done for probably 40 others before me). It was them. But it was more than that. It was just people in general - the performance thing. It was a fear of failure in front of them - not just failure to finish the event... but to fail in their minds as a person of worth. I had a moment of panic, allowing myself to get that out before giving the rest up to God. Trust and obey. Trust and obey. I didn't hear a word people were yelling at me as I went past. Just trust and obey. And as I ascended the hill you see in the picture, the words I chanted over and over in my head changed to "only Him" and "just You and me." I stopped caring what place we were in, what people were thinking, or how I looked (and believe me, I looked pretty scary...). I just knew that God wanted me to finish for Him and that's all that mattered. It was incredibly freeing. My mind was completely detached from my body as I crossed the finish line and fell into the arms of whoever would hold me - it didn't matter who - because I was with God.

I don't mean for this post to point at me in any way, shape, or form. If it does, please show me how and I will edit it or remove the whole thing if necessary! If anything, I hope it demonstrates my weakness as a simple testimony to God's power:

2 Corinthians 12:9-11 (ESV)
"But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."