A Letter to Those Who Knew Me Before the Race

Dear friend who knew me before this nine month journey began,

 

I come to you with an apology. 

 

A humbling one at that, but an apology. 

 

I’m sorry. 

 

I’m sorry for not seeing you. I’m sorry for getting so caught up in myself. I’m sorry for focusing on the pressure of “making it” in life (whatever that means) instead of looking past myself to really see you. I’m sorry for only ever choosing the self checkout line to avoid caring about how anyone else’s day was. I’m sorry for the million hellos I could have given but didn’t in the dshs hallways. I’m sorry for not texting you back for days about something really important to your heart because I was “too busy”. I’m sorry for only caring about my schedule, my time, and my benefit. I’m sorry for seeking approval from you, that isn’t your job or your gift to give. 

 

You see, 

 

some of these things might not seem like a big deal. 

 

But when hearts are overlooked, 

 

that’s a really big deal.

 

I am coming home very soon and I am not coming home anywhere near perfect. If anything, I have been broken in more ways than ever before and am slowly being put together newly and beautifully. Being on the mission field isn’t about me, it never was about me. This isn’t about how amazing I am or how brave I am. The race is not an accomplishment to boost my ego. 

 

But my heart has been shifted. 

 

I have seen a bible handed to an elderly woman in Louisiana who just lost so much from a hurricane. I watched the tears fall down her husbands cheeks as he felt there was no hope left. 

 

I have prayed over a mother’s business in Guatemala that had seen few customers since receiving a visit from witch doctors who cursed her home. 

 

I held a precious baby in my lap at a preschool in South Africa who’s father was a drug dealer and who’s mother didn’t care that she was sick that day. 

 

I looked directly into the eyes of a 9 year old who was rescued from human trafficking after years of being abused. I experienced her many giggles and joy and still wear the bracelet she made me my first week in Ecuador. 

 

You see,

 

it’s not about me anymore. My gain, my success, my goals, my benefit, my time, my energy, my motivation, my fears even. 

 

To be honest, it’s not even about you. 

 

It’s about Jesus. It’s about the One who gave it all so we can experience joy and freedom. 

 

And that automatically makes it about the pursuit of you. Whether you’re a high school friend, the checker at target, a customer I served at the coffee shop, a family friend, 

 

I love you. 

 

Because you have been bought with a price and you have been claimed valuable and chosen and worthy of being loved. 

 

May my pride and selfish desires never get in the way of you experiencing the radical, never ending, life changing love of Jesus Christ. 

 

So to the person who used to know me, 

 

it’s about Him. 

 

Which also makes it about you. 

 

I am here to love you, for I was first loved myself. 

 

Bye for now, 

MG