I used to be hardcore. That means something different depending on the circles you run in. In our world, that means long road trips, sleeping on a blanket on the floor of a gym, fasting food and sometimes water for the sake of a cause, and pouring myself out for hours in prayer and worship and just standing in whatever weather, along with moving around the country and changing everything overnight because someone had a dream.
I had one kid back then, and he didn’t talk, and he ate whatever we put in front of him, and he giggled for 8 hours while we drove. I’d put him in a playpen with noise cancelling headphones during worship and he would play with 3 blocks for hours, if necessary.
Things have changed. The new guys, while amazing travelers, are normal kids. They gripe about the travel, the volume, the food. They melt down and attack each other when they don’t sleep. They try to escape childcare and play the barnacle with me, the boat. And somewhere in here, I have forgotten how to rough it. I don’t remember how to fast with tenacity. I don’t know how to, or really even want to, train the little ones to be quiet in church.
So I am trying to psyche myself up for this 21 day intensive in St Louis, where we’ll be fasting some, and leading worship, and praying, and dreaming. We even have a host home, with a kitchen and beds and everything! Still, I am dreading being out of my comfort zone, which is pretty wide…
When did I turn into a wuss?