Sarah and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Habit of Running

 

 

Running is stupid. 

It's stupid that I would put my body through an hour of pain and physical stress for 15 minutes of euphoria. 

Statistically, I am a complete idiot for agreeing to this wildly unfair bargain day after day. 

Here's the thing about running: there is not one person I have met who consistently runs who doesn't also hate it just a teeny tiny bit. We are all perfectly aware we're playing the fool, and we are all totally okay with it. 

Here's generally how my runs go: I lace up my shoes, grab my headphones, start my playlist full of the head-banging, alternative music I used to listen to in high school that still makes me feel like I can conquer the world (Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance) and start what will the next five or six miles full of promise and energy. 

It doesn't take long for things to start becoming uncomfortable. I notice a cramp in my left calf, my right earbud is not quite as tight as the other one, my stomach is starting to tighten up and I feel the remains of my lunch bouncing up and down, and my breathing is still sporadic and shallow as I'm trying to find a rhythm and ignore all the persistent whiny cries of my body.   

My mind begins documenting the grievances: 

"Are you sure you drank enough water today? Better stop and try again later because you might die from dehydration if you continue." 

"Hello? Are you listening to me? There is a CRAMP in your SIDE. I don't think it's ever, ever going to go away. I think you need to stop running RIGHT NOW and probably look on WebMD for whatever VERY SERIOUS medical problem this is." 

"Nope, nope, nope, this is the wrong song. I can't run to this song. We need to turn around right now and try again tomorrow because the whole vibe is totally off now. How could you pick this song to begin our run?!"

And if I allow myself to start to think about the next five, six, or heaven forbid, seven miles, I panic. How could I possibly endure seven miles of all this annoying pain? 

But then, I will myself to take deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, I relax my shoulders and my muscles and decide to only think about the very next step. Can I make another step? Of course I can. Then one step becomes two which becomes five and ten, until next thing I know, I am no longer thinking about steps, but simply enjoying the wind on my face, finally having found my rhythm. 

Life in ministry isn't far off from this. 

Ministry starts out with a lot of idealism: 

"I'm going to change the world!" 

"Every day is going to be perfect because we're all Christians and why on Earth would we struggle with sin?" 

"God is going to bless me every step of the way because I am walking in obedience to his will!" 

"I am going to go full steam all the time and never feel tired because what is more energizing than a life of serving Christ?"

But then things settle, life becomes uncomfortable, we notice the small annoyances, and we begin to panic about SPENDING THE REST OF MY LIFE STUCK HERE!? 

Of course, I have never, ever, not even once, thought something even remotely close to that. No, that would be silly. I really adore the speed bumps in the middle of the road that aren't painted so you can't see them at all and almost obliterate your car every time you go to the grocery store. I think it's really cute how in the summer you have a full-time job simply devoted to sweating profusely. I love playing this fun little game with motorcyclists called "Whoops, I almost killed you there" because they don't obey traffic laws and drive at neck-breaking speeds.  

Jokes aside, the adjustment period can be really hard. The novelty wears off and things start to chafe. 

Many days I find that I am just plain tired. I'm tired of having to use my brain on overdrive every day to do simple tasks. I'm tired of learning Portuguese. I'm tired of being away from my family and friends. And because I'm tired, the little things are starting to raise their annoying pipsqueak voices over the silliest things. How can you possibly raise the price of coconut oil 40 Reais from one week to the next? Are you out of your mind??! (And yes, this really did happen). 

I just want to run back to familiarity. I just want to run back to comfort. I want my dad to pour me a hot cup of coffee in one of our GIANT AMERICAN MUGS, I want my feet to touch a surface that isn't sterile tile (wood, carpet, please, anything but tile), I want to drive down smooth paved roads and not hit a single speed bump, I want to sit in a group of people and listen to them talk without straining every muscle in my brain trying to decipher their conversation, I want to go to the grocery store and know that all the same food that was there last week will be there this week, and most of all, I want to eat something other than rice and beans for lunch. 

But what happens when we decide to live our lives in comfort and familiarity? We never lace up our shoes, we never start running, and we never realize that this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad habit of running is actually the thing we love. 

I'm not the only one who thinks running and ministry parallel one another. The Bible is full of imagery of runners being compared to Christians. 

1 Corinthians 9:24 says: "Do you not know that in a race all the runners run but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. Every athlete exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. So, I do not run aimlessly; I do not box as one beating the air. But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified."

Here, Paul is specifically talking about the race set before those in ministry, even more specifically pastors. He is emphasizing the importance of pastors running the Christian life well, to discipline themselves against sin and temptation that would make them hypocrites before their congregation, and ultimately disqualify them from being a pastor. 

But this can also be applied to those in non-pastoral ministry positions and even Christians in general. 

To be an athlete takes sacrifice. It means giving up time with your family and friends. It means having stricter guidelines and rules than the other people around you. It means that there are those you are competing against that are praying for your failure and actively putting obstacles in your way to keep you distracted and prevent you from finishing the race. 

How accurately that describes this Christian life. How accurately that describes my life as a missionary. 

You and I and every other Christian have an enemy that is doing everything he can to prevent us from finishing the race, to get us to decide it's too hard or too painful or the distractions sound a whole lot more enjoyable than running. He wants us to get entangled in sin. He wants us to become lazy. He wants us to decide that we aren't strong enough and God isn't big enough to help us finish.  

And sometimes he wins. I've watched so many people I know and love walk away from the faith in pursuit of sin. They decide holiness is too hard. They decide God really isn't good and his way is really just restraining and evil. I've seen pastors leave churches and denounce the faith. I've watched those I care about become so lazy that they just sit down on the road and completely stop running. They say they're just catching their breath, that they'll start running in just a few minutes, and then they never do. They never start running again because the ease of sitting is much more alluring than the discipline of running. 

2 Timothy 4:3-4 warns us of this: "For a time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from truth and turn aside to myths."

So, we should not be surprised when this happens. When those who claimed to be Christians are revealed for what they have always been. When people walk away and give into to their desires, selfishness and sin. We should take this as a warning that we are not above being tempted and falling away in the same way.

Verse 5 continues on saying: "But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry."

So how do we keep from giving up, falling away, and being disqualified from the race? Keeping our mind saturated in truth so it does not become confused by half-truths and deceiving lies from the world and the enemy, endure the hardship that comes from ministry and life in general by crying out to God when our flesh is weak and we don't have the physical strength to keep running, and continue doing the work--don't sit down, don't make a pit stop on your run to Denny's for pancakes and shakes--keep running, keep serving, keep being faithful. 

So, even though I find myself tired, annoyed and longing for the comforts of familiarity, I will keep running this race because the minor pains now aren't even worth comparing to that feeling of euphoria when I reach home again.

And this time it won't be euphoria that lasts 15 minutes, but euphoria that will last forever.  

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day--and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing" (2 Timothy 4:7-8).

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S

Four-Legged Lessons in Love

 

Napping with Milo--his favorite place to sleep was on my chest or on top of any other piece of clothing that smelled like me. 

I've never been much of an "animal person." 

I know, lock me up, I'm the heartless lunatic that never gushed over someone else's puppy or cat or whatever small creature they had with them (babies included). 

From a very young age, I was babysitting other people's children and watching other people's animals, and here's what I learned: animals and children consume your life. 

What I tried to explain away as just my personality not being compatible with high energy animals or fears of not being a good enough parent, really just boiled down to selfishness. And I am an incredibly selfish person.   

I covet my alone time, my space, and I viciously defend the corners of my life nobody can see or touch or know anything about. I love quiet and peace and feeling no obligation to talk to anyone. 

My ideal weekend is backpacking in the woods completely alone, surrounded by birds and occasional deer who couldn't care less what I am doing. 

And so, you can imagine my surprise when, without thinking, I scoop up a 2-month-old puppy wandering in front of my apartment one dark Saturday night. 

My colleague stood beside me, eyeing me and the dirt-coated ball of fur in my arms. "Are you going to keep that?" they asked. 

I looked down at the shaking configuration of skin and bones, pushing its nose in the crook of my arm. "What else am I supposed to do with it?" I asked. Picking up the puppy may have been impulsive, but putting the puppy back in the street where he was surely going to die would be deliberate and cruel.

So, I did what anyone else would have done--I kept him. After my colleague wished me good luck with a chuckle and a shake of their head, I brought the puppy inside and gave it a bath. 

It was clear from the lack of fur, sores, and scabies that this puppy had probably been born on the streets and abandoned as the runt of the litter. I had no idea how to "own a dog" much less fix a very sick one. 

The night I brought Milo home. He fell asleep quickly after I gave him a bath. 

I called my sister and brother-in-law and surprised them with my latest impulsive decision. I played it off as nothing big, told them I wasn't even sure I would keep him, and said maybe I would find someone else who wanted him because, after all, I am not an animal person anyway. 

But that night, as the puppy cried and whimpered all night, I found my heart growing soft. And as much as I tried to play off getting attached, I spent hours looking up the perfect dog name until I finally settled on Milo which means peaceful or merciful. 

The next day I took Milo to the vet and was told that in addition to having scabies and worms, he also had anemia. I was given medicine and sent home. 

The days that followed are kind of a blur. I spent very little time sleeping and much time holding Milo who loved the smell of my clothes and only wanted to be sleeping if he was on me or on a piece of my clothing that I had worn recently. 

I began imagining what Milo would be like when he got better, stronger, healthier. I imagined him going on runs with me, cuddling with me while I read, and simply being a companion. 

But there were moments of frustration, of tears. I remember calling a friend and just crying on FaceTime while I held Milo wrapped in a towel because every time I walked away from Milo he would cry, but I was so scared of getting scabies that I didn't want to hold him for long periods of time. 

There were moments when I was going to the vet every single day for a week, thinking that this isn't what I thought this would be like, wishing I had never picked him up in the first place. 

I remember when Milo began vomiting every time he ate and then eventually refused to eat anything at all. 

I remember laying on my kitchen floor while he laid on my favorite tye dye shirt, begging him to eat so he could get better, wondering why I cared so much about a dog that just the other day I had fantasized about putting back in the streets. 

And then Milo died, and I cried real tears because I learned the love that little puppy that I never wanted in the first place. 

And as I packed up the collar and leash that Milo hardly got to use, donated the bag of food Milo never ate, and threw away the cardboard box he used for a bed, I realized that this is the kind of love that we are called to exhibit as Christians and the same kind of love that goes against the very grain of our nature. 

The kind of love that keeps giving when we get nothing in return. Love that chooses to give when we might get hurt. 

I knew there was a possibility Milo wouldn't make it. I knew there was a possibility he would never get better. I knew that choosing to get attached to him came with a very real possibility of heartbreak. 

Ephesians 2:2-3 says: "And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience--among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind." 

To love God, a spouse, an animal or a child is not natural for us. Our nature is selfishness, indifference to the needs of others, and the quintessential romantic comedy character--terrified of commitment, caring about someone until the point it doesn't benefit them anymore, and allowing their selfishness to justify being unfaithful. 

It's embarrassing to admit, but I used to think that those who decided to get married or have kids were somehow taking an easier route than choosing to be single, which was only me trying to make myself feel better about being single by putting others down (sin is really ugly, isn't it?).

But I now realize that it's actually much easier to be single and allow your selfishness to remain unchecked. You don't realize how deep your self-centeredness runs until you are asked to put yourself aside for a spouse or a child. I now realize how much of a sacrifice of self it requires to vow your life to another, to surrender your body to the needs of a child, and give up every sacred moment of space, time, and silence.   

So, where's the hope when all of us are just selfish little goblins screaming about "my precious" anytime anyone tried to pull our coveted alone time from our clutched fists? 

Ephesians 2 continues on and says: "But God being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you have been saved--and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Jesus Christ. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast" (vs. 4-8). 

Our only hope to love how Christ calls us to love is through Christ; through his example of such selfless acts of love toward us on the day he was hung on the tree for our sins, and every single day since. 

It's through being so astounded that he chooses to love us and even shower us with blessings when we haven't taken the time to pray or spend a single minute with him in months. 

It's through his life-transforming power that gives us a new heart--removes our heart of stone that refuses to love, refuses to trust, refuses to let anyone inside, and gives us a tender heart of flesh that chooses to love even when it doesn't give any rewards back and feels like it requires more of us than we have to give. 

And so for the seven days that God allowed me to know Milo, he taught me some lessons in love that will last much longer. 

You are loved and you are not alone, 

S