You know when people make that cliche' comment about muscles they didn't know they had being sore? I tried to find a better way to say that this weekend, but nada. Seriously, I think if you'd asked me yesterday I could have pointed specifically to every single one of the 640 muscles I have and said, "it hurts there." Although pointing might have been difficult considering half of those muscles had relegated themselves to a self-imposed time-out.
Why I initially thought it would be a good idea to bike with my dad's youth group (the lovely Fairfield Baptist of Centerville, TN. HOLLA!) across the state of Tennessee I'm not really sure. These things always sound awesome when they are not immediately imminent. I started out on track with my training. Found some new trails and bike paths in the Burg. All was well. Then I succeeded in busting up two bikes in rapid succession and finding myself in and out of sickness for three weeks. So much for training.
Honestly, I went this weekend thinking I might do one rotation and then just hang out, Tweet, and take a few pics. Unbeknownst to me, I got scheduled for three 15 mile rotations. I am SO out of shape, but when they call your name as "on deck," wimping out loses all appeal. I am not going to be the one who quits. And I'm wearing my padded bike shorts, so, game on.
There have been many times that I've pushed myself to a physical limit, that's not really anything impressive. But this time, there was something remarkably different about the experience. This wasn't about me or anyone else on the team. We were all riding for something bigger than us. There are people in Hickman County Tennessee who desperately need the love of Jesus, and this little group of teenagers had found a way to create a place where they could help create those conversations. Passion is contagious. And when you can sense the power of God through prayer fueling you, it's like being unstoppable. The road was rising up to meet us, and we were eating it up.
By the time I reached my final 15 mile rotation I was working on about 2 hours of sleep after 36 hours on the road and had 30 miles under my pedals (not really that awesome when you consider those guys who went up the Cumberland Plateau or logged over 100 miles). Thank the Lord He made West Tennessee more flat than the East. Every little hill was like torture. A couple times I literally thought that if I went any slower I'd probably fall right over.
10 miles through that third ride (shortly after I decided to liven things up with my wreck), when every muscle was screaming that there was nothing left to give, I had an epiphany. This is what it's like to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and STRENGTH. You can do things in life out of selfish motives, or because of the everlasting love of God that has captivated and consumed you.
Paul says "Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize." (2 Cor. 9)
Loving God with all our strength doesn't necessarily mean something extreme. It does mean that we lay whatever we can accomplish physically at His feet. We are unafraid to sacrifice our mortal bodies, even unto death, because we know there's something bigger than this life. And let me tell you, it's amazing how when you love God with your strength, your heart, soul and mind start to align (and that works in any order!).
That became totally sealed in my my mind when at the end of the 15 miles I spotted the rest of the team cheering us to the finish from the top of a massive hill. My knee was bleeding and throbbing from my wreck and my body said I didn't have that last hill in me, but my heart said, "Almost home. None of that matters. Now I can see the end. Just finish. It's worth it." And it was.
I leave you with this...
"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Cor. 4)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Something to tweet "home" about?
Some species of birds come back to the same nest year after year. They build their little birdy lives with mud and straw salvaged from the parking lot medians that vainly tried to protect new grass seed from hungry beaks. One day you go to remove the nest and realize that it's full of tiny grey, brown-speckled eggs. A few weeks later a chorus of chirps wakes you up on Saturday morning at sunrise. Finally, they learn to fly, it's almost winter and they all head further South to keep from being snowed in at the holidays. The next year Mom and Pop bird are back–sans baby tweets–and sticking new mud and straw on the nest to begin the whole lovely process over again.
I know this because a few days ago maintenance finally removed one such aviary couple out of the beams above our porch. I felt kind of bad just on principle for uprooting their lives. I mean, it will probably feel like a life crisis when they come back to Virginia in the Spring and find out they've been added to the list of displaced families. But then I realized that I have a really difficult time identifying with that somewhat obnoxious bird couple, not just because I don't generally eat worms or sit on eggs, but because the idea of keeping a nest in one place hasn't really been on my radar screen.
It's looking like I'm probably slated for a few more engagements with UHaul before I kick the proverbial bucket and find a more permanent place to plant myself (at Polk Memorial Garden's via Williams Funeral Home in Columbia, TN...Lauren, you can give me my kickback later :). Like it or not, every two years I start to get restless.
What I'm realizing lately is that the more I try to settle down into one idea of home, one identity, one life-goal to navigate the oceans of life by, the more I think the only constant might be the wanderlust. There are so many places to go, so many people to love and so many things to be accomplished, how can I possibly stay still?
But it's more than that. I don't seem to need to go out and chase down adventure. I don't have to run for the sake of running. As I keep my eye to the sky in daily life, always asking of each situation presented to me, "How does this factor in? How can I, right now, contribute to making something great happen here?" I find that my knowledge, skills, relationships and possibilities are expanding. I'm going places I've been seeing on the news and meeting people I used to read about in books. Why would I even WANT to tame that jungle of experience down into a manageable botanical garden?
I may wake up tomorrow to find my nest of mud and straw has been disassembled and I'm forced to move on. Guess I'd probably cry a little at first, but hey, the view from the new rafters will probably be even better.
I know this because a few days ago maintenance finally removed one such aviary couple out of the beams above our porch. I felt kind of bad just on principle for uprooting their lives. I mean, it will probably feel like a life crisis when they come back to Virginia in the Spring and find out they've been added to the list of displaced families. But then I realized that I have a really difficult time identifying with that somewhat obnoxious bird couple, not just because I don't generally eat worms or sit on eggs, but because the idea of keeping a nest in one place hasn't really been on my radar screen.
It's looking like I'm probably slated for a few more engagements with UHaul before I kick the proverbial bucket and find a more permanent place to plant myself (at Polk Memorial Garden's via Williams Funeral Home in Columbia, TN...Lauren, you can give me my kickback later :). Like it or not, every two years I start to get restless.
What I'm realizing lately is that the more I try to settle down into one idea of home, one identity, one life-goal to navigate the oceans of life by, the more I think the only constant might be the wanderlust. There are so many places to go, so many people to love and so many things to be accomplished, how can I possibly stay still?
But it's more than that. I don't seem to need to go out and chase down adventure. I don't have to run for the sake of running. As I keep my eye to the sky in daily life, always asking of each situation presented to me, "How does this factor in? How can I, right now, contribute to making something great happen here?" I find that my knowledge, skills, relationships and possibilities are expanding. I'm going places I've been seeing on the news and meeting people I used to read about in books. Why would I even WANT to tame that jungle of experience down into a manageable botanical garden?
I may wake up tomorrow to find my nest of mud and straw has been disassembled and I'm forced to move on. Guess I'd probably cry a little at first, but hey, the view from the new rafters will probably be even better.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
crazy little thing called love/life.
It's like being exquisitely, painfully, passionately, exhiliratingly in love. The kind of love that makes your cheeks glow like they've been out in the crisp air of early winter and your eyes sparkle like moonlight on the ocean waves. Laughter bubbles up because it can't be contained, songs burst forth because there is so much to sing about and tears fall freely because they are unafraid. That is how I feel about my life.
Many genuinely difficult things are present in my life, so many challenges for which I am certain to be inadequate, and so many things that could make me want to quit. But there has never been such a wealth of life before me either. On one hand life is like being deep in the trenches of battle, but on the other I fight with the absolute knowledge that the outcome of the war swings in my favor. Difficulty becomes easy.
There is nothing about my life that I would change, and yet nothing that I am afraid to let go of. Do not mistake this for flippancy, or a false sense of detachment. I know well the measure of sacrifice already asked. I cannot pretend to know the breadth to which this will extend. But this depth of joy flows from learning to surrender. Though I may resist at first, by His grace the letting go will continue.
I have never been so at rest in who I am. Certainly it has taken me a while to see carved out before me an identity which I can begin to understand as my own. And I have no doubt that this will continue to be forged and refined. But I know myself in ways I could not have without taking the journey so far. More importantly, I know more deeply the God who created me. All that I am is at His mercy. For me there is no surviving apart from Him.
An abundance of amazing people overflow in my life. People who know how to embrace life and invite others to do the same. People who love others deeply and selflessly not because they are perfect, but because they too are being transformed by the unconquerable love of God. And people who are unafraid of raw, honest failure, vulnerability or transparency because they know that life is sometimes leaping, sometimes walking, sometimes crawling and a whole, whole lot of falling.
The possibilities of what can be are breathtaking. It's driving down a road you've never explored before. It's holding a new baby for the first time. I have no time to cling to what has been, no energy to waste on regrets, only the power to look what is right now in the eye and embrace it for all that it is. I love every second, and yet I still can't wait for this Earth part to be over so the real fun can begin on the other side!
Many genuinely difficult things are present in my life, so many challenges for which I am certain to be inadequate, and so many things that could make me want to quit. But there has never been such a wealth of life before me either. On one hand life is like being deep in the trenches of battle, but on the other I fight with the absolute knowledge that the outcome of the war swings in my favor. Difficulty becomes easy.
There is nothing about my life that I would change, and yet nothing that I am afraid to let go of. Do not mistake this for flippancy, or a false sense of detachment. I know well the measure of sacrifice already asked. I cannot pretend to know the breadth to which this will extend. But this depth of joy flows from learning to surrender. Though I may resist at first, by His grace the letting go will continue.
I have never been so at rest in who I am. Certainly it has taken me a while to see carved out before me an identity which I can begin to understand as my own. And I have no doubt that this will continue to be forged and refined. But I know myself in ways I could not have without taking the journey so far. More importantly, I know more deeply the God who created me. All that I am is at His mercy. For me there is no surviving apart from Him.
An abundance of amazing people overflow in my life. People who know how to embrace life and invite others to do the same. People who love others deeply and selflessly not because they are perfect, but because they too are being transformed by the unconquerable love of God. And people who are unafraid of raw, honest failure, vulnerability or transparency because they know that life is sometimes leaping, sometimes walking, sometimes crawling and a whole, whole lot of falling.
The possibilities of what can be are breathtaking. It's driving down a road you've never explored before. It's holding a new baby for the first time. I have no time to cling to what has been, no energy to waste on regrets, only the power to look what is right now in the eye and embrace it for all that it is. I love every second, and yet I still can't wait for this Earth part to be over so the real fun can begin on the other side!
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