Minneapolis hasn't warmed up quite yet. We've had a few days that have flirtatiously batted their eyes at 70+ degree weather, but those days have been scarce. Very scare. The way I see it, one way to make the most of such beautiful weather is to go for a jog.
It was a beautiful day with a radiant sun and Minneapolites milling about, pushing strollers, watching their young ones, spending time with friends, or going for a job themselves. It was picturesque and hopefully a foretaste of the summer to come. The difficult thing were my individual mile times. I knew that if I pushed myself too hard, I might throw up, and that sounded awful, so I tried to pace myself. For my own dignity's (pride's) sake, I will neither reveal the miles nor the time for my run that day. The first half was glorious, but when I turned around to head back home, my legs were much less amicable towards my request for movement. In other words, I was pooped.
I finally got home and cooled down for about half of the time that it took me to run. I didn't make any spiritual-reality connection until my second extended run which I took last week. This was much different. I had now been in more of a consistent exercising habit, and I could feel that my body was much more accustomed to workouts. The other difference was that it had started to rain. The rain started slowly, and I kept plodding along. I started to breathe more heavily and my legs started to feel heavier.
The sky darkened.
The wind picked up.
Huge drops of rain cascaded from the sky, drenching my clothes, and probably ruining my earbuds.
But here's what happened: my pace quickened.
I noticed after about a minute of the rain that my strides were much longer, and my breathing was much more controlled. I wasn't focusing on either of those things, but I noticed a marked difference in my determination and my body's control over my waning stamina. By the time I had finished, I looked at my timer and realized that I had shaved 6-8 minutes off of the time that it had taken to finish the first half of the run.
Then I got to thinking about how interesting of a parallel the comparison is of my first run to my second run. The first run looked easy. It was pleasant. It wasn't ostensibly challenging, but I had nothing to push me other than my own self. The constant sunshine tired my body and dried out my mouth, forcing me to focus much harder if I wanted to make any progress at all.
What a difference running in the downpour made! It wasn't pleasant. It wasn't fun. I wasn't able to work on my tan (or lack thereof). I didn't want to look around and enjoy the scenery. I just wanted to get home. But, I didn't have to focus and exert crazy strength like I would have had to if I was in the sun. My legs naturally adapted and my lungs overcame their difficulties to get through the rain as quickly as I could.
Paul uses the illustration of running a race at least 3 different times in the New Testament, so I believe that I'm in good company. The seasons of life that are enjoyable, fun, and not particularly pain-laden should be enjoyed. My sun run was certainly enjoyable; but it was also very difficult to sustain a lively clip because it was just that nice. Similarly, in the times of boon and blessing, it is so easy for our time in the Word and our time in prayer to fall off a cliff, because we don't feel like we need God anymore. That what the rain does. Those rainy seasons remind us so vividly of how we do need God, and it is often in those times that we don't even consider not spending time with Him because we know that we can't survive without Him. Rain has that affect of naturally picking up our pace for us and revealing the Lifter of our head.
Don't despise the rainy seasons. Use the constant reminders to drive you all the more often to your knees in prayer and self-losing reliance on the only One who saves, delivers, and restores.
God is our hope.
.DSN.
It was a beautiful day with a radiant sun and Minneapolites milling about, pushing strollers, watching their young ones, spending time with friends, or going for a job themselves. It was picturesque and hopefully a foretaste of the summer to come. The difficult thing were my individual mile times. I knew that if I pushed myself too hard, I might throw up, and that sounded awful, so I tried to pace myself. For my own dignity's (pride's) sake, I will neither reveal the miles nor the time for my run that day. The first half was glorious, but when I turned around to head back home, my legs were much less amicable towards my request for movement. In other words, I was pooped.
I finally got home and cooled down for about half of the time that it took me to run. I didn't make any spiritual-reality connection until my second extended run which I took last week. This was much different. I had now been in more of a consistent exercising habit, and I could feel that my body was much more accustomed to workouts. The other difference was that it had started to rain. The rain started slowly, and I kept plodding along. I started to breathe more heavily and my legs started to feel heavier.
The sky darkened.
The wind picked up.
Huge drops of rain cascaded from the sky, drenching my clothes, and probably ruining my earbuds.
But here's what happened: my pace quickened.
I noticed after about a minute of the rain that my strides were much longer, and my breathing was much more controlled. I wasn't focusing on either of those things, but I noticed a marked difference in my determination and my body's control over my waning stamina. By the time I had finished, I looked at my timer and realized that I had shaved 6-8 minutes off of the time that it had taken to finish the first half of the run.
Then I got to thinking about how interesting of a parallel the comparison is of my first run to my second run. The first run looked easy. It was pleasant. It wasn't ostensibly challenging, but I had nothing to push me other than my own self. The constant sunshine tired my body and dried out my mouth, forcing me to focus much harder if I wanted to make any progress at all.
What a difference running in the downpour made! It wasn't pleasant. It wasn't fun. I wasn't able to work on my tan (or lack thereof). I didn't want to look around and enjoy the scenery. I just wanted to get home. But, I didn't have to focus and exert crazy strength like I would have had to if I was in the sun. My legs naturally adapted and my lungs overcame their difficulties to get through the rain as quickly as I could.
Paul uses the illustration of running a race at least 3 different times in the New Testament, so I believe that I'm in good company. The seasons of life that are enjoyable, fun, and not particularly pain-laden should be enjoyed. My sun run was certainly enjoyable; but it was also very difficult to sustain a lively clip because it was just that nice. Similarly, in the times of boon and blessing, it is so easy for our time in the Word and our time in prayer to fall off a cliff, because we don't feel like we need God anymore. That what the rain does. Those rainy seasons remind us so vividly of how we do need God, and it is often in those times that we don't even consider not spending time with Him because we know that we can't survive without Him. Rain has that affect of naturally picking up our pace for us and revealing the Lifter of our head.
Don't despise the rainy seasons. Use the constant reminders to drive you all the more often to your knees in prayer and self-losing reliance on the only One who saves, delivers, and restores.
God is our hope.
.DSN.
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