Running from...?

This afternoon, for the first time ever, I decided to run to music.

With Riley at my side, I pushed start on my pedometer and play on my ipod. We began to run. At the first sign of a slow song, I decided to make my way over to Kevin’s Kitchen Dance Playlist. My mission was this: every time the chorus plays, I had to double up, I had to run twice as fast.

Ha. Oh wow. When was the last time you’ve listened to Phil Collins “You’ll Be in My Heart”? I suggest you google it. Now. That chorus is WAY too long. Someone ought to talk with his producer about that song… can’t he consult with Justin Bieber and come up with a quicker catch phrase?

Next up was Kelly Clarkson’s “My Life Would Suck Without You” Yeah, I get it. I was thinking it too... “What kind of Kitchen Dance Playlist is this??” Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be the one to ask… I’d dance to that song if it weren’t for the fact that I was running, and at this point pissed at my attempt to be creative with my workout. Too stubborn to give up on my idea by the third song, I found myself really wishing that Kelly had never run into relationship issues… if it weren’t them, she wouldn’t have anything to sing about. My lungs would have appreciated the break as well.

By the time Pat Benatar came on with “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” my momentary Tourettes kicked in. I would have loved to her him with my best shot. I’m pretty sure I would have aimed for the pharynx; in hopes of being lucky enough to affect the vocal cords.
When Journey came on with “Don’t Stop Believing” I’m pretty sure I began reciting this to my dog, begging him to keep pace with me. Upon making it to our house, I collapsed in the grass. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who felt like they could vomit. Riley decided to nom on the tall pile of grass right beside me and then let out a satisfying burp. Ha, what a run! We shaved 6 minutes off of our 4 mile routine. My lungs felt every absent minute.

I’m going somewhere with this story. I promise.

After lying in the grass and watching the clouds, for who knows how long, Riley began to squirm at my side. Assuming he was just fidgeting because he was hungry, I disregarded him. It wasn’t until my intuition kicked in that I sat up. I found my neighbor, one who I have unfortunately been afraid of, standing in the street looking at me. Scared, I quickly jumped up, grabbed my stuff, and headed for the house. When I got to my front door, I thought about what happened to me earlier today…...

After class this morning, I jumped on the Light Rail (yay public transportation!) and headed for my dad’s office in Tempe. After deciding that I wasn’t quite ready to study, I decided to park myself on the grass outside of his office, overlooking A mountain, and journal for a while. The sunshine felt great and I couldn’t contain my smile. After being there a while, I noticed, in my periphery, that a man in a motorized wheelchair was heading my direction. My visual assessment concluded the following findings: his head was in a fixed position and he really only had mobility in the arm he was using to steer. When he came to the portion of the sidewalk that was just before me, he stopped. Surprised, I looked at him and smiled. He asked me if I was okay, if I was doing alright. Warmed to my soul I smiled and reassured him that I was, and then just as quickly as he’d stopped, he was going again.

I felt special. I was blown away by the fact that someone with obvious difficulties would care enough about a stranger to inquire about their current state. I was humbled, reminded that I wanted to be like that in life, in the lives of those around me. That threw the lid off of my grin and I’m pretty sure the receptionist at my dad’s front desk could see my filling, I was smiling so big. So touched. So special.

The point of my two stories?

Today, I was reminded of Jesus.

In Luke 10, you can find the story of the Good Samaritan, I will summarize here. In Jesus’ day, those two words were an oxymoron to the Jews. The story goes like this: a man was walking towards a city and was accosted by robbers. Beaten to a pulp, like Rodney King, he was left on the street to die. A pastor walked by him and kept walking, not only that, he crossed the street so as not be near him. Likewise, a man from prestigious heritage, honorable roots, walked by him and crossed to the other side of the street. But then *Spoiler Alert* a Samaritan (not particularly favored by the Jews) walked by him, and Jesus said that as he “came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion on him.” The story ends with the Samaritan man nursing the victim back to health.

This was demonstrated to me today. Although I hadn’t been accosted, the man in the wheelchair saw me, came to where I was, and showed compassion on my soul. So dear! My problem with high tailing it to the house today, my torment with running from my neighbor, who was still standing in the street, was this: I felt like I was as bad as the pastor, as bad as the levite. As I opened my door this evening -- knowing that my neighbor was behind me, with more conflict in his mind than what the victim encountered physically, in the story – tugged on my heart strings. Oh how I longed for the same boldness the handicapped man displayed today. I desired the same courage that the Samaritan embodied in the story. I wished that I had what it took to show compassion on this man, and to demonstrate to him that he too is someone special.


Sitting on the porch swing typing this and sharing the last of the Pirate's Booty. 3 for me. 1 for Riley. And my family wonders why I'm his favorite? What a cutie. :)

This week has been rough. I have felt, all week, like my thoughts are too loud for my head.

I drove to class on Tuesday because I didn't feel like having the patience to wait on Public Transportation. On my way to class, I felt like my thoughts swelled so big they occupied all of the empty space in my car. I have been in a remarkably melancholy mood this week and have had a sour attitude. I have recognized this mentality in myself, starting on Monday, but have had no intrinsic desire to do anything about it.

In the same way, my thoughts have been circling the toilet bowl. Do you ever have weeks where you feel like you're failing? I am not talking about circumstances (Surprisingly, I did remarkably well on my test on Monday... Not a fan of neuro). I mean have you ever felt like you're failing at living? I have woken up most mornings this week thinking "God, why? Why even get up?" I have felt like with each breath I am just failing more and more.

I couldn't really explain the feeling to you if I tried. The previous sentence is about as close as I can get. I'm not writing this, publicizing this on my blog, to get your attention -- I am not fishing for an encouraging word. I know the truth.

The truth is that it's not about me. It's not about what I can do or what I've done; it's about what Jesus has done for me. I get that. The reason I am writing this, is because I want you to know that if you've ever felt this way, you are not alone.

Moving on, at this point in my life, I know when I am avoiding God. I am habitual. If you know me well enough, you will probably know where to find me on Saturday night or even predict what I will order at any given coffee shop. In the same way, I have noticed two themes in my life, when it comes to my relationship with God.

One. I avoid God when I feel ashamed. No explanation needed here.

Two. I avoid Him when there is something else in my life that I am wanting to place on the throne of my heart. I don't even think this needs explaining.

Both are pitiful, I recognize, but are still reality to me. I avoid Him by keeping busy, preoccupying my life, my time, with silly things.

Today, after coming home from a Dr's appointment, I crashed on the carpet in the living room. Desperate, I threw up the arms of my heart in surrender. Hurting and aching in places of my soul that I didn't even know I had, I made the decision to posture myself before God. To stop avoiding. To turn. I read from Matthew 11 and prayed earnestly that I would be rested by God. Prayed that His yoke would manifest in my life, that the weariness in my heart would be removed. Prayed that I would find rest for my soul.

I'm pretty sure my dog didn't know what to do with me. As I was laying there on the floor, one by one, he brought me every toy in his toy box. He would deliver a toy, wag his tail, drop it at my side, and return for another one. I woke up an hour later to a squeaky toy under my back and a dog pouncing on me, thinking I was playing hide and seek with his toy. He's cute.

This post seems down cast. My apologies, my soul isn't there any more. I was writing about my week in my journal tonight and felt like I was supposed to share. Having weeks like this is NOT concerning to me. I believe that these kind of weeks are every bit as real in the life of faith, as weeks of bubbling joy. I do not shy away from the difficult weeks, the crappy weeks, to be frank. They don't scare me. I know that in the end, my soul will relinquish, Christ will be, yet again, the victor and life will go on.

Be encouraged this night, that if you've ever experienced these feelings, you are not alone. If you are avoiding God for one reason or another (be it shame or the desire to be like the Israelites and place something else in the center stage of your heart), I pray that the gracious Spirit of the living God will woo you back to Himself. Know that when you are faced with presence of the living God, whatever you are struggling with today, won't even matter.

Know that you are never too far gone for God's kindness. Know that you are never too dirty to turn and accept His holiness. Know that the shame you have been carrying can be removed, the blood and death and new life of Jesus can set you free -- cause you to feel light again. I speak of these truths, not because of what I've read. Not because of the doctrine I have studied or debates I have won. I speak of these truths because I have experienced them for myself. The LORD God has been gracious in my life; even when I obviously miss the mark, Jesus exceeds. May your soul find hope in Him tonight, the only one capable of making you whole.

Learn, learning, learned.

Last night, as I was about to surrender into sleep, my eyes shot open.

Awake from a thought I had had, I knew that imminent sleep was no longer possible. The thought seemed silly and I couldn't figure out where it had come from. It was as if it had just been dropped into subconscious and made a big splash when it landed.

The thought was this: if I were to become terminally ill, who would stick with me? Out of all the relationships in my life, who would put their life on pause to visit me, to love me? Family was a given. But after that, the numbers were realistically small.

My thoughts then migrated to this: who would I put my life on pause for? Who means so much to me, that regardless of their state or condition, I would make the effort to show them how much I care? And of these people, do they know today, in their well-being, how much they mean to me?

Here I am, in the library, less than 12 hours later, and there is more irony in those words than I would care to admit.

Lesson from today: If you love someone, let them know.