Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Running and praying.


Last night I got myself up on the treadmill to the sad realization that summer television is really awful. I had already watched three episodes of “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives,” which is currently my cable obsession. And unfortunately A&E wasn’t airing “Storage Wars,” which has somehow become my treadmill go-to. I hadn’t uploaded new music or created a new playlist, so I turned to my only option left…audiobooks. Ya’ll know I love audiobooks, but they’re mostly reserved for long car rides alone. Something to keep my attention more closely than the radio or silence. But I’ve been feeling cranky and unusual, so I thought a good dose of my girl Shauna could help.

Now, I understand that most people don’t turn to Christian self-help while on the treadmill. Most of you listen to something slightly more upbeat or mindless while watching the digital timer tick down the minutes on the display, but when you’re at the bottom, nowhere to go but up, right?

So I turned on Shauna’s second book, “Bittersweet,” and by the second essay, I was getting exactly what I needed. I’m going to share some of my favorite moments from this excerpt with you because it is so powerfully true about this season in my life and a welcome reminder about how God gets us through the bitter and the sweet.

“Bittersweet is the practice of believing that we really do need both the bitter and the sweet, and that a life of nothing but sweetness rots both your teeth and your soul. Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our faces and the callouses on our hands. Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity. Bittersweet is courageous, gutsy, earthy.”

“This is what I’ve come to believe about change: it’s good, in the way that childbirth is good, and heartbreak is good, and failure is good. By that I mean that it’s incredibly painful, exponentially more so if you fight it, and also that it has the potential to open you up, to open life up, to deliver you right into the palm of God’s hand, which is where you wanted to be all along, except that you were too busy pushing and pulling your life into exactly what you thought it should be.”

“I believe that faith is less like following a GPS through a precise grid of city blocks, and more like being out at sea: a tricky journey, nonlinear and winding, the wind kicking up and then stalling. But what I really wanted in the middle of it all was some dry land and a computer-woman’s soothing voice leading me through the mess. If I’m honest, I prayed the way you order breakfast from a short-order cook: this is what I want. Period. Aren’t you getting this? I didn’t pray for God’s will to be done in my life, or, at any rate, I didn’t mean it. I prayed to be rescued, not redeemed. I prayed for it to get easier, not that I would be shaped in significant ways. I prayed for the waiting to be over, instead of trying to learn something about patience or anything else for that matter.”

So there, as a sweaty mess breathlessly pounding the rubber, I began to think about grace. So many times I’ve listed my grievances out for God one by one, making sure He knew how displeased I was with the present course. I told Him I was tired of waiting for the next job, the next city, the next season, the next happiness. I asked Him how he could leave me here without my family, without my closest friends, without M. I’ve blamed Him for my situation and asking Him what the heck he was waiting for to deliver me to something better than this. But not once have I asked him to shape me in ways that will change my life. I haven’t asked for grace or redemption or patience or forgiveness. And if I have, I certainly haven’t opened my life in acceptance to any of it.

And that’s not only true in my relationship with God. I’ve done a lot of blaming and hating and judging and begrudging at work and at home and in my best relationships. I’ve let my bitterness for this season seep into every aspect of my life instead of allowing the changes to work within me and around me. In another part of Shauna’s book she writes, “If you dig in and fight the changes, they will smash you to bits. They’ll hold you under, drag you across the rough sand, scare and confuse you. But if you can find it within yourself, in the wildest of seasons, just for a moment, to trust in the goodness of God, who made it all and holds it all together, you’ll find yourself drawn along to a whole new place, and there’s truly nothing sweeter.”

So tonight, even though it’s late, I’m getting back on the treadmill. I’m trying to be mindful and thoughtful and gracious and calm. And letting God’s will be done.

To loving the bitter and the sweet,

Lia

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