E N D U R E
Ever go running? Well, I started about four years ago when I went to college. I didn't run regularly, and still don't, unless you consider once or twice every so often to be a regular routine. When I run - if any of you run or try to run every now and then, you may be able sympathize with what I'm about to say - after the first quarter of a mile I am drowning in sweat. From time to time I lick my lips. Salty. Tasty. My mind questions why I even interrupted a pleasant sleep to torture my body with a mile's run; sometimes two miles. I've reached the half mile marker. My legs are numb; it wouldn't surprise me if they go lame, leaving my momentum to carry me forward without the support of my legs. Pavement, an unpleasant acquaintance. This has yet to happen to me, but the vivid image painted in my mind shares a thousand reasons why I should give up. Have you ever been so worn out that you decide to stop and quit? My lungs are in pain. Breathing is rough, sometimes gasping. I can't imagine hearing the sounds spewing out of my mouth, projecting sweat and spit in correspondence. Have you been there? Have you ever had to fight your mind telling you to quit. Have you ever found yourself persisting, pushing, finishing, and finally rejoicing? The feeling of accomplishment. A mile of trodden, dreaded path lingering behind in the wake of weary endurance. I honestly envy those who can push out five, ten miles in a day. They may look at my one mile and wince in their pride, with a complementary smirk. To them, that mile is a downhill breeze, but for me, it is an uphill battle. Why? Because I'm battling more than just the pain of the run.
This morning, I woke up. I was going to finish mowing the lawn. But, the lawn mower wouldn't start, which is why I didn't finish mowing in the first place. So I decided to go for a run. So there I was, on a cool, partly cloudy morning. Perfect for a run. I came to a stop sign in my neighborhood, hung a wide left. The neighborhood street was occupied by another runner. "There's a stray dog back there, but he's friendly." He mentioned. Duly noted. The street bent sharply to the right. The beautiful, off-white colored lab mix prowled the yard of a house sitting at the bend. I passed without problem. Two-hundred feet later, I heard several constant clicking sounds riding up my six. I glanced back. It was the dog. Tongue flapping out the side of its mouth, gruel slapping off into the air. I ran two miles with the company of a beautiful, panting dog. Every now and then, it would veer off to a house on the left, regroup, travel a few hundred feet and veer off to a house on the right. On my second mile, the dog stayed at my side or at my heel the whole way. I had only planned on running for a mile. But I had someone running with me, and I found energy I did not have, and motivation to give out more than I realized I could. But this is not the double bubble, only a reflection of it.
Bear with me. Persevere, endure a little bit longer. You will reach the end of this post. I just have one last thing to share, this week's double bubble. Did you know that life is like a race? You know how you have that natural high when you finish running or working out? It feels good. Well, life has its natural high too. Living for God, Jesus. Running this race is challenging, and we all know this to be true. This is how I picture it. There is the main path God has laid out for us to take. It's small. Sometimes there it is a smooth, level pavement path, sometimes it is a dirt path, a path laid with gravel. Sometimes there are bumps, wholes, or divots in the path and all other kinds of obstacles that make it hard to travel. Life is the same way. Sometimes its a smooth ride, sometimes a little bumpy, sometimes painful. Now, along this bath you will find optional routes to the finish line, claiming that their path is fast and easy. These paths are more like those conveyer belt walkways at airports. All you have to do is stand and it takes you. Exhausted and worn out; bent over breathing hard, sweating out every fiber of energy, trying to calm the throbbing pain, your mind tempts you to give up or take an easier path. Easy can be a danger in itself. Or a convincing guise. Those optional routes are tempting. But choosing to take those routes to the finish line is just another form of giving up and quitting. God doesn't just sit at the finish line watching and waiting for you to cross the finish and fall into his arms. No, when we run life's race, he doesn't sit by idly watching us with spectator eyes. Like the dog that ran with me this morning, God is there with us as we run the race of life. He is there to offer encouragement, guidance, strength when we run out; to help us up when we fall. He runs with us. Usually when I run, peace and content is absent. Today, even though the pain was as real as on any other day, I felt peace, because I did not run alone. Remember this also, you are not the only one running the race either. And know that this race is not against other people. Its about running and finishing strong. This is the double bubble, you do not have to run life's race alone. God is there, he is our endurance.
