Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, (NRSV)
And in this sermon, I talked about how much I hated running. That I could think of few things worse than having to run for any distance or length of time.
And even though I've made some changes in my life that appear to be "healthier" than what I was doing before, and even though one of those changes has been to start a Couch To 5K program, I still am not a huge fan of running.
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| I even bought sweet running shoes. Courtesy of Nike |
Now, let me clarify. I love the feeling I get after I finish running, and there's a sense of accomplishment that accompanies beating my personal records (thank you iPhone for keeping track of those for me). And I've started to look forward to the run as a way for me to hit that feeling of accomplishment.
But as for the run itself?
It's painful, sometimes.
I find that I spend most of my time running making sure that I'm breathing and that I don't run into anybody else that's on the track at the local YMCA while I'm panting around in circles. Or else I'm mentally counting down the seconds (it always feels like more than it should) until the nice lady from my phone is going to tell me that it's time for me to begin running.
So maybe I'm still not there with the "runner's high" that I'm told will come as I run more and more. For me, the actual run is less exciting for its own sake and more of a discipline. It's the means to a goal - that is, weight loss and the sense of accomplishment.
And yet, day by day, this is slowly changing. Each run becomes easier than the last. Who knows? Maybe in a few weeks I'll actually be able to think about something besides my breathing when I run.
How I feel about running is also how I feel about spiritual practices.
I'm not the biggest fan. I find them to be painful at times. And like someone trying yoga for the first time (which I also plan on doing - crazy), I spend more of my time and energy focusing on the fact that I need to focus than I do on paying attention to God's presence in these times.
And I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm not alone here.
Sure, we have a culture full of "spiritual but not religious" people, but if we honestly assessed their spirituality, I think we would find that it's really just finding ways to create that "warm, fuzzy feeling" within themselves.
Because true spirituality is painful. It's scary.
And that's because God is scary. How often does the voice of God have to say, "be not afraid" whenever God needs to speak to someone? Hint: It's a lot.
And so, to develop and cultivate a practice that opens ourselves up to the fullness and majesty of God is absolutely terrifying. God is so much more than ourselves, that to open up to God is the equivalent of a brain freeze and a mind-splitting migraine at the same time.
The kind of painfulness that I feel about halfway through my run when my shins scream, "We quit!"
It might be life-giving at the end of the process. But not during it.
We just aren't able to fully comprehend or handle the majesty and power of God. Our brains can't contain all that God knows. Our hearts burst with amount of love and grace that God is trying to pour through us.
And more often than not, when we open ourselves up to God, we find that God is calling us to go somewhere we aren't going. To try something new. To make a change. And we all know how we feel about change deep down.
Kind of like when I started running, and then realized I had to do all sorts of other strength based exercises too. And had to make a change in my diet - apparently McDonald's all the time doesn't make for healthy running. Who knew?
So, often, instead of running to spirituality, we run from true spirituality.
Instead of exercising our heart's capacity to love and our mind's capacity to understand, we keep those muscles from being used. We allow them to decay - instead focusing in on ourselves. Basically the opposite of spirituality.
But perhaps, when we lay aside our burdens of sin -t hose personal and cultural demons that keep us from developing a relationship with God, we can truly begin to run. And maybe we can start enjoying the process of running for its own sake.
We can develop truly spiritual practices that open ourselves up to the Creator of the Universe, and become an outlet for the transformative grace that God continually gives.
And maybe, just maybe, like I may someday discover the joy of running for its own sake, we might develop truly spiritual practices that deepen our religious rituals and lives.
And yet, day by day, this is slowly changing. Each run becomes easier than the last. Who knows? Maybe in a few weeks I'll actually be able to think about something besides my breathing when I run.
How I feel about running is also how I feel about spiritual practices.
I'm not the biggest fan. I find them to be painful at times. And like someone trying yoga for the first time (which I also plan on doing - crazy), I spend more of my time and energy focusing on the fact that I need to focus than I do on paying attention to God's presence in these times.
And I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm not alone here.
Sure, we have a culture full of "spiritual but not religious" people, but if we honestly assessed their spirituality, I think we would find that it's really just finding ways to create that "warm, fuzzy feeling" within themselves.
Because true spirituality is painful. It's scary.
And that's because God is scary. How often does the voice of God have to say, "be not afraid" whenever God needs to speak to someone? Hint: It's a lot.
And so, to develop and cultivate a practice that opens ourselves up to the fullness and majesty of God is absolutely terrifying. God is so much more than ourselves, that to open up to God is the equivalent of a brain freeze and a mind-splitting migraine at the same time.
The kind of painfulness that I feel about halfway through my run when my shins scream, "We quit!"
It might be life-giving at the end of the process. But not during it.
We just aren't able to fully comprehend or handle the majesty and power of God. Our brains can't contain all that God knows. Our hearts burst with amount of love and grace that God is trying to pour through us.
And more often than not, when we open ourselves up to God, we find that God is calling us to go somewhere we aren't going. To try something new. To make a change. And we all know how we feel about change deep down.
Kind of like when I started running, and then realized I had to do all sorts of other strength based exercises too. And had to make a change in my diet - apparently McDonald's all the time doesn't make for healthy running. Who knew?
So, often, instead of running to spirituality, we run from true spirituality.
Instead of exercising our heart's capacity to love and our mind's capacity to understand, we keep those muscles from being used. We allow them to decay - instead focusing in on ourselves. Basically the opposite of spirituality.
But perhaps, when we lay aside our burdens of sin -t hose personal and cultural demons that keep us from developing a relationship with God, we can truly begin to run. And maybe we can start enjoying the process of running for its own sake.
We can develop truly spiritual practices that open ourselves up to the Creator of the Universe, and become an outlet for the transformative grace that God continually gives.
And maybe, just maybe, like I may someday discover the joy of running for its own sake, we might develop truly spiritual practices that deepen our religious rituals and lives.
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