Because We Are Changed By It

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have all been told through the years in a parental kind of way that exercise is good for us.  And there is no quicker way to make exercise into something gruesome.  No quicker way to drain the fun out of it.  Just let me run and enjoy it.

But whether exercise is fun or a chore, we are changed by it in incremental ways.  In a New York Times article last weekend, author Gretchen Reynolds expounded on the physiology of physical exercise.  In all of its forms -- cycling, walking, running, hiking, swimming, whatever-- exercise is not just what we do, but what it does to us, cell by cell, minute by minute, step by step.

"But we still know surprisingly little about just how exercise changes us for the better," wrote Reynolds. "What are the many, interconnected biological steps and transmutations that allow a walk today to add to our life span decades from now?"

And it made me think how even more we are changed too by intentional and interconnected spiritual habits, transformed by God day by day, minute by minute, step by step, even when we don't realize what God is doing in our deepening intimacy with Him.

When I read that article about exercise, I immediately thought about a friend of mine long ago who battled cancer for a number of years.  Instead of being defeated by her dire circumstances, she was instead an immense blessing to everyone around her.  I heard that when she went to the hospital for her treatments, nurses would fight over who got to be assigned to her.  She was that kind of a joyful person caring for others, even as others cared for her.  Even as she lay on the gurney receiving her painful radiation treatments, she did not grumble.  She sang hymns as she lay there, thinking she was singing only to herself, but the melodies infiltrated down the hallway.  Her strong resolve could not be explained away as if she was just naturally strong and cheerful.  She had been trained for this hard place through the every days --years of seeking and serving God, praying, marinating in His Word, and loving others well. 

And those things can't help but do something to you.  She was changed by God in tangible ways. 

In his classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers points out:

"If we do not do the running steadily in the little ways, we shall do nothing in the crisis."

God changes us, day by day, step by step, verse by verse, prayer by prayer, grace by grace, even in ways we are not aware.  Strength does not come suddenly, but built over time in layers.

Every time we exercise, our cells change a little bit more.  We don't "just" exercise.  Every day, we follow God into what He lays before us, He strengthens us not just for today, but building His strength in us for decades from now.  Not just for the finish line, not just for ourselves, but the strength to help others along the way, for His glory in every step.

 

Train yourselves in godliness.

For while bodily training is of some value,

godliness is of value

             in every way,

as it holds promise for the present life

   and also for the life to come.

                         1 Timothy 4. 7-8

 

This much I can do

I have the privilege to run almost daily through a sanctuary of trees, season after season, a changing landscape, embracing the shade of these towering giants, contemplating their innate majesty, and seizing a glimpse of the glory of God in their uplifted limbs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am blessed by someone's hard work of planting trees that grew and bore fruit beyond their lifetimes.  I am blessed by the generosity of others, now long gone, who had the vision of preserving some land they possessed and letting the trees of the forest thrive for the enjoyment of people they would never know.  I am one of them.  

Did those people realize how their ordinary efforts would have taken root?  They could have harvested the trees and sold the land to a developer.  But they didn't.  They chose a different legacy -- to be a witness of what they were able, to be faithful with what God had given, even when it may have seemed at the time something as ordinary and mundane as letting a tree grow.  These were average people who practiced beauty in their spare moments.

I want to whisper back to them:  "Well done, good and faithful servant."  (Matthew 25. 21)  God redeems in ways we cannot know.  The forest testifies before me what faithfulness looks like.

In her fifty year old book Especially at Christmas, author Celestine Sibley wrote:

“Ma had a calendar a patent medicine salesman give her with pictures of Great Americans on it.  She always though every last one of us would be Great Americans.”

He grinned.

“None of us ever got our pictures on a calendar that I know of.  But I have a sister that’s a missionary, three brothers that are preachers and one that’s a doctor.”

“And you?” I asked.

“I plant trees,” he said with dignity.

And what do we do?  Watch the two-minute video on this link if you want to be reminded how God is using you to restore and change the world.

We can be faithful in whatever He has given us to do. Mundane does not appear in God's dictionary. We have no conception of what God is doing through this.  Just that He is.

Faithfulness has no concern for celebrity or recognition or success.  Just responding to God's divine appointments of which we are surrounded day by day, most of which we are unaware.  Would we hesitate if we knew what God does with that kind word that sticks in a heart sixty years later, an encouragement that changes someone's day or direction, the restoration God brings through a single act of grace, or someone observing a hard job well-done?  Or even the planting of trees?

And what about today?  

I can't do everything,

      but I can do something.

I don't need big wins

         or even small ones,

but taking step by incremental step,

    following Him into it.

God never works in singular outcomes.  Faithfulness always results in a million galaxies exploding in the heavens, in which His glory is revealed. 

Later in Sibley's book, she quotes that faithful tree-planter once again:  “You do what you can to help when you see the need,” he said simply. “What happens then is up to the Lord.” 

There is nothing but nothing

         God does not multiply for His glory.

Not the path we would have chosen

Today is the last day of November, and when I arose, it was the fresh beginning of advent and suddenly winter,  the temperatures actually plummeting from hour to hour, the misty rain turning into a light snow, the skies a dense steel gray.  Perfect weather for a run, I thought. I changed from my sweatshirt to a fleece jacket and dug through a basket in the back of the closet for gloves and a hat.  

It is all in what you are wearing, I have learned over the years, sometimes the hard way. 

And in this preposterous year of 2020, we've all had to change what we have worn, changed our expectations, put on His strength, and carried pockets full of grace.

I love a winter run over the river and through the woods.  The path I usually take is not straight, but curves gently around the hills and enlarges the view on the ridge, a crooked way up the slopes complete with some dirt trails, potholes, cracked pavement, but never boring.  And sometimes I am surprised along the way with shy deer peeking out in unexpected places.

I ran under the black lace of tree branches against the leaden sky.  By all appearances, the trees look dead, but they are only resting from a busy autumn and sending down roots deeper in the soil.  

And I am reminded that wilderness in the Bible is not a fearful place, but where God's glory grows, where His paths lead us to another dimension of Him, a deeper abiding, and outcomes we never could have expected.  "Yes, you can trust Me in this too." The unknown is not unknown to Him.

Eight hundred years before the birth of Christ, the prophet Isaiah wrote, not realizing that almost three thousand years later we would still be cherishing his words:

A voice cries,

In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD; 

make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be lifted up,

and every mountain and hill be made low;

the uneven ground shall become level,

and the rough places a plain.

And the glory of the LORD

             shall be revealed...

                           Isaiah 40. 3-5 

There is immense beauty around us, even in the really rough places and uneven ground, even when the trees no longer provide shade, even when these hills seem to go on forever.  Because God is with us.

How can I prepare Your way, O LORD?

        Guide my steps.

        Align my heart with Yours.

        Open my eyes

           to Your majesty all around me.

This year of 2020 was not the path we would have chosen,

                    but still there is Your glory in it,

                    Your incredible designs,

                    Your love and faithfulness,

                                       more than we can fathom.

I was only slightly reluctant to step away from the warmth of the house this morning, because I knew, while it may be really cold, His beauty would astonish my fear away.  And I would return a little bit different, reminded of Who has prepared His way for me in this day.  

The wilderness is not marked by absence and affliction, but filled by His Presence.

Prayer flags

Just this past week, I was running through a breathtaking sanctuary of trees in the park, thinking, absorbing the incredible beauty of creation, and praying as I often do on a run.  There is nothing like going on a run to stir up the deepest parts of my heart, to bring needs of others to the surface, to listen and respond.

Our country right now is in a mess -- the not-going-away-anytime-soon pandemic, unrest, protests, and oh, an election that seems like a made-for-tv movie. 

We have complained.  We have grumbled. We have been dismayed. We have jested. We have turned away when the partisan voices continued to crescendo. We have been invaded by political advertising, texts, fake robotic phone calls, accusations, and truths that have been tweaked into fictions -- or have fictions been tweaked into truths?

But have we prayed?  

Praying not for certain issues or successes or candidates of our own leanings, but pray to God?  To seek Him and ask not just for favor, but His mercy for our country?  For His way, for His flourishing, for how to navigate these treacherous waters, and how to love our neighbors, strangers, and even foes?  We are citizens of this country, but also "fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God." (Ephesians 2. 19)  And that calls us to a different place, responding to God knocking on our screen doors, drawing our passion, compassion and imagination to Him.

I know that I have complained a lot more than I have prayed. 

In eastern cultures, prayer flags are strung at the highest elevations to catch the attention of God.  But as I was running through a park campground, I saw a banner of a different sort fluttering amidst the trees.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Someone had strung them in the trees as a decoration, but as I ran past, I thought about them as prayer flags, not about catching God's attention, but mine, a visual reminder for me not to complain or grumble, but to pray.   Not just praying about the outcome, but the journey forth. Not about who wins and loses, but praying for our leaders, whoever they may be. And how we can be faithful to Him in our everyday lives, even as He is faithful. 

What does Scripture say about times like these?  Not how to vote, but how to live differently in our culture.

Build houses and live in them,

plant gardens and eat their produce...

Seek the welfare of the city

where I have sent you into exile,

and pray to the LORD on its behalf,

for in its welfare 

        you will find your welfare. 

                            Jeremiah 29. 5, 7

Most of us are not running for office, but what are we doing to seek the welfare of this city where we live, to seek goodness for the people God has placed in our lives, to be a faithful presence, even in the midst of chaos and a mess?  As author Steven Garber suggests in his book Visions of Vocation, "I can't do everything, but I can do something."  There are no small kindnesses, no insignificant details of grace.  What are we doing for the flourishing of others today? Are we willing to rebuild, restore, and stand in the breaches, of which we are surrounded? 

And so, I am reminded in these last few days before the election to pray.   And to ponder where God has strategically placed me today, what He has placed before me and on my heart, to love Him and love others, and how to be faithful to Him.

Pray continually.

Live faithfully.

Love well.

Practice grace over and over.

What's In Your Pocket?

My grandmother always carried with her, on her person, hidden away from sight, not concealed weapons, but resources in a way that no one would know, until a moment of need came to the surface. 

I was often the recipient of what she had saved up, kept secret, and made ready.  Small surprises appeared suddenly at the right moment, a homemade cookie seemingly out of thin air on a weary journey or a discouraging day, Chicklets or a crayon or two out of her pocket in the middle of a way-too-long sermon, or from the vast depths of her little sewing closet, a tiny trinket or card game.  Little treasures were waiting, patiently waiting, packed up, ready to go, just below the surface, and always, it seemed, just in time.

When my grandmother passed away, quite suddenly of a heart attack, it was not like she just disappeared, but her passing gave every appearance that she had departed for a long-anticipated party.  “You know where I’m going, and I’m not going to be hurting anymore,” she often reminded me. 

She was a stay-at-home grandmother, living with our family through my first sixteen years.  She was mostly restricted to our house due to her 45-year stint with rheumatoid arthritis.  She would laugh out loud –and reprimand me even now --at the thought of “limitations.”  She knew no boundaries.  Out of a few cans in the pantry, she created feasts for the family or unexpected guests.  Wherever we moved, barren soil laden with weeds and large rocks were simply her palette for a garden, resplendent with color.  She rejoiced over a few scraps of material, a worn out dress or an outgrown pair of slacks, nothing but nothing went to waste.  Nothing was insignificant in her eyes.  No one was insignificant in her heart. No one.

Even me.

No matter what she was doing, how busy her day, she always made time for me.  After all these decades later, that is still a treasure in my heart.  I would creep in and sit on the small chaise lounge in the corner of her bedroom.  Sometimes we talked, mostly I listened, but always we just enjoyed being together in those little pockets of time. She had a joy about her that had nothing at all to do with circumstances, either favorable or difficult, but on hope in God on whom she had staked her life. 

Of all people, she knew full well the definition of difficult.  But her creativity thrived on the impossible.  What can I do with that?  Even intense arthritic pain that kept her from sleeping didn’t sway her.  I often awoke in the middle of the night to the smell of brownies baking in the oven, or to the hum of her sewing machine.  “No sense wasting time just lying there awake,” she would say. Sometimes I thought, even then, the harder things became, only deepened God’s strength in her.

When she passed away, my mom began tearing apart my grandmother’s old woolen coats.  I was not surprised.  I knew what she was doing, but I thought I was the only one who knew. My grandmother had sewn in the hems of her coats, out of sight, a five or ten dollar bill, “for car fare,” she told me, “if I ever need it, just in case I am ever stuck somewhere…or my purse is taken.”

As far as I know, she never needed it for such an occasion, but she was prepared.  And as I suspect now, that money wasn’t about her after all.  She was equipped to help someone else in time of need.  I wouldn’t put that past her.  She saw life differently, she saw others differently, she saw needs of which no one was ever aware, and she was ready to do something about them.

It was not just a few dollar bills stashed away, sewn in hems and pinned in pockets, but her generous and loving heart, quietly changing with the love of God, her little corner of the universe. 

Nothing insignificant at all.

 

…and find grace to help

        in time of need.

 

                Hebrews 4. 16