This weekend I finished another one of my “I wonder if I could _______” workouts. It doesn’t have a name. It took a full three-day weekend to recover from it though. That’s kind of how they go.
I like to set high goals just to see if I can achieve them. Recent examples are:
Workout #1: 3-mile run, 3 times in one day, with temperatures over 100°F, each run faster than previous
Workout #2: 500 ab wheel extensions from kneeling position
Workout #3 (this past weekend): 5-mile run, 200 chin-ups, 400 push-ups, and 600 squats in any sequence
They are weird, random ideas born out of workouts intended to push my limits. They require weeks or even months to prepare. The fatigue during the workouts and the sore muscles that follow are intense, both during training and on the big day.
It may be surprising, but staying in shape is not my primary motivation.
These workouts help me to find peace. The mechanical repetition sweeps away inner turmoil. My mind relaxes and my thoughts run free. God frequently uses that time to speak to me. During this special prayer time, typical distractions lack the power to break through.
When the stresses of life wear me down, I am drawn to my workouts. As my effort increases, my mind clears and the strange “I wonder if I could _______” ideas formulate. The goals keep me engaged as God slowly unties the knots in my soul.
The workout that I just completed took a lot of focus and a lot of time. God knew that when he gave me the idea. He knew there was a lot of untying to be done.
Maybe workouts aren’t your thing. What does give you peace and allow you to spend time alone with him? Do you knit scarves, go fishing, read books, do yardwork, or bake desserts?
Creating the right environment for a conversation is important. God gives each of us a passion as part of our design, something that encourages us to relax and open up. It helps set our mood to talk with him so that we enjoy our time together, the way a father and his child should.
Too often, I approach prayer as if it is serious work that is best performed in a comfortable chair with eyes closed and hands folded while I ask God to work miracles and give me answers. Sometimes that is best. But not always.
When I need to hear his voice, my first reaction is to grab my running shoes. It’s like going to visit him.
In Luke 5:16, we learn that Jesus frequently withdrew to lonely places and prayed. I used to assume that he would find a spot where he wouldn’t be interrupted and prayed for a long time on his hands and knees. When I read closer, a “lonely spot” sounds more like he went for a walk on a quiet path, admiring the star-filled sky while his thoughts became clear.
Perhaps Jesus’ soul was refreshed while he strolled with his Father and enjoyed the beauty of creation. After all, God did that very thing with Adam in Genesis 3:8. That seems like a great way to talk and regain focus.
The first step to obedience is to align your heart with his. That means shaking off the worries of the world and looking at life the way he does. Relaxing with him while you do something you love is a perfect way to discover his heart.
Sometimes I focus so much on doing the right thing that I forget to dedicate the time to stay connected. It doesn’t take long until my stress builds and my heart strays. Then God invites me to join him.
That means doing push-ups until I can’t count them anymore.
My workout this past weekend required completing 30 sets of various exercises. To keep track of my sets, I used a deck of cards. I counted out 30 cards and flipped one over as I completed each set. It’s a special deck of cards that Kim made for me. Each card has a reason she loves me written on the back. With each set, I read the message and was strengthened. I am loved. God helped me to receive that.
It was one of my favorite workouts.
God, please continue to invite me to share time with you. Call me to the passions you created in me that foster intimacy for our time together. Let our conversation be like a father and his son that leaves me refreshed and makes my heart yearn for the same things as you do.
The morning’s first light crept into the room, but couldn’t penetrate the darkness that engulfed John.
He realized that he hadn’t slept in days. He hadn’t eaten either. He didn’t care.
Could the Passover dinner really have been just a few nights ago? It seemed like a lifetime. Everyone had been celebrating; the euphoria of their entry into the city was still fresh on their minds. They had eaten together, sang songs and Jesus blessed them. It was incredible.
What came next seemed impossible. Jesus had been executed. Judas hanged himself. Nobody knew where Thomas was or if he was alive. The other terrified disciples didn’t know who they could trust and were silently planning desperate escapes from the city.
“How did it come to this?” he thought to himself.
John reflected back to the time just after the Passover dinner when they were praying in the Garden. He recalled the dancing torch lights coming toward them and his shock at realizing they illuminated a mob armed with swords and clubs. The torches showed that all exits were blocked and the mob canvassed the area, demanding to know which person was Jesus.
What happened next was a blur. The soldiers arrested Jesus. He was only guilty of healing people and teaching them about the kingdom of heaven. For that crime, he was arrested and held for trial. Any chance of justice disappeared as a vast conspiracy unfolded that enveloped one of their inner circle, the Jewish high council, the governor, and even King Herod.
Almost immediately, Jesus was convicted, sentenced and beaten in front of the same people who had just celebrated his entry into the city. The disciples scattered into hiding, afraid for their lives. Hours later, he was dead. Gone. John’s mind ached with the searing memory of Jesus looking directly at him with a bruised face and his broken, bloody body, hanging above a city street as a warning to others.
John couldn’t remember anything after that point. He had gone into shock. When the sun rose the next morning, he was inside this room with several of his friends. He still didn’t know how he got here.
In the early dawn, the magnitude of his situation fell on him. The conspirators would immediately move to erase any chance of a rebellion. He and the other disciples were a loose end. It would be a miracle if they survived the week.
Jesus’ dying request to him was to care for his mom. John sighed and thought “I can’t even take care of myself.”
Saturday day and night had passed in silent despair. Marked for death, he couldn’t stay in Jerusalem. If he could escape the city, where could he go without being identified? Thousands had seen him with Jesus. He would have to leave the country if he wanted anonymity. With no money or friendly harbor awaiting him, any attempt seemed futile.
Over three days, it was as if the light of hope had disappeared from the earth. John’s heart had turned cold, buried in a grave inside his chest.
He spoke to himself. “Is this all there is?”
Suddenly, Mary burst through the door and screamed “He’s gone! He’s gone! His grave is empty!”
John was running past her before she could get out of the doorway. As his feet flew through the empty streets, his mind raced even faster.
If the grave was empty, something wasn’t going as planned. He had heard about the soldiers stationed at the grave to ensure that Jesus’ corpse wasn’t moved. If he was gone, something was happening. He had to know what it was.
He had seen something flash in Mary’s eyes. Confusion, but behind it, a glimmer. What was it?
John rounded the last corner and stopped in his tracks. The soldiers were all gone. The grave was wide open, the giant stone that had sealed it was pushed aside. He could see inside. It was empty.
He stooped to the ground and touched the linen wraps that had fallen off of Jesus. A whirlwind of unanswered questions swirled in his mind.
Where could Jesus’ body have gone? Who did it? How did they get past all the armed soldiers?
He inhaled deeply. Air that should smell like death burst with a sweet aroma. Although it was barely daylight, everything glowed like the sun itself. His muscles should have been tired but felt stronger than ever before. He could feel warmth flowing through his entire body. It was radiating from the tomb, inviting him in.
Voices whispered in his ear that it was time to leave, that he should run away before being recognized. They told him that it was no longer safe here.
He realized that he could no longer stand still, waiting for answers. He made his decision and stepped forward into the empty tomb.
His fears melted away in an instant. His dead heart began beating again. Tears streamed down his face as he realized the truth.
He wanted to tell everyone what he knew.
HOPE IS ALIVE!
This Easter season, if you are looking for answers or feel something pulling on your heart, I hope you will make the same decision as John. Step forward. Seek truth. Find life. If you don’t already have plans to attend a church service, I invite you to join me. Leave a comment below (please include your name) or text me at (214) 206-6490. You are always welcome at any of the services with my church family. For details, go to https://valleycreek.org/easter/ If you from an area other than Dallas, ask anyone you know who attends church if you can join them. It will be the highlight of their week. May love be your guide. Happy Easter.
The statistics tell the story of the age we live in.
The median length of time a person:
Owns a home – 9 years.
Attends a church – 7 years.
Works for a company – 4 years.
I am a 12-year guy, whether I am walking down my street, worshipping at church, or sitting in a meeting at work. It doesn’t seem like so much time has passed until I look at all the new faces around me.
These statistics aren’t too surprising. We live in an age that is perfecting instant gratification. With little more than a thought, you can change your circumstances.
If your home, church, or employer no longer meets your needs, then you can accept any of dozens of digital invitations. Once you have made your selection, just hit your reset button.
More and more of my friends are deciding that a new start would be refreshing. They are leaving their pasts behind. The boredom of routine or an ongoing frustration that is magnified by a personal hurt can be enough to spur them into action. They want a better life, and the button promises it. New beginnings, new people.
But is it an improvement or a nuclear option?
A good friend of mine at work recently determined that he wasn’t part of the “inner circle” and quit to pursue a new job with a new company. He chose to walk away from the many friendships he had built. In the end, they weren’t enough to prevent him from pursuing something new. He hit his reset button.
A family just left our church to join another one in the same town. We met a decade ago and helped raise each other’s kids. Churches aren’t a perfect haven from conflict though. Eventually, I guess they had enough. They have pressed their reset button and are starting over too.
I had hoped to share my future days with the now-former-coworker and recently-departed-church-family. I imagined we would always be together, pursuing new adventures while we offered each other a sympathetic heart and ear. Their absence leaves a void not just in me but in all the lives they routinely touched. They are still inside my phone, but mostly outside of my life. I miss them.
I accept responsibility for the times that I was the source of their frustration. I also accept responsibility for the times that I didn’t do enough when they were struggling. I’m not giving up on either of them yet though. I will try to find a way to let them know how much they are loved and missed. Maybe there is a way to undo a part of the reset.
As my 12-year streak extends, I am placing more value on the people who have been in my life for a long time. We may have seen the worst of each other’s brokenness, but we have also seen the special spark Jesus designed into each other. My new friendships don’t offer that.
In Sunday School, we used to sing “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, and the other gold.” If you are already one of my friends, then you are as valuable as gold to me, and one of the most special things in my life.
I will try to become better at telling you how important you are to me and even work on showing you more often. I can’t always prevent the hurt, but maybe I can be the encouragement that arrives when you need it most. I pray that the voice of hope will be stronger than the allure of the reset button.
If the button is calling out to you today, please tell me. Or just stop by. Let’s work on building a bright future together.
That means doing push-ups until I can’t count them anymore.