Strength and Mud

In elementary school, when I still lived in Indonesia, we would have track and field day once a year. We barely trained for it, and I would sign up for races with distances that I had no concept of: 200, 300, 400 meters. In fifth grade I signed up for the 600 meter race. I hadn't been trained or challenged in running. It didn't enter my mind that there was a race they could offer that I couldn't handle. The 600 meter race did not seem unreasonable--until I started it. There were four or five of us all lined up to begin our loop-and-a-half race. The adrenaline was pumping. My competitive spirit was telling me I had to win. The whistle blew and we were off. The pace was faster than I had anticipated- the girl in front of me had rabbitted out of excitement. It didn't take long for the initial excitement to wear off and the fatigue to set in. I began to realize the full distance I was required to go. I began to realize I needed to slow down if I planned on making it across that finish line with any sort of dignity. I began to realize I had little chance of winning. The fun was gone. I remember finishing with disappointment.

Do you ever have those seasons in life when you are faced with challenges? Maybe your first instinct is excitement...maybe you've trained for this. For me, the "spiritual adrenaline" sets in. I begin to list off what God has brought me through in the past. I quote Romans 5:3-5 and determine to suffer in a godly manner. I don't break easy-I adapt well. When I was sixteen this nice couple tried to teach me how to wakeboard. I spent most of that sunny day getting dragged through the water. I never made it up. But I would hold on forever, until the last minute, taking the punishment in the hopes that a miracle would happen. In my deepest spiritual battles I tend to duck my head, hunch my shoulders, and hunker down. I tell myself that this is a season. I tell myself that the sun will come back and I can get back to living my life.

But then there's that moment when I'm almost two years in...two years in and eleven months deep, and I realize that I've changed. Someone stole my shoes, so I decided to walk home barefoot...but now I've been walking for five days and my feet are calloused and hard. It scares me a little bit. Because right now I can't see myself objectively. I know that this long storm has deeply affected the person that I am, but I can't quite tell if it's for the better or for the worse. And what if it's a little bit of both? I thought this would be an experience I would go through, not an experience that would go through me. What if I spent so much time in this dark season looking ahead to hope, and looking behind for comfort, that I became neglectful of the choices I was making day by day?

I am afraid. I feel like Jeremiah when he gets lowered into the cistern and sinks into the mud. I said I would follow you anywhere, God...but I feel pretty miserable in this mud. My idea of calling and sacrifice were different than Yours. I never would have called myself into this mud.

Psalm 84:5-7

Blessed is the man whose strength is in You,
Whose heart is set on pilgrimage.
As they pass through the Valley of Baca (weeping),
They make it a spring;
The rain also covers it with pools.
They go from strength to strength;
Each one appears before God in Zion.

And God reminds me: "You have set your heart on pilgrimage, Beth. You are passing through this world. I am your strength. I will turn all of your weeping into springs, which bring life." 

If God truly caught all of the tears I cried this year I think He could water the Sahara Desert with them. And maybe He has. But I seem to be living on a different continent.