O, My Soul, Keep Up ...

About mid-way through this summer,  I went home to Hoover for two nights.  On Saturday of that weekend, I went to workout with my brother at a local church gym.  My brother, Mike, is a big guy.  Big shoulders. Big body. Tall. Ex-football player. (Husky, ain't ya?)  Working out with him is no joke.  He was on the Hoover High School football team (then Westpoint's, then UAB's). We're talking two-a-days.  He was a middle-linebacker and his claim to fame in high school was sacking Tim Tebow (you really shouldn't need a link) when Hoover played Nease on ESPN.  Believe it.

Lately, he's fallen out of working out as much as he used to (lucky me), so he's been trying to get back at it. Our day in the gym fell in the "I've only been doing this for three weeks" category.  I really can't imagine how bad he'd shame me now.

We started by running on the treadmill (this is what I'm used to).  I told him I was going to do two miles and then I'd play around with him on weights.  But as soon as I'd completed 1 mile, he was hovering at the back of my treadmill telling me to come on. (I do not like hover-ers.)  So I said okay and we headed to the free weights.  He took out his phone and started talking about some Nike bootcamp workout videos (bascuse me? what?) and then proceeded to tell me to follow him in lunges around the room.  Before I knew it, we were moving from drill to drill with little resting time in between.  One second we were lifting ... the next we were doing push-ups... the next we were flinging weights above our heads... the next we were jogging around the room ... up, down, sideways ... whoa.

About 40 mins into the whole bit, I started feeling light-headed.  It was right after we switched from a floor drill to a standing one.  (I was not trying to whip my hair back and forth, but it felt about the same.)  I told him I was going to lie down before I passed out (and I've never passed out... once I came close when Julie and I were riding bikes, but that's a different story. Had to lay down in a gutter then.)  So I laid still for a few minutes and then decided I should go get some water.  After several other minutes had passed, I told him I was ready to keep going (not a quitter).

As I got back into it, he noticed that I wasn't really breathing in and out like you're supposed to, so every time he didn't hear any air (insert airhead jokes), he would yell, "Breathe." 

When I was driving back to work the next day (breaks/real resting are short-lived in the summer), I started thinking about my experience with Mike and how it parallels life with God.  When I wasn't breathing, I wasn't sure I could keep going.  I got light-headed and was forced to stop.  I started questioning whether I could really do it .. whether I could really keep up (with such a beast) ... whether I could cut it.  And I think life in ministry (or life with God) is no different.  We want so badly to depend on ourselves .. to keep pushing .. to go until we pass out ... to reach the limit and THEN slow down.  But the truth is, we can't really keep going unless we breathe. I learned awhile back that the Hebrew word Ruach (get ready, there are sound effects) means breath, soul, spirit of God. And to complete this marathon .. to run this race .. to live life with God ... we must keep breathing in the presence of the Holy Spirit, allowing Christ to fill us up.  When I feel overwhelmed, stressed or tired .. unsure if I can really keep doing what I'm doing ... I'm reminded that the Spirit of God is life-giving and to breath it into my day is of utmost importance. I'm not sure there's any other way to survive.

And so, with some breathing and some real rest ... We will make it. You will make it.  The power of the Holy Spirit has yet to fail us...