...just on the other side of pain.

As I sit, sticky beads of sweat roll down my forehead, off past my temples down my cheeks—the tears of endurance.

I am out of shape, and I know it.  Between the detrimental but oh-so-soothing nicotine habit, the sedentary day job, and my overall lack of energy, exercise took the backseat.  And when I say the backseat, I mean it settled somewhere deep down in the trunk beneath empty milkshake cups and boxes of used clothing for Goodwill.   

Running sucks right now.  My feet ache, the damaged cilia in my lungs protest, my calves cramp, even my shoulders throb.  And too often, when it begins to hurt I stop.  I find myself slowing to a jog or walk when the stings of exertion kick in, without even thinking twice.  The will to endure has become passive, a small voice easily dismissed aside roars of pain.  And for some reason, it never seems to get easier.  I long for the shapely legs and energy I had when younger, chasing the ever elusive remembrance of feeling strong.

So running tonight, underneath a shower of noise and lights, fireworks set off by those too eager to wait until the 4th, I once again met the heave of exhaustion, the angry protest from my muscles.  I usually answer their demands, slowing or even stopping completely. 

But tonight, I fought.  I will never become stronger unless I push past the pain.  Growth, learning, insight, is always just on the other side of pain.  And too often we stop or slow to a weak walk, as soon as it gets hard.  It hurts, a lot, so we stop.

But getting stronger seems to most often come through pain.  If we keep stopping on the fringes of hurting, even deep hurting, we never learn anything, never get stronger.  My body comes to recognize a threshold, intuitively easing back and disengaging my sympathetic nervous system—the one that enables power and energy even when exhausted.  I am training myself to give up.

So stubbornly, because that is a strong suite of mine, I maintained pace even when my legs began to falter.  I kept on pushing, one leg ahead of the other.  And I got stronger.  Even in just than final half-mile, I felt my muscles strengthening and my breath gaining fortitude.  I started sweat, more than I had the previous miles, and felt just a hint of a second wind.  Certainly nothing incredibly energizing, but a slight feeling of something else kicking in.  Something that said, I have the ability to keep going.  Don't get me wrong, it still hurt like hell, but the nagging voice saying "quit and give up" found itself silenced beneath laborious breaths and heavy steps.   

So I am looking at my life and thinking, how many times have I pulled back, weakened my pace because it started to really hurt?  And what growing, strengthening, was possible and intended, but left behind and dismissed because it was just beyond pain?  When should I have just pushed through, finding the stubborn will to persist, instead of abandoning the pursuit?

Growing is most often on the other side of pain.  It probably won't get easier for a while still, but if we can quiet the voice that urges us to quit, even by just a bit, we've won.

  

Highways and Hearttrips

I have been on the road home for a while.  The distance from Bozeman to Polson, MT is around 300 miles; which does not sound extraordinarily long.  Yet when I anticipate hugs, soft hugs, and welcome homes, the curves become wider and longer, the hills steeper, and my Blazer engine grows weary. 

God and I have been working through some stuff the last couple years.  I have been learning slowly, how to accept His grace and forgiveness, learning how to back down, how to melt my stubborn heart, and turn my anger, frustration, and distrust into open-heartedly seeking the adventure He prepared for me.

I have been on this road a long time, and I am ready to be home.  The last miles are especially hard.  I reached Missoula, about an hour away from home, but the trip drags on.  My Blazer does not want to drive as quickly as usual.  The interstate once easy to navigate becomes a narrow highway through mountains; the speed limit decreases then increases; the curves narrow and I need to attentively drive.  Although I have driven this before, it does not seem to get shorter.  I don’t know why.  One would think that remembering the landmarks along the way would quicken the journey; that familiarity breeds comfortability, and roads becomes less strenuous.  But it doesn't seem so, and I long for home.

I am getting closer to God lately, too.  Last summer I ended a relationship with someone who was hurting me and dragging me from God.  I am developing a better sense of school and academics; what it means to practice healthy habits and find excellence, and what it means to be overly perfectionist.  I am seeing how excellence is doing best with what God gives me, and investing time into that which gives life.  Putting on hold those I love is not always best, even if it means getting an A.  Not all As mark high achievement.

The miles on my speedometer accumulate, but they go towards good goals.  This last stretch has been particularly hard.  I know home gets closer when the trip starts to get long. 

This last week was really, really hard.  I had a painful and disheartening encounter with an ex who's pastime is bringing me down (which I am learning I cannot fix), school accumulates a test and two large papers next week, only one of which I started.  Then, I got a parking ticket.  The projects and long-time list items I intended to complete over Spring Break didn’t occur, and my parents were weathering a storm together.  More difficult was leading worship for the Kalispell church campus.  Before the service, I had a hard, long fight with someone I love.  And although I was given the blessing of singing with the band, with it came the challenge of adjusting to unfamiliar equipment and team members while holding lingering turmoil.  I was wired up, hearing the talkback and different channels, the click tracks and sound booth directed into my ear, focusing on singing while standing on stage.  The lights shine brightly, my feet are tired, and I am thirsty.  Singing with the team was amazing, to worship God amidst the rainstorms and chaotic traffic in my life, but hard.  My timbre seemed to have lost its spark.

I know I am getting closer to God though, because things are getting hard, getting rough.  The Enemy sees my progress and wants to shut me down.  Right after I finished singing for the service, I accidentally clipped another driver with my Blazer.  It was rainy.  I didn’t even see her coming.  I am getting closer, because things in my life are getting darker and harder, like that final hour before arriving home.  It drags on, because you’re so close and suddenly everything becomes more meaningful, and you want those last miles to finish.  The Enemy sees his opportune moment to strike, using this time of anticipation to bring me down.  He thinks, I need to stop you, because you’re getting close to what I held you back from for so long, what you let me hold you back from. And now you’re pushing past, you’re realizing that my promises are empty. You’re realizing I have sold you more than I can deliver, and I have absolutely nothing to offer. 

Because one thing after another stacked up like dominoes to destroy my courage.  These last hours are real hard, but I know I am getting closer.  I know the Enemy is raining down hard because he intends to stop me from achieving a closer relationship with God.  From knowing God deeper, coming back to the relationship we had when I was fifteen, but this time so much greater and deeper because I experienced some hard, cold, times, and our relationship will be richer for them.

I’m close, but I have time to go.  More could jump out on either side of this road; who knows what the trip might hold.  Lord, give me grace for whatever trials lie ahead, as I push through to knowing You.  I feel myself nearing greater intimacy, greater wisdom in my relationship with You.  Whatever is left to surrender, let me release.  Whatever anger I hold, let me loose.  Getting home is also letting go. 

As I near home I can feel it.  I recognize these fir trees, these road signs.  God, bring me home safely.  I will drive on, as I discover what You long to give me, how You long to know me.  You never promise future highways won't arise, but You promise to accompany me always.  

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love He predestined us for adoption through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will— to the praise of his glorious grace,which he has freely given us in the One he loves." ~Ephesians 1:3-6

Letter to the Editor: Applauding Wilderness Designation

A while ago I submitted this letter to the editor. Thought it merited face-time here, too.


December 28th, 2015

Last Friday, I packed snow gear, ice climbing clothes, and skis into my Toyota, and left for Christmas break at home—the Flathead Valley. Regardless of college commitments, time constraints, or weather, time in the wilderness is never idly spent. The practice binds Montanans together, in an understanding gained only through experience.

That very week, the Rocky Mountain Front Heritage Act and the North Fork Watershed Protection Act were passed. Our thankfulness goes to Representative Steve Daines, Senator John Tester and Senator Steve Walsh for their devotion, teamwork, and effort to pass these bills. A day in which Montana’s mountains and lands are preserved and protected, is a day worth remembering. The acts protect two of Montana’s most beautiful and unique landscapes. The Heritage Act protects the Rocky Mountain Front, a recreational and habitat treasure encompassing the Bob Marshall Wilderness—my childhood backyard. The Protection Act preserves the North Fork Watershed area from future mining or drilling; a noteworthy protection for this elegant landscape sitting on the feet of Glacier National Park, vital to Flathead water purity.

This type of progress does not come without effort and commitment, on local and governmental levels alike. As we enjoy this snowy season, let’s remark on the great achievements sustaining Montana’s quintessence.