I’m actually writing this on time. And I even got to pop in and chat for just a second. Wild.
Onward, before the benadryl kicks in. So much sinus pressure. Stupid allergies.
Kate says: practice.
I drop to my knees, grateful for the thick yoga mat beneath me. Sweat drips from my brow, dotting my forearms. Again I wonder why I am awake earlier than I want to be. Why I am putting my body through the torture of physical activity. A disgustingly chipper voice encourages me to get back into plank position. With a heavy breath, I plant my hands on the mat and press my toes onto the slides.
Pull legs into a crouching position. Push out into a straight line. Use abdominal muscles to make the movement. Press down on the slides, legs out into a v-shape. Back into a line. In again.
Arms shake. Core tight. Legs ache. Lips tremble.
They say that fitness is a journey, not a destination. It’s all about the practice. About being better than you were yesterday. One more rep, a little heavier weight.
So, too, I think with our faith.
The Kingdom is then, in eternity, a place for us to look forward to with hope. But it’s also now. Right here. Inside you and me. We are called to a different way of living. Different ethics, different perspective. We get to participate in the beautiful, difficult work of sanctification. We get to show the world what it is to live for and with Jesus.
We don’t always get it right. Sometimes we fall to the mat and wonder why we even try.
In those moments, in the sweat, in the pain, in the weariness, the Spirit says: Get back up.
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