endurance

Sled Dogs: how to regain endurance in harsh conditions

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“…Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.”

–Hebrews 12:1


This has been a stressful, emotionally exhausting couple of months. The needs, the appointments, the tests, the new problems cropping up, the hum of uncertainty in the back of my brain, the internal pressure to do something! – but the external reality that there’s not a lot I can do to speed anything up or solve it.

I have pushed to the absolute end of my capacity, waiting for answers, resolution, and a plan to manage what’s wrong and move forward with life.  I crossed into a doctor’s office and gripped his hand with relief because finally, the waiting was over, but he didn’t have the answers. The threshold of his door wasn’t a finish line, it was just the first step of the next lap of the race.

If ever there was a time to strip off extra weight, it’s now.

Are you there, too? Are your steps growing heavy? Are you trying to rally, but you have even further to go than you thought?

I appreciated, as I read this verse in Hebrews, that it dealt with weight and sin as two distinct concepts. It mentioned “every weight” and then talked about sin in particular. But sin’s not the only thing that weighs us down. Our lives get hit with heavy things that aren’t our fault. Doing a word study on “weight” got me laughing because one of the definitions was “a mass.” I’m still coming to terms with the news that I have a mass in my neck; it’s been a heavy knowledge. Yet…somehow, I can choose to strip off enough weight to run with a light heart. But how? Anyone else out there struggling with how in the world you strip off the weight of something you can’t resolve?

“We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, He endured the cross, disregarding its shame…”

–Hebrews 12:2

I loved this verse…until this month. You do it by keeping your eyes on Jesus. But how? HOW do I keep my eyes on Jesus with all this going on? I am not someone who ignores even minor distractions easily, so telling me to tear my eyes away from this felt like an impossible ask. I am not great at laying aside every weight.

When we lived up in Washington State, Cody got me a husky mix puppy for Christmas. True to her breed, she loved nothing more than to run hard and be in the snow, so we put together a make-shift sled and started training her to pull us. When we taught her sled dog commands, I thought we would just need four directions. If I could get her to go, stop, turn left and turn right, that would be enough, right? Wrong.

She’s not a car. She’s a dog. Dogs are not only taking in your directions, they’re taking in their surroundings, and, especially as puppies, they see a lot of things that are more interesting to them than the straight track ahead.

So, there is a special command for when you see they’ve become distracted and you realize they are about to go off track. “On by.” It means, “Leave that alone. Keep going.”

We’re also not cars. We’re people. We’re not just blindly responding to directions. We are also taking in our surroundings. There’s the load on the sled that we were designed to carry, and then there’s the extra workload of plowing through heavy snow off-trail because we’re angling toward a distraction. So Hebrews 12:1 tells us, “On by – Leave that alone. Keep going.”

How does keeping our eyes on Jesus help us do that? He’s the one ahead of us on the trail. We’re running in his tracks. And He finished. So, we can finish. He hit the cross, and he kept on going for the sake of the joy set before Him. He’s the one that proves we can make it past the difficulty, and that what’s waiting for us on the other side is worth it.

You can’t control the wildlife, and the trail we’re on is not tame. So, what’s the best way to not get killed by a moose or a bear you’ve noticed out in the brush? Keep your eyes on the trail and run hard. Don’t turn toward the distraction. Leave it alone and keep going. On by.

“When the Spirit of truth comes, He will guide you into all truth…He will bring me glory by telling you whatever He receives from me.”

–John 16:13-14

Jesus marked out the trail, then He sent his Spirit to run it with us. He is with us every step of the race, coaching us, directing us, and warning us. We stay light-hearted and on track by keeping our eyes on the Champion who finished the race out in front of us and our ears tuned in to the Musher who urges us on from behind.

So what about the things that ARE our fault?

People are all so different and all sorts of different things trip us up. For me, as I considered this verse, I asked: Lord…I’m having a really hard time enduring. I can’t control the external difficulties, and they do affect me. But will you show me where there is something on my part that is tripping me up?

And man, did it hit me like a stack of bricks.

You worry.

Oh. That’s just me trying to prepare.

I’ve already prepared you.

I get why the verse says it so easily trips me up. Worry is the thing I most easily justify. It’s the thing in me that runs absolutely rampant if I give it even the slightest foothold.

If the musher tells the dog to keep going, and the dog tries to run straight, but keeps eye-balling something off to the side, she can get tangled up in the lines. So. Easily. Even obedient steps can lose a lot of their strength to a heart that’s in knots.

If you’re waiting for me to resolve this one for you, I can’t yet. It’s the thing that so easily trips me up. And every time I’ve gained some momentum in the area of saying “no” to worry, the Lord has entrusted me with a harder thing to practice with. So far, I’ve never succeeded at that harder thing on the first try.

I’ll just encourage you with the reminder that He’s patient. And everyone has a thing that so easily trips them up. So, it can be valuable to ask Him what that is for you, keep an eye out for it, and get into the practice of inviting Him to come untangle the lines for you as often as you need Him to, so you can regain your endurance for the run ahead.

“Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1)

Here’s my last thought for you, especially if, like me, you feel weary and frustrated with how the run has gone so far: I didn’t choose the course.

Believe me, if I had, this is not what it would look like. The course I prepared for didn’t have sharp turns or slippery ice, and I could maneuver it without tipping the sled or getting tangled in the lines. The course I prepared for made me look impressive. But that is not the course God set for me.

He set this one. And it is not easy and I am not navigating it smoothly. I don’t look as good as I want to. It is revealing a lot of my weaknesses. In fact, I think for some of this, I have been the pitiful, injured dog that’s riding in the sled while her foot gets a break. There’s just not a whole lot of glory in that. There are easier races. Races where I could have been a front-runner. This one is above my skill level and it does not play to my strengths. But it’s the one He chose for me, and I trust His choice.

So can you.

When we make it to the finish, it will be His skill that got us there. It will be His victory. His trophy. His glory.

But you know what I saw in every single picture of the Iditarod champions, year after year? It wasn’t a lone racer, standing tall, and proudly holding up his trophy. It was a grinning Musher, seated on the podium, hugging his dogs close.

So, when the conditions are harsh and your endurance is flagging, remember who’s running this race with you. He loves you. He’s with you each step of the way. His voice is directing your steps, urging you to keep going, reminding you to keep your eyes on the trail and not to take on extra weight. He’s there to untangle you when you get knotted up. He knows you, He chose this course and He has the skill to navigate you through it. This will not be easy, but it will be worth it. And when you finally pull across that finish line, He’s the kind of champion who pulls you up on the podium with Him to hold you close and share the glory.

“And when Christ, who is your life, is revealed to the whole world, you will share in all His glory.”

–Colossians 3:4

“I am writing to all who have been called by God the Father, who loves you and keeps you safe in the care of Jesus Christ…Now all glory to God, who is able to keep you from falling away and will bring you with great joy into His glorious presence without a single fault.”

–Jude 1, 24

The Finisher: who is our hope when the race stretches long?

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“…looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith…”
–Hebrews 12:2

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Who is the finisher? Is it me?

No.

As I run this race and seek to endure, am I called to look inward to find what I need to finish? 

No.

Should I worry that I will somehow miss the calling and steps He has marked for me?

No.

The work before me has been prepared from long ago (Eph 2:10), and even when it is brutal and difficult, the One on whom this depends does not yield until it is finished.

He will finish what He has started concerning me.

The race stretches out before me, and it holds difficulty, darkness, precarious footing, an unrelenting incline, obstacles, and constant distractions.

But the Finisher lights a lamp for me in my darkness, enables me to stand on mountain heights, strengthens me to endure, helps me to scale every wall, makes my way perfect, and spreads the path wide before my feet.

He shows me how to run for the joy set before me, clinging to the certain hope that we will not fall short of the finish.

Psalm 18

27 You rescue the humble,
    but you humiliate the proud.
28 You light a lamp for me.
    The Lord, my God, lights up my darkness.
29 In your strength I can crush an army;
    with my God I can scale any wall.

30 God’s way is perfect.
    All the Lord’s promises prove true.
    He is a shield for all who look to him for protection.
31 For who is God except the Lord?
    Who but our God is a solid rock?
32 God arms me with strength,
    and he makes my way perfect.
33 He makes me as surefooted as a deer,
    enabling me to stand on mountain heights.
34 He trains my hands for battle;
    he strengthens my arm to draw a bronze bow.
35 You have given me your shield of victory.
    Your right hand supports me;
    your help has made me great.
36 You have made a wide path for my feet
    to keep them from slipping.

Cries From The Clay: I do not start at the truth, I am led to it.

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“And yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand.”
 
–Isaiah 64:8

I do not, this morning, have a gentle, submissive attitude that praises you for your wonderful works. Today, I’m upset. These are cries from the clay in the messy and pressure-filled work of molding.

I’m frustrated by this verse because as you formed my body, you allowed this genetic flaw that would make every pregnancy miserable. I’m nauseous. I’m hot. I’m tired of throwing up. I’m tired of how little control I have over whether our travel plans will actually work out or constantly need to be re-worked. I’m tired of the countdowns.

Countdown to second trimester? Done! So what? Other people get to bid the nausea good riddance and enjoy the extra energy. I throw up and spend my days in bed just the same. Countdown to going home? Meaningless. Travel is so tenuous now, it could all fall apart at the last minute. Countdown to the baby? It will mean no sleep and a torn up body.

Every countdown just feels like counting down to more problems that I do not have the capacity to take on.

We do not get to just enjoy your gifts. They are fraught with difficulty and brokenness at every turn. Relief is coming, but it is so far away. And I am living and trying to stay encouraged here and now. I am struggling to find tangible joy and hope for my tired hands to take hold of.

I’m crying out to you, my Maker. You, who have carried me through these waters before. You, who have set me on solid ground and given my heart new cause to rejoice. Forgive my angry outcries and restore my soul. I am breaking here and I do not understand your ways.

Outward, always outward I am reaching and searching for a source of delight and satisfaction and strength, but you use these moments of unrelenting hardship – not just to teach me to endure – but to teach me how you endure.

You, my light and hope and source of lasting contentment, you endure untarnished by the harsh realities I am walking through. May my heart be humble and wise enough to take you at your word that your grace alone is sufficient for me, especially in the frustrating moments when I do not feel it.

You gave your life for my freedom. It’s the message for all time, given at just the right time (1 Timothy 2:6). Freedom from condemnation, fear and worry. Freedom from the need for control. Freedom to surrender.

Oh Lord,

Help my heart to surrender to your care and rest, even in my disappointment, even in all that is uncertain. Lead my heart to contentment in you, Oh Lord, my rock and my redeemer. I do not start there, and when it gets rough like this, I cannot find the way myself.

But I can come to you and pour out my soul. I can admit that the truth doesn’t feel true and confess my need for help with my own heart, and you will faithfully step in to lead me. When I am blindly groping for a foothold, you are a faithful guide who makes my shaking feet sure, and you gently help me to believe again that you are a trustworthy potter. That what you are crafting is worth every second of the wait. And that in every moment of my difficulty, you hold me carefully in your hands.

—

“May the Lord lead your hearts into a full understanding and expression of the love of God and the patient endurance that comes from Christ.”

–2 Thessalonians 3:5

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Matchless – by Beka Burns

“So I’ll hold on for dear life, you are worth all it costs.”

Press On: on patience with the pace

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“I don’t mean to say that I have already achieved these things or that I have already reached perfection. But I press on to possess that perfection for which Christ Jesus first possessed me.”

–Philippians 3:12

During our orientation, we have been speaking much of how important flexibility is on the mission field. It’s been killing me a little bit because if I’m honest with myself, I am not a flexible being. I am high strung. I’m a planner. I like to know what I can expect. I do not know how to roll with the punches. And so I feel like I will fail. I feel afraid of moving overseas because I look at how I’m coping here and now, and I know it will fall far short of what is required over there. I start to stress over whether I’m a horrible fit for this ministry and maybe they should find someone else.

 Much of this transition has been a series of facing up to how I fall short. Attitudes, struggles, and bents that are not Christ-like, discouragement over how slow and invisible the growth and progress seem to be, anxiety as I notice how others seem to be taking in stride what constitutes a major upheaval in my life. Man, is it messy when I look in the mirror.

But I have been sitting with these words from Philippians and considering the choice of the phrase “press on.”

The word press holds the idea of moving forward against resistance.

“All the while, you will grow as you learn to know God better and better. We also pray that you will be strengthened with all His glorious power so that you will have all the endurance and patience you need…”

–Colossians 1:10-11

This walk with the Lord, this learning to know Him better and better and growing to be like him; it’s an uphill battle, it takes endurance, it is pressing against resistance.

And patience allows for a slower pace because it acknowledges the resistance I am facing.

And so I need the strength that Christ offers to be patient with myself, to continue taking up hope and pressing on when I’m starting to feel like a hopeless case.

In her book, Beholding and Becoming, Ruth Chou Simons says this:

“God is more interested in how we keep running than how fast and flawlessly we get to our destination. He calls perseverance the outcome of a faith in progress and tells us how to keep on keeping on with diligence and hope, even when we don’t see or feel progress in the now…Beholding how Christ endured the cross helps us set our gaze on His provision and not our performance along the course…”

How I need the reminder that God asks me to keep going, even if it’s not going smoothly. I can set my eyes on his provision and he is pleased if I just take the next step, however clumsy, trusting in that. He is not wishing I would get it together faster.

When I decided to follow after Christ, I signed up for a mud run. Obstacle after obstacle, stumbling upon stumbling, but pressing forward, even if that progress sometimes happens at a crawl.

And so, may I learn to take up his strength to be patient with myself and with my journey, because this does not look like I expected it to. I am in pain over how slow and invisible the progress is. But I can surrender my pace and my progress to him. I can decide that he knows what he’s doing and be patient with where I am, internally and externally, because I know he is taking me somewhere good, and I have confidence he can get me there.

I can be light-hearted, even as I see areas that desperately need growth, even as I struggle on repeat, even when it seems like I will never figure out how to handle things better, because I know what he is capable of. He will not abandon a slow pupil, because he is a skilled teacher.

Patience is a resolve not to worry about the timing, that flows from confidence in what the outcome will be. So I will take my inflexible tendencies, my weaknesses and issues and struggles, and lay them at his feet. I will be patient, and I will take up great hope.

If I rest my gaze on what he is able to do in me, I will find that seeing my issues loud and clear does not have to prompt worry in my heart.

Great hope says this: I do not know how to do this yet, but Christ is my teacher, so I can learn. I do not feel prepared for what’s ahead, but he is prepared to carry me through it. I am not able, but he is always able. He does not ask me to be fast; he asks me to be faithful. And when I stumble, he does not yell: That’s it! You’re through!

He comes alongside my brokenness and whispers: “I’m here. Keep going.”