"Jogging, or maybe it's Yogging, with a soft 'j' sound..."

I hate running. I hate working out… Wait, let me explain. I like to enjoy myself; I like to have a good time. I like good food, comfortable clothes, driving the moto around, just sitting and talking with people, all of that. Most of the time, these things aren’t too taxing for me. There are times, however, when the meat is just a little chewy and I’ve got to really work at it for a while to get even half of a steak down; or when I’ve got to break-in a new pair of pants; or other motorists don’t see a big white guy on a little red moto; or—and sometimes this is the worst— I’m in a conversation that makes me want to either strangle the other person or sear my own eardrums.

We’ve all been there (I think… not because I wish any of these situations on anyone, just looking for a point of contact). My point is mostly that even when the meat is chewy, there might be one juicy, tender section that makes the steak. Also you don’t just buy a favorite pair of jeans, and even in those unbearable conversations, there might just be a gold nugget in the midst of all the sludge.

I hate running because it’s hard for me. I hate running cause it hurts my legs and lungs and even my ears (that pounding, like you’re ears have to burst to get more oxygen to your brain quickly because your mouth and nose just aren’t cutting it). I’ve been running (actually jogging) for about a month and a half now, three times a week. The first two days, I thought I was going to keel over in the first five minutes. I’ve never, ever, jogged to exercise.

And now, six weeks later, I am still jogging. I can’t say I like it, or even that I don’t mind it, or even that I don’t hate it. I know I feel like I hate it less. I know I don’t feel like I’m going to die anymore; just slip into a little coma. It still hurts my lungs, legs and ears, but I can run farther and for a longer amount of time. I don’t think I’ve lost any weight, and my body has yet to form itself into the stream-lined, aerodynamic shape it should have taken the second day. But I do feel different, better. I feel like I walk differently. Not like someone who really runs, but someone who jogs three times a week, who’s still a little soggy around the mid-section and chin. But I have now become someone who is trying, who’s improving, who’s getting better.

Obviously, I can relate this to the athlete metaphor that Paul uses all over the New Testament, especially about beating your body into submission (1 Cor. 9:24-27). I think about that a lot when I run and it really starts to hurt. I think I started running because I wanted to be able to play sports with the youth in our church, mostly soccer and basketball (and, of course, to look fabulous). Paul talks about working out, running, with a purpose, to win the prize. The prize I’m going for is definitely not being a soccer stud (mostly because these guys have been playing soccer since before they could walk). For me, the prize is fellowship.

I think running/jogging has been one of the best practical instructions of my life. I’m no athlete. I fear running. I don’t like the feeling of running, the physical feeling. It also makes me feel insecure, like everyone is laughing at my pained expression, or pitying me (“He’s trying so hard, bless his heart”). But, the promise (which might just be in my head) is that if I can run for “x” number of minutes/miles, I’ll be able to run around with the soccer and basketball players, and maybe, just maybe, actually get to play.

I can’t just play, and I can’t just run. And maybe, just maybe, I can’t just follow Christ to the cross. I think I would be a fool to believe— as Peter, James and John before me— that I can drink the same cup (Mk 10) or that I won’t fall away (Mk. 14) I’m not talking about losing my salvation hear, just about not being faithful to what I’ve committed to do. One of my all-time favorite Caedmon’s Call songs is call “Potiphar’s Door”. The first verse goes:

“When I was a little boy, I couldn't know the cost of going to war
When I counted them and walked that aisle,
You know that I couldn't count that high
But now I can count that high
And I’m counting one, two, three four
Don’t want to fight this good fight no more…”

I think, like Peter especially, I “talk a big game”, or, since I’m not really an athlete, I “write checks that my butt can’t cash.” I think that I count the cost, but when I get into the middle of whatever I committed to, I realize that it’s not as easy as I thought. Actually, “easy” doesn’t even come to mind. I think, “Holy crap! What have I gotten myself into? Help!” And it’s times like this, in the middle of the run or three and a half months into my time here that I think, “I should just stop. My body still looks the same. I still can’t play soccer or basketball. I still am not fluent in Spanish and I haven’t ‘saved’ one hundred, fifty-seven and a half people yet. I’m a horrible runner. I’m a horrible missionary.”

I guess I’m realizing two things. Obviously the first is to count the cost. I know I didn’t when I committed to coming to Spain. I don’t know if I really even could have. I didn’t know what to think, but it’s definitely harder than I thought it would be. And it’s not hard-hard, it’s just harder than I thought. I’m not trying to run a marathon or eradicate AIDS or solve the Middle Eastern crisis. Those things are hard. I’m just trying to be light in a dark place (which is hard sometimes). It’s lonely and dificult and frustrating and, well, dark, but there is a light that shines in the darkness (John 1), brighter than my wimpy, dinky little flame, and, indeed is my light, and the source of my flame. I definitely am not able to do much of anything without Christ. I don’t think I really believed that until I wrote it just now.

And this is the second thing I’m learning, about following through. I’ve believed I can’t do anything worthy without Jesus before, and stopped, and I’m sure that I will stop believing that I really need Jesus again. This is a testimony to my brokenness and, even more, to God’s grace. Just as Jesus reinstated Peter, I’ve been reinstated so many times, it boggles the mind. But Jesus sticks with me like the prophet Hosea to the prostitute Gomer. One of the early Christian sayings found in 2 Timothy includes this: “If we are faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot disown himself.” Praise the LORD for this! I’m not always going to endure, to maintain that “long obedience in the same direction”, though, today especially, I desire to just that with all my heart. I am so grateful that God is faithful even when I’m not, and especially when I’m not. I have a hard enough time praying about daily bread and forgiving sins, I don’t know if I should be saying that I would follow Jesus to the cross. Hopefully, that’s not going to be asked of me yet.

Here’s the chorus from Andrew Peterson’s song “Faith to be Strong” that I’ve been using as a prayer, much more so recently:

“Give us faith to be strong, give us strength to be faithful,
‘Cause life is not long but it’s hard.
Give us grace to go on, make us willing and able.
LORD, give us faith to be strong.”

As for news, I’m alive and well. Allergies are running wild here, but I can still breathe. We’re basically into summer here and have started meeting outside at a local park. It’s so beautiful here and the weather is very friendly (not like the bullying humidity of H-town), so it’s easy to be outside.

I also passed my Spanish exam. Six out of ten! It was easier than I thought it was going to be. I completed it quickly, but in pencil. As I went to turn it in, my teacher informed me that I would have to retake the exam in pen. Luckily, I was just able to copy the exam and hand it back in (well, maybe not luckily, since the exam I was copying, mine, was from a guy who only knows about six out of ten of the answers. I guess that’s another lesson I’ve been learning, even though it’s about whom to copy an exam from). I did get to keep my pencil test, and let my Spanish flat mate check it. He said they were hard verb conjugations, so I’m glad I passed.

I was also invited to play at a café in Santiago this past Thursday night. Some missionaries trying to church plant in Santiago own the café. There was an artist beginning to display her art, so I played dulcimer in the background. It was great fun, and a few people came up to me, asking what I was playing and where it was from. One of the café owners said extended an open invitation to come back. I was so pumped and excited. I had really missed playing in coffee shops, especially the weekly times I had in Hillsboro at Little Pleasures with Rod. Good times.

Please continue to pray for the growth of the church. We also have a full summer. A team is coming from California to play in some local bars and open air events, helping to promote Alpha. Pray for open hearts and people interested in the Alpha program, as well as the endurance of the group when they arrive and are here, staying up way late every night. Allergies and sickness have abounded in the church and our mission team. Please continue to pray for good health. I’m looking for a way to get involved in the community, some kind of service oriented community program where I’ll be able to talk with people on a daily basis. Pray for my discernment about entering a community program, which one, or if I should enter one at all. And, as always, please pray for continued Spanish acquisition and discipline to continue reading and studying even though school’s out.

Thank you so much for your prayers and financial support! As always, I’d love to hear from any of you. Let me know how I can pray for you. And now, I've gotta run (literally).

Grace and Peace,
Nate