it's a marathon

i know lots of marathoners. i, however, am not one of them.  my sisters have both run marathons, my husband, many of my friends, and last year, even my son. but not me. i am not destined to that rockstar category or cut from that kind of commitment cloth. i’m a sprinter. [and not a fast one at that]. don’t get me wrong, i’m about as competitive as they come, but i like the short race, the short game, the quick result. i like to walk away with a trophy or a ribbon or at least a little sweat and move on to the next thing.

i think that’s why i’m struggling a bit with where we are in our covid-19 pandemic.

i thought, by now, it would be all wrapped up.

i thought it might be over.

i thought we’d all be moving on.

but, clearly, we aren’t.

and from much of what i’m hearing, this woman who prefers a sprint has found herself and her entire world smack-dab-in-the-middle of a marathon.

even as we “make the best of it,” and “count our many, many blessings,” it is clear, our globe is growing collectively wearier by the moment. i felt that creeping in this week. ask my kids and husband about the grumpy lady living in their house. they’ll tell you. i don’t marathon well. i want to sprint my way right through this and move on.  i want to see my son graduate from college, i want to watch my littlest one dance in her recital, i want to visit my out-of-state family, i want to take my 30th wedding anniversary trip with my husband … heck, i just want to walk into the grocery store without the creepy movie feeling of mask covered customers.  

please do not hear complaint, hear my candor. i am certain even with these disappointments they pale terrifically in comparison to the heart-crushing stories stretching hard across our world. mine are mine, but, they are minor.

i woke this morning shrouded in that heaviness. burdened deeply, even before the sun showed her face. but in God’s goodness and perfect timing, He led me to this scripture from hebrews:

“let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. for the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” hebrews 12:1 & 2

eight years ago, when our oldest son, tyler, graduated from 8th grade, i was asked to give the graduation address and guess what scripture i used? yep, this very passage from hebrews. i reminded those 14 year old graduates that we couldn't possibly know what "the race marked out for us" might look like, but we can know the way to run "eyes fixed on Jesus," and, our thoughts as well, "consider Him." whatever our race, He is always the way through it. those 8th graders are now graduating this month from college, without any pomp and circumstance, mind you, but with a better understanding of the race marked out for them. what a strange time for them to enter the world of work and adulthood. i'm not sure any of their 16+ years of education could have prepared them for this.

it was good for me to remember that little talk. i needed to give it to myself this morning. 

and though, i’m convicted, i’m also newly encouraged to keep on keeping on. not by my own strength — heavens no! but to keep my eyes on Jesus. to remember the cross He carried so that all of our daily crosses and crises and, even our complaints and disappointments—however big or small—can be handed over to Him. 

we don’t know how many miles this marathon might prove to be, but we can know with certainty that victory is possible. not just at the finish line, but possible in each and every day. because of Him. 

weary ones, i don't know the exact race you are running. i'm sure some of you are facing hills harder and miles longer than i could even begin to imagine. but God's hope and His cross are for all of us—regardless of who we are are or how fast we run. whether you are made to marathon, sprint or just amble along slowly, i do hope this has offered you a bit of encouragement today. fix your eyes on Jesus. consider Him. 

“but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; 

they shall mount up with wings like eagles; 

they shall run and not be wear;

the shall walk and not faint.”  

isaiah 40:31

april 19th & covid-19 & afraid

it was 9 years ago on april 19th when the doctor called to confirm my breast cancer. “i’m sorry, jody, but the pathology is back— the tumor is malignant.” 

i was sitting beneath a giant oak tree in my friend's front yard when i got the call. 

i’m sure i’ll never quite forget that sunny april day —

those blue skies. 

that giant tree.

the feel of the phone awkward on my ear. 

the tears hot down my cheeks. 

the breath leaving my body hard.

that day marked me. seared something deep inside. changed everything all at once. 

i felt like life would never be the same. 

i felt like normal would never quite return.

i felt abandoned by my God and angered at this news. 

how could life be going along so nicely and then in the 30 seconds of a phone call all completely unravel around me? nothing had prepared me for this sudden shift.

i never saw it coming. 

i was blindsided.

and in those weeks of diagnosis, almost daily doctor appointments, and a double mastectomy, i became very afraid. very scared and unsure about what the future might hold. with five young kids, i tried my best to appear calm and in control. i said all the right things. i gave all the right assurances.

but deep within, nothing felt very right or very sure. 

anxiety seemed to be my new found friend. i couldn’t escape it. especially at night. i’d wake to it sitting heavy on my chest. many early mornings i'd crawl out of bed, find a quiet corner and weep. i pled with God. i promised Him everything if He’d only rescue me from cancer and restore my life to normal. 

i didn’t like my april that year.

maybe this april has you feeling something similar. maybe all this covid-19 stuff has brought great anxiety and fear. maybe it has you waking in the middle of the night wondering why. maybe it has you questioning God and His goodness. maybe it has you asking what if and what’s next. maybe it has you longing for normalcy and pleading for things to go back to the way they were before. 

gosh, i get it. 

i’m ready for normal life to return too. 

but as i woke today remembering that april day 9 years ago, i couldn’t help but also remember how God used that hard time in my life to make His holy presence known--louder and clearer and more beautiful than i could have even imagined.

it took some time, yes. but i was able to eventually see how God didn't waste it, but was actually very much at work in it. He hadn’t abandoned me, but He used that time, instead, to help anchor me closer to Him. 
He used that april (and may and june and july) as a wake up call in my life —

a wake up call to new levels of gratitude and grace.

a wake up call to new eyes for His gifts. 

a wake up call to a stronger and more firm faith.

a wake up call to my need for a Savior.

it’s not easy to understand when we are in the midst of suffering or pain. goodness, it isn’t. but it is in these very places—these places of wild wondering and broken weeping—that God shows us His glory. isn't it true, often we have to come to the end of ourselves to see the beginning of our desperate need for Him? 

if i’m honest, up until that point in my life, i kind of was my own savior. i mean i talked the talk all the time, but i really never understood the depth of my need. i just didn’t. it is hard to see a great lacking when things feel pretty lovely.

maybe you’re not liking your april right now either. 

like everyone else, you’re ready for this covid-19 stuff to all be over. but i would encourage us as we are walking through this challenging month to lean into Him … to look to Him … to see what He has to show us--His glory, His gifts, His grace---those things so easy to take for granted when all is going well. ask Him. 

are we in need of an april wake up call? 

that doesn't mean it will be easy. april 19th, 2011 was an incredibly hard day. and it ushered in an incredibly hard few months following. but nine years later, i know that none of it was wasted. God was working even through my anxiety, my anger and in my feelings of abandonment. He used those very things to anchor me to Him. 

"we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the HOPE set before us. we have this as a sure and steadfast ANCHOR of the SOUL, a HOPE that enters into the inner place." hebrews 6:18-19

to Him be the glory forever.

“i consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. for the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. for the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the One who subjected it, in HOPE that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the FREEDOM and GLORY of God.” romans 8: 18-20

dwell. shelter. rest. refuge. 

our world is talking a lot about these words these days. 

of course we are.

we are afraid, unsure, uncertain. 

the present is inconceivable. 

the future unknown. 

and, believe me, i get it. 

i get the fear and the middle-of-the-night anxiety. 

i get the what if’s and the what nexts.

but God’s promise in psalm 91 remains true: DWELL with Him—the Most High—in His SHELTER ... and you will find rest & refuge. 

do these words promise perfect health or a pain free life? no, they do not. but rest & refuge are gifts which go beyond our physical well being. these earthly bodies are only a part of the equation. surely we must know that by now. there must be more. 

and there is. 

rest & refuge are attainable for those in any circumstance. all circumstances. 

THESE circumstances, my friend.

rest & refuge are what we each deeply desire, no matter the demise of disease or the destruction of our days. 

there’s no magic wand to make it all go away, but there is a Mighty Warrior God who calls us to find our rest & refuge in Him. 

a God who can cover us softly with the down of His feathers, and yet, protect us fiercely with the strength of His wings. 

dwell there with Him. 

james 4:8 encourages us “draw near to God, and He will draw near to us.” 

BUT...

how do you draw near?

how do you dwell with Him?

well, begin with your bible, dear ones. start with psalm 91. read His word. you have time. now is the time.