Actually, as much as I haven't enjoyed my runs, they have produced a lot of praising God for all the little blessings. It goes a little something like this.
It's the end of a full day of work. You just installed a massive log staircase in a massive log(-looking) house. It is 89.5ยบ F in the shade. For some reason--probably due to mental instability caused by being dropped on your head as an infant, because what else could it possibly be--you insist on running six miles in the glaring sun. And so you begin.
The sun is shining. The birds are singing. The gravel roads are searing hot. Even the roadkill you pass after the first mile-and-a-half smells like perfectly smoked southern BBQ (which makes me wonder where they get their meat for BBQ in the south). The rout isn't complicated. You're heading down a three-mile road and planning on an immediate return trip. By mile two you have taken stock of your surroundings and it feels as though the only circulation of air is an ever so faint northwesterly breeze, if it can even be called that. It is hot, you are tired, but you're insane, so you keep going with not a single hope of finding any relief in your journey.
But seriously, why is it that we must periodically be put through difficult, frustrating, and seemingly impossible circumstances before we will acknowledge the little blessings in life. We are told repeatedly in the Bible that we are to be thankful people. There are even some pretty serious consequences for people who will not give God his due in thankfulness for his blessings. The sun shines, the rains fall, and even the breezes blow on the righteous and the wicked alike. The righteous thank God for the warmth of the sun, the nourishment of the rain, and the refreshment of the wind. At the same time the wicked either act as if it is their due, or they grumble that it is too hot, too wet, and it is messing up their hair.
All too often I can find myself falling into the habit of complaining. I may be running the race and persevering in discipline, but I am not enjoying it and I will make my grievances known. Why does the sun have to be so hot? Why can't there be even a hopeful shady cloud in the sky? Why must there be a decided lack of wind? I even come to the point of cynicism wherein I assume that the next turn in the road will mean the end of all refreshment I might have experienced thus far. The worst part is that a small piece of my heart begins to blame God. "You knew I was going for a run. You knew it was going to be a long, arduous, and hot day. Why have YOU abandoned me to this windless misery?"
Truly, one of the greatest blessings of all is that God is still patient with me. When I think of how Job blamed God for afflicting a righteous man such as himself, and how God thoroughly put Job in his place as he responded to Job "out of the storm," I am amazed and humbled and baffled as to why God wouldn't just knock me upside the head for my petty complaints. Instead, he decided to give me a refreshing breeze. It's as if he was saying, "Michael, I know it is hard. I know you don't like it. I know that it seems as if everything is stacked against you. But I am not here to torment you. I may test you for a season, and I may permit the enemy to sift you for a time. But I am always with you. I may not bring you instantly and painlessly to the finish line, but I will give you what you need to make it to the end, and I will run the race with you."
And so, not simply for the refreshment, but especially for the encouragement and the promise, I lift my heart to God in praise.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him, you creatures here below.
Praise Him above, you heavenly host.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Amen.
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