Tuesday, March 29, 2011

"Oh honey, there are so many things in life worth your tears, but this just isn't one of them..."

This was a converstation I had with one of my players, who was also a cheerleader, that had a cheer competition and basketball game on the same day earlier this year.

For some reason this scene that played out in the weightroom months ago popped into my head and got me thinking.

I'm not ashamed to say that it the past 12 months I've had my far share of crying, and honestly, I could probably justify the majority of those tears-heartache, frustration, growing, change, confusion...very few people would fault me for it. As my mom says, "It's more that ok to have your moment, just don't let it become WHO you are."

But when I'm honest with myself, how many of those tears were shed for the hurting and the hungry?
For the lost?
How many tears led to positive action rather than self pity?
Were any out of brokenness or humility?
And when I get to the heart of it, what does that say about my priorities?
And how do I even begin to justify that?

I'm running in a marathon in a couple weeks. Well, actually a relay marathon-which is far less impressive, but still quite far. I committed to run a couple of months ago and have had ample time to prepare. Yet, here I am, two weeks away and can still barely make it two miles without stopping. Sad, huh?

There are so many times when I'm humbled by how far I have to go (not that I ever thought I was close to where I need to be, but wowzers!). Is my lack of preparedness, motivation, and commitment a trend in my life? Or in my walk with Christ?

But the good news, no, the BEST news, is that Christ consistently and subtly calls our attention to the things that matter. The things of Him. He puts people and things and memories and stories and movies and a baby's laughter and snow capped mountains in our lives, and all of these somehow beckon us sweetly and softly back to Him.

And suddenly the beauty of mountains and the pain of running and the memory of a conversation from months before make me more acutely aware of my passions and priorities in a wonderfully intricate way. A way that only my Father could weave together to make sense in my life.
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