Up before dawn, I leave the house with a sweatshirt over a t-shirt, wind pants, and, this time of year, a pair of gloves and a fleece ear band. I’m still bleary eyed when I hit the streets of the borough for a little interval training – intervals of walking and running, four miles of it and then I’m ready for the day. Some mornings I ought to punch the time clock; it’s a good time for sermon or lesson planning, untangling the knots of a difficult pastoral care situation. Other mornings I just plod along and not a thought worth remembering passes through my mind.
The mornings were cold early this week, 24 degrees on Monday and 22 on Tuesday. My sweatshirt and wind pants are hardly a stout defense against the chill, but at about mile one the internal furnace that is the human body if fully fired and I begin to think about something other than being cold.
Yesterday morning the temperature was 34 degrees when I went out (no early morning run today – Becky and I hope to get out for a walk later in the day). 34 degrees! I shed the ear band just past the one-mile mark and the gloves came off somewhere in the third mile. By the time I was back at the front door of our house, the sweatshirt was off and my t-shirt damp with sweat. What a difference those 12 degrees made.
34 degrees makes for good running weather. But it’s not warm. I must keep moving, burning energy, to hold the cold at bay. I’d be in trouble if I had to stop. Rest must wait until I am back inside the house.
Rest is both a discipline and a gift of the Christian life. I am not good at it. Having declared the Father’s love for those he calls, Jesus said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Like a cold-weather runner, I sometimes am afraid that if I stop moving, if I quit stoking the fire in the furnace, the bitter chill of the wintry world will overwhelm me. Slow, steady, plodding; I keep running. I dare not stop.
The Apostle Paul uses running images to describe the Christian life. We are to keep running to win the prize. Near the end of his life he tells Timothy, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” Those are my images. Keep running.
There is no contradiction between Jesus and the Apostle. Keep running. Fight the fight and finish the race. “Come, rest, learn from me.” Images, race and rest, of a relationship, not regulations or bureaucratic mandates.
My mornings on the dark and cold streets of the borough are life-giving. I’d be foolish to stop and rest at the two-mile mark, however. 34 is better than 22, but it’s still not warm.
I don’t need to work on rest – work a little harder at resting a little better!? I must accept the gift of rest. Jesus has offered it.
See you Sunday