What You're Doing is Hard

If you’d rather listen than read, you can find this TFG on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.

In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
-Jesus, John 16:33​

My wife sometimes reminds me to be careful about sharing stories in my writing that she calls "unrelatable." 

She's right, of course. But since I see all of life through metaphor, this week I've got to share what I'm noticing through my very odd interests and experiences. And even though my hobbies aren't normal, God uses them to reveal holy things that feel universal. 

That's my disclaimer. Now back to today's programming:
Two weeks ago I ran a 65-mile race over the mountains of northern Pennsylvania. It was a grueling course that climbed (and descended) over 2 1/2 vertical miles all day long. It started in the dark and it ended in the dark. It took me 17 hours to get to the finish line, and it brought me to my literal breaking point several times. 

There's something about ultramarathons of this magnitude that I'm slowly beginning to learn. And it's one of the reasons I'm drawn to them. It's something that has nothing to do with running ability and nothing to do with trying to beat others. It has to do with compassionately acknowledging the universal experience of suffering. 

One of the reasons I choose self-imposed suffering in trail races is because it shapes me as a human and as a pastor. Hitting my limits and experiencing weakness in the physical world is a tool that teaches me compassion in the emotional and spiritual world for myself and for others. 

In an ultramarathon like this, even during the race itself, that compassion gets expressed clearly. 

My experience two weeks ago was a glimpse of the best of what humanity can be. Once significant fatigue hits, runners begin to realize that their battle is not nearly against others as much as we thought. Instead, the struggle is within ourselves and the path that lies ahead of us. And when you meet someone along that journey of suffering you do not see them as an adversary, but as a fellow partner. You want them to overcome the struggle, and you want to see them succeed. In the final 8 hours of the race, there wasn't one time where I was happy to see a depleted person huddled up in a ball on the side of the trail. I could tell they were hurting, and I wanted them to make it. Why? 

Because what they were doing was hard. And I was able to acknowledge it because I knew it firsthand. I felt it too. 

And all the people who passed me in the final miles? They told me, "you're doing great. You'll get through this. Let's get to that line." 
I was having knee trouble at mile 32 and I almost dropped out of the race until I caught up to a more experienced 100k runner on a climb who completely changed my perspective. He told me not to give up, but to change my mentality about it, be more patient with my pacing and he promised I'd be able to finish. The power of someone else saying that it was ok that I was hurting, and that I was doing just fine shifted my outlook on the day completely. I decided not to give up. 

And then I hit my crew at mile 38––my amazing friends John and Sarah who had given up their entire weekend to be sleep deprived and support me at checkpoints along the way, helping me change my shoes, get my headlamp, and restock nutrition. John even did the last 26+ miles alongside me to keep me company and make sure I was eating and drinking enough. Words can't express the gratitude I felt to have my friends say, you're doing something hard, but we're with you as you get through it. 

Everyone was committed to this message. Every runner I met hoped that the others around them succeeded and was happy to see someone doing well rather than struggling. Volunteers got up at 3am to set up their aid stations and serve runners all day long, celebrating for the first place runner every bit as much as the final finisher... and even the ones who didn't make it all the way. 

Every time we got to an aid station for some food and fluids, the music and the helping hands and the attitudes of every volunteer gave off the same vibe: 
You are doing something hard, and you deserve to be supported and celebrated. 

That sort of support did not take away the pain. But it gave me a different sort of strength alongside it. All of a sudden, gratitude and goodness were available, and the pain was not the only truth. I started noticing beauty again. I was hurting, but I remember putting on my headlamp after 15 hours when the sun went down and telling John, "I've always wanted to start running in the dark and keep running until it’s dark again. This is awesome!" 

That's what happens when others notice that you're doing something hard, but believe you're able to make it. 

What if each of us walked through life with that attitude about every single beloved human that we encountered? What if we looked at people "and loved them," like we're told Jesus did? 

What would it look like if we were on each other's side instead of against each other so frequently? What would happen if we said, I see what you're doing, and I acknowledge that it's hard. I'm for you. 

When we encounter those who are poor and struggling, what if we, as Father Gregory Boyle wrote, learned to "stand in awe at what they have to carry rather than stand in judgment at how they carry it?" 
What you're doing is hard. 

In our churches, what if we looked at all parents with overwhelming compassion as they navigate the impossible task of raising young people in today's world? 
What you're doing is hard. 

In our churches, what if we looked at single folks who keep showing up and offering their gifts, even when programming and language is often so family oriented that it subtly excludes anyone who isn't married? 
What you're doing is hard. 

What if we actively acknowledged the courage it requires for so many of our LGBTQ+ friends to simply walk through life with people who are suspicious of them and want to erase or ignore their very existence?
What you're doing is hard. 

What if we looked at someone that we knew absolutely nothing about, and before making any other judgments about their politics, their background, their job, or their life, we simply chose to live with the assumption: 
You're doing something hard, and you deserve to be supported and celebrated.

What if we lived like all that was true? Because it is. I just saw it and felt it and it's extraordinary. 

I've seen too many feel like they are suffering silently without anyone to acknowledge how hard this all is. We've got the most stressed out society that I've ever lived through. This is our chance to be the body of Christ. This is our chance to embody the Jesus who communicated this message through his words and his actions. He protected the woman who had been condemned. He healed the woman who had been bleeding. He restored Peter when shame had driven him away. He told all who would follow him one day that he knew it would be hard, but that he would be with them. 

Today, as we follow Jesus, may we have eyes to see that most everyone out there is trying their best, and that alone is deserving of love and compassion. May your kingdom come, Lord, on earth as it is in ultramarathons. 😉 

Jesus, strengthen my heart today, even as I strengthen others. 

Peace,
Keith

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