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Stumped over on the bench with my arms on my elbows and gloves covering my eyes, sweat dripped from my nose and chin. Removing my gloves, tears welled and dropped to small puddles on the concrete floor. Taped, cramped hands became closed fists. Rehearsing the previous round in my mind's eye, doubt pierced my soul. My mind wondered if I was qualified to continue sparring in this arena and feared that I wasn't even qualified from the start.
What if people saw my utter dependence on Christ? What if they saw that I controlled less and less? What if I worked harder and harder and better and better and still felt out of balance and unsure? Wouldn't that be out of control? What if my portion of need seemed so much larger than theirs? What if I knew He was enough, but didn't always live that promise? What if they knew I was this weary? What if they knew that some days my motions were only sustained by His promises? Didn't that sound lost? What if they knew that some moments music didn't dance anymore? What if they knew that music didn't just lift my soul, but it also pierced it? What if they saw that His words jumped off pages for me? Did that mean I needed a lot of guidance? What if they knew I could hear him speak in my ear more and more these last training years? Did that mean I was needy and unsure? I couldn't figure out how not to be this way. What if they knew that my quietness was listening to Him, desperately trying to hear His words? What if they knew how hard I had trained and still lost? Would I be mistaken for lost?
And what did my Trainer say of my defeat in the public arena made private? He picked up the sweat stained towel and wiped my brow, pressing hard against me as He sat on the bench. A familiar feeling of His pressing. He had pressed hard during recent training. He sat with me alone together; His tears began to puddle. No words were spoken, but there was knowing. He placed His arm over my back and held tight until my sobs became sighs and the eyes no longer leaked and my nose was swiped. A sidewise glance suspended our eyes in knowing and with heads shaking in affirmation we both knew "yes and amen." As we stood, His wind-knocking bear hug held me close, and I rested my head to His shoulders. Just upon release and as if in a final knowing, He took my partially wrapped hands and raised them to the sky mirroring them with His hands, fingers wide. He didn't make promises of future fights or improved training; in quiet He just held my shaky, sweaty, small palms high.
I accepted with less wavering legs what His mouth did not speak out loud but pierced into my soul, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' And then the music faintly seeped into my soul, a song sharp and tender, freeing but all consuming. In this moment of grief, He whispered in my ears words to worship in gratitude:
"Though You Slay Me" by Shane and Shane featuring John Piper.
I come, God, I come
I return to the Lord
The one who’s broken
The one who’s torn me apart
You strike down to bind me up
You say you do it all in love
That I might know you in your suffering
Though you slay me
Yet I will praise you
Though you take from me
I will bless your name
Though you ruin me
Still I will worship
Sing a song to the one who’s all I need
My heart and flesh may fail
The earth below give way
But with my eyes, with my eyes I’ll see the Lord
Lifted high on that day
Behold, the Lamb that was slain
And I’ll know every tear was worth it all
Though you slay me
Yet I will praise you
Though you take from me
I will bless your name
Though you ruin me
Still I will worship
Sing a song to the one who’s all I need
Though tonight I’m crying out
Let this cup pass from me now
You’re still more than I need
You’re enough for me
You’re enough for me
Audio excerpt:
[Not only is all your affliction momentary, not only is all your affliction light in comparison to eternity and the glory there. But all of it is totally meaningful. Every millisecond of your pain, from the fallen nature or fallen man, every millisecond of your misery in the path of obedience is producing a peculiar glory you will get because of that.
I don’t care if it was cancer or criticism. I don’t care if it was slander or sickness. It wasn’t meaningless. It’s doing something! It’s not meaningless. Of course you can’t see what it’s doing. Don’t look to what is seen.
When your mom dies, when your kid dies, when you’ve got cancer at 40, when a car careens into the sidewalk and takes her out, don’t say, “That’s meaningless!” It’s not. It’s working for you an eternal weight of glory.
Therefore, therefore, do not lose heart. But take these truths and day by day focus on them. Preach them to yourself every morning. Get alone with God and preach his word into your mind until your heart sings with confidence that you are new and cared for.]
Though you slay me
Yet I will praise you
Though you take from me
I will bless your name
Though you ruin me
Still I will worship
Sing a song to the one who’s all I need
Sing a song to the one who’s all I need
The audio excerpt comes from John Piper’s message, “Do Not Lose Heart” (2013).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyUPz6_TciY&feature=share
I see now that He agonized from my corner of the ring, knowing this particular fight in the arena would come and where I would succumb. He knew he would pick me up off the mat and water the thirsty soul with His well water. He knew he would again remind me of HIS stance. He has trained me in this over and over. Now, He realized I didn't want to endure the 12 rounds of a prize fight. He knew I would STAND numb here at this moment, legs quivering and heart realizing I had fought to the end of my strength. And maybe the end of my strength could mean the end of my desire to fight, the end of my hope to defend myself, the end of my seeking for clarity, the end of my wanting to please others, the end of my trying to appear strong and unscathed by inflicted wounds.
When I was ready to throw in the towel, He stepped in to the ring to defend me, to replace my strength, to take my jabs and bruises. And therein, I know my story is not really about a boxing match, a 4:30 in the afternoon bout with a parent that brought my heart to the floor, but it was a bout within myself.
This fight brought me low to my knees, humbled me. Training creates memory muscle so when the battle begins our response is rote, without thinking. I felt prayed up, versed up, but when this battle raged, my memory muscle for the stance failed. I wasn't able to hold the stance, to stand firm (which in practice really looks much more like a hard off-balanced LEAN on HIM). Like a puffy eyed boxer unable to see his opponent, I flailed around the ring fighting an unseen opponent, jabbed at air, traded the dance for stumbling, leaned to find rest. A ghost fight within me, wounding myself.
When life's battles require me to be on guard, to stand strong, to be courageous (I Cor. 16:13), my mind and body immediately jump to action. I survey and plan what needs to be done and where to go. I ready to battle, to swing, to jab, to begin, to work hard, to work harder, to do, to do more.
So when He firmly lifted my body from the mat, with the opponent still dancing circles around the ring, clapping his gloves in fury, he whispered in my ear that if I just stopped wasting my energy and stopped being distracted by the opponent and just stood still and let Him fight we would gain victorious life (Luke 21:19).
He reminded me that the greater courage is knowing the battle raged all around me in the arena and being able to face it without flinching, jabbing, moving.
He reminded me that strength and bravery are found when we prepare, when we gear up, when we wear the correct protective garments of salvation, peace, truth, righteousness, and faith for our bodies, minds, and souls and then let Him do the fighting (Eph 6:12-18).
He reminded me to stand firm no matter where the punches landed, no matter the points tallied, no matter the blood spilled. I was commanded to not waste wearily away and waver in imbalance, but uphold that training stance girded by a core strength of truth buckled at my waist. I was only called upon to watch no matter the pain and anguish I perceived and humbly know that allowing my fight to become His fight was the only round to complete victory. He exchanged my doubt and recrimination for lessons of enough, of hope, and of joy.
He reminded me TO STAND confidently and trust that He will be the author of my needed training, my fights, my work, my defeats, and all my days, but then He will also be the finisher of my training, my fights, my work, my defeats, and my life (Hebrews 12:2).
He reminded me of His training promises: His plans are for me and they are good. Even when I know the battle rages near, even when it is dark and I cannot see where the enemy of sadness and weary creep in, even if I am pummeled to the mat again, His enough and in-time love will lift me under my arms to hold me up to stand with hands raised high in victory.
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