too weak, two week

I’m trying something new in the endless battle of the bulge. I’m doing the RPM class at the gym (a.k.a. “Spin,” or “really painful bike riding, set to music“  in most other gyms). I’d say it’s as easy as riding a bike, but that might give one the impression this is not a difficult effort.

I have never sweat so much in my life.

I almost blacked out the first morning.

My legs were sore for almost a week.

Sounds like fun, huh?

As I began this new brand of torture, I also started looking at changing my approach to food. I’ve been watching very carefully what I do during the day, keeping fat content and other stuff at bay, while trying to kick in the protein and other good stuff.

As I was thinking this morning about what to get to take me through the week at work, I had a troubling thought:

I will put a tremendous amount of thought and effort into what I eat, how food is prepared, portion size, etc., and there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. But why is it so much harder for me to bring that same intensity to bear on what is my biggest problem? Why is it that I can focus for a year and a half on busting my gut, but I have trouble maintaining my focus on holiness and righteous living for more than two weeks at a time?

Don’t misuderstand – I’m not going back to old patterns of behavior every two weeks; instead, I find that I am intently focused on taking all the right steps, calling people, being highly involved in others’ lives…all for brief periods. Then I retreat again, back into my coccoon, back to the safety of not having to deal with real people.

It perplexes me. I see what I need to do, and I can talk a good game – but there are times when my heart just isn’t really in it.

I know that a muscle builds endurance through being torn and rebuilt. Strength doesn’t come from light work. As Benjamin Disreali said, “No pain, no gain. No gain, no brain.” Most people leave off the last half of that quote. I’ve been able to retrain my brain regarding exercise. I know what will likely happen if I don’t work out, and I know that losing the weight of a sack of concrete has made my days much less painful.

I also know that there are similar benefits and risks in not getting “fit” spiritually. The obvious problem is that the risks are less tangible.

So what do I do to make the risks more real? How do I reach a point where I take to heart what my head already knows, that I don’t want to cross the finish line in the back of the pack?  I really want to hear, “Well done – good job” at the finish line, not “Well, I guess you made it.“

Perhaps I’ve forgotten one of the mantras of recovery – one day at a time. Thinking ahead is not a bad thing – but maybe I need to establish a pattern of single days – one that lasts longer than two weeks – before I start getting concerned about the long term.

i surrender all

Step 3 of the 12 Steps is:

Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God

This is so closely linked to step 2, accepting the need for a Higher Power, that the 12-step meetings I used to attend always presented the two as one. I want to address it separately because I think this is easily misunderstood. It can be a roadblock for some, and is glossed over by others.

Here are a few examples of what this does not mean:

• “I ask God each morning when I get up, ‘What clothes should I wear today?’”
• “I’m waiting to hear from God. In fact, I’m just going to sit here in the basement in my underwear and not do a thing until I hear from God what I should do next.”
• “God wants me to be happy. This total withdrawal from {insert addictive behavior here} makes me unhappy. I’m just going to do a little bit to ease the strain.”

First, God does care about the intimiate details of your life. He wants for you to know His heart (He already knows yours). I don’t see anything in the Bible, nor from my experience, that suggests that God cares a bit about what clothes I am wearing. I should modify that a little. If I wear clothes with the intent of distracting others and/or drawing (sexual) attention to myself, that probably ain’t getting a heavenly thumbs-up. But God is not a fashion slave.

To the person who plans to sit and do nothing until they hear God’s voice, enjoy the silence. I believe God speaks, and I think it is hard to hear when we are distracted by, well, life; but there is a difference between having a quiet time to reflect and listen vs. just sitting there waiting for the hand of God to start writing on the basement wall.

And for my last example above, where does the Bible say that God wants you to be happy? Don’t get me wrong; I don’t think walking around in sackcloth and ashes serves much of a purpose; but there is a huge difference between a life of contentment/joy and a life of happiness. I am pressed down by my circumstances. I feel the weight of so many expenses and limited resources. I see my house as a list of urgent projects rather than a home. But I know that, in the end, it really is going to be okay. What needs to happen will. I will find the time and the money to do the things that are most important, and the rest…I need to just let go.

Turning my will over to God is the logical response to steps one and two. If I’ve made a mess, and only God can straighten things out, seems like asking Him in to clean things up should be a natural response.

But it isn’t always that easy. Sometimes the very issues that led us to our behaviors are the things that keep us from inviting God in. I know one man who was sexually abused by a member of the clergy. He tries, but he has such a hard time separating those actions, and that man, from God. Others have been wounded in their childhood by family members. If the wound was inflicted by a parent, it would not be a surprise that we would have trouble trusting God. Most of our opinion about God flows directly from our feelings about our parents, for better or for worse. And if our parents were not worthy of our trust, we will project that onto God.

How to get past this…I don’t know any easy answers. If I did, I’d be writing a book rather than posting for free. I know that part of the answer is to recognize that your parents were not God, and to separate their humanity from His divinity. This is infinitely harder to do if you aren’t learning about God’s heart, and you can’t do that without taking a look at the love letter He wrote to you. You’ll find it in the “Religion” section of your local bookstore, which is kind of offensive, I think. It isn’t a book about religion; it is the ultimate guide to relationships, with special emphasis on a relationship God wants to have with you.

Th end of the text of Step Three says “as we understood God.” Some use this as a catch-all for whatever you decide to make your god. But be cautious. If you decide your god is, as Firesign Theater once said, a

hairy thunderer, or cosmic muffin,

you’ve sold Him, and yourself, short. He’s bigger and stronger, and more loving than that. He’s not a wood nymph, a spirit in nature. He is above nature. He is above all. And He wants you to know Him. How cool is that?