The Hills We Die On

I'm hesitant to even publish this post.  I've been going through a "crisis of faith" over the past year or so, and I don't like for people to see my weakness.  But, everyone needs a space to just say what they think.  You might not understand or agree with everything I say, but this is my space to be honest.  I don't necessarily want advice.  In fact, perhaps some of the most hurtful things I have experienced over the past year have been receiving people's unwanted advice or flippant responses to some very difficult questions.  I know that I need to trust God, that "everything happens for a reason" and that "it will all be okay in the end."  I know.  Sometimes all I need is someone to listen without interjecting, "Oh, I know what that's like" or "I have experienced something similar when..."  Just listening and not immediately trying to "fix" me or my issues can be so powerful.

I'm writing for the above reasons, but mostly I am writing for this one.  Over the course of this recent struggle, I have felt either completely crazy or totally alone.  So I'm chronicling my journey primarily in the hopes that maybe someone reading this, someone who has felt completely crazy or totally alone, will take comfort in the fact that probably neither of those things are true.  For sure not the "alone" part.  So reader, if this is you, take heart.  

All of that said, here are just a few of my thoughts lately.    

Go on up to the mountain of mercy
To the crimson perpetual tide
        Kneel down on the shore
Be thirsty no more

Go under and be purified

Follow Christ to the holy mountain
Sinner sorry and wrecked by the fall
Cleanse your heart and your soul
In the fountain that flowed
For you and for me and for all...

The mountain of mercy.  The holy mountain.  Golgatha.  Calvary.  The hill where Jesus died.

Call it whatever you want, but I don't think that the hill Jesus died on and the hill(s) most Christians die on are the same one.  This issue has been one of the main things that has confused me and made me question who God is lately.  For my whole life, I have never really questioned what exactly I believe and why.  [No wonder people think Christians are idiots.  Exhibit A: Mary Rachel Fenrick.]  I have always had my lists of "Christian Do's and Don'ts" and have been ever so careful to stick to those.  Don't drink alcohol until you're 21.  Do volunteer for Such and Such Christian Activity.  Don't have sex oustide of marriage.  Do tithe 10% of your income.  Don't steal.  Do read your Bible every day.  There are some other, perhaps less obvious, but equally divisive issues.  Don't vote Democrat.  Do homeschool your children.  Moms, don't work outside the home.  Kids, listen to only Christian music.  Do go to a Baptist church because of ABC.  Don't go to a non-demoninational church because of XYZ.

For so long, I have tied myself to these issues, thinking that they are what saves me.  The conclusion I have come to recently is this:  Perhaps those issues are important (some of them definitely are).  Maybe you should have an opinion about them.  The problem becomes when you, like I have done, stake your life on those things or, "choose those hills to die on".  Because then, the Christian life becomes about the Christian and his viewpoint instead of the Christ. 

To be honest, I'm still confused about what a Christian should look like.  But I don't really think it looks like someone who wraps her life around anything except the Ultimate thing, tries to be her own savior, or convinces others that their only hope is to believe the exact same way she does about some above-mentioned, non-essential things (aka, "old Mary Rachel").  I do know that a Christian is supposed to look like Christ, who actually only died on one hill, the one mentioned in the song.  He died on the hill to save all types of people from all types of sins.  That's it.  He didn't die on the Republican hill or the anti-abortion hill, however important those hills may be.  Just the one.       

Christian, would you, with me, try to get the most important thing right first?  I'm not good at this.  I'm often a Pharisee.  But I think that the only way to true freedom for you, for me, and for everyone is to stop carrying our crosses up the hills that we have created and start following Christ to the one hill.

Non-Christian, would you be willing to forgive us?  You're absolutely right about the Christians not being much like the Christ.  I think that one of the reasons I have been so confused about Christianity lately is because I have been looking to Christians to define it for me instead of to Christ.  I want my questions answered and my doubts assuaged.  But I don't think people can do that for me.  So would you, with me, attempt to look at who Jesus really is instead of at Christians, who (myself included) are such inaccurate representations?                        

A Lesson in Humility

Do you ever think that you're invincible?  You know, that you can do anything without getting hurt, worn down, or burned out?  Yeah, me neither. *Ahem.*

After running a marathon, the state of my foot has been a simple reminder that I can't do it all.  A couple of mornings ago, I nearly threw up when I stepped out of bed because the top of my foot hurt so badly.  (Thankfully, I think it is just swollen and not a stress fracture.  It still feels miserable.)  But a sore foot wasn't enough to stop me from going out for a run. I thought to myself, "Hey, I ran a marathon 2 days ago.  I think I'll go run 9 miles this morning.  Ain't no thang!" Wrong.  Not only did my foot hurt worse than ever, but my toenail fell off as soon as I got home because there was a huge blister underneath and my socks were bloody from another blister on my pinky toe.  Oh, and I didn't even end up running 9 miles.  Surprise, Mary Rachel!  You can't do it all.

I left the Band-aids on for everyone's sake.

I'm not just this way about running.

"Hey Mary Rachel, can you blah blah blah at such and such time?"
"Oh sure, I already have another commitment at that time, but I'll just be in two places at once of course!"

When I needed to score well on a test in college, I'd just study my little heart out at the expense of everything else and I'd make an A.

If my kids at work ever need anything, I pour my soul into my job, often neglecting my husband, my friends, and even my personal well-being.  But by golly, I make sure my job is done well.

There is value in living this way, to a certain extent only.  It's good to work hard.  It's good to not be lazy.  But it's not good to always be trusting in your own strength to get things done, because you WILL get worn out and you WILL fail sometimes.

As the school year is coming to a close (just 3 more short weeks!), I can't help but thinking how, like my foot, the whole year has been a huge lesson in humility.  I feel like I have found a reasonable balance in my life for the first time in ages.  I still err on the side of busyness just for the sake of being busy, but I am doing better.  The humility lesson comes in the fact that I often feel guilty for leaving work when the half day is over because, surprise!, I can't solve the world's problems in the short amount of time I am there.  (Newsflash, MR, you couldn't solve the world's problems even if you were there all day.)  I think back to last year when I was literally falling apart and how I just kept going because I thought I was invincible.  This year hasn't been quite like that, but I often find myself trying to justify the reasons why I am not constantly busy, when it really needs no justification.  I've been humbled in learning that my job, and most other things in my life, really aren't dependent on how how well I perform.  I'm not "super wife," super runner," or "super teacher." For awhile that wasn't okay with me, but it's more okay now than it ever has been.

All of this said, I'm actually going back to working full time next year.  I hope that I can somehow maintain the balance and remember the lessons that I've learned this year.  Until then, you'll probably find me erring on the side of laziness with a book in hand by the pool.  Being a teacher certainly has its perks in the summertime.  :-)

"I'll never run another marathon again."

True story, I said those words and totally meant them a little over two years ago when I ran my first marathon.  Everything about that race was terrible.  (Okay, actually the weather was great.)  I didn't run enough miles beforehand, definitely didn't run enough hills, trained by myself, and practiced in 12 degree weather.  Yes, you read that correctly.  TWELVE degrees outside. 

Then race day came.  Not only did I burst into tears because I had to go to the bathroom so bad and we were stuck in traffic even trying to get to the stupid race (remember that, Dad?), but I couldn't find Andrew during the race to give me my much-needed energy gel.  I don't know why I was thinking that would even work in the first place; you know, only about 20,000 people run these things and the chances of you spotting your spectators along the way are slim.  I've never experienced anything quite as miserable as the last six miles of that race.  Somehow it finally ended.  And then I promised myself and everyone else that I would never run 26.2 miles again.

Funny thing is, though, I obviously ran a marathon again.  So what changed my mind?
1.  I didn't have to train in the middle of winter.
2.  I waited two years before reconsidering my options.  Strange how time makes you forget painful things.  
3.  I decided to hold onto my energy gel (Gu, for you runners out there) at all times.
4.  I trained with a friend.
Mostly #4 changed my mind.  Gosh, I don't know how I used to run for four hours at a time by myself.  Talking with Jessie along the way not only helped me to forget about the cramps shooting through my legs on our 22-mile run, but she motivated me to even get out the door in the first place.  Also, after training for 18 weeks and having to find things to talk about for hours at a time, you either end up really loving someone or really thinking that they're annoying.  I think I made a lifelong friend just by training for a race.  Love you, Jessie.

Marybeth and Molly, my sweet Texas friends. 

April 29, 2012, was not even comparable to February 27, 2010.  So many people came to cheer me on.  It's crazy how just one person cheering for you on the sidelines can build an adrenaline rush that will carry you for miles.  Thanks so much to Molly, Marybeth, and Andrew especially for waking up far before the crack of dawn to go with me.

Andrew's family, Jessie's parents, and several of our other friends were also there.  I was so happy.  Friends (Mal, Ryan, Steve, Bethany, Julie), you probably think it's a little thing to be cheerleaders on the side of the road, but I promise you that it isn't.

Hubs is my biggest fan.

Andrew's sweet family.  Our niece and nephews were obviously thrilled to be there, haha.

 It did start raining... but I'd take rain over heat anyday. 

Ew, look at those hot messes.

I trained much better this time around.  When Gorilla Hill kicked our tails at the race, Jessie and I both looked at each other and said, "We should have trained more hills."  But overall, we did what we should have done beforehand, didn't get upset stomachs, and had a great experience.  When you're running with 3,000 other people, you probably aren't planning on winning.  At least I'm not.  So I was thrilled to have beat my personal goal by just crossing the finish line in one piece, 4 hours and 24 minutes later. 

See, I was smiling because I saw someone I knew!

The home stretch...

I know it's cliche, but running a marathon really is a good metaphor for life.  After running about 23 miles, I began to experience pain in my legs and feet like I've never felt before.  All I wanted to do was to give up and stop running.  The mile marker flags seemed to get farther and farther apart as the course seemed to be endless.  Eventually, though, I finished.  And the feeling at the end of the race was so much more glorious because of having gone through the pain.  No one ever wants to hurt.  We all want the easy way out.  But the easy way is not always the best way, and the lessons learned are always worth the pain.

Enjoy the rest of the pictures.  :-)

So happy to be finished, and to have done it together.  :-)

26.2 miles later!

My awesome friends stayed through the rain to cheer for us.

The man who got me into running in the first place.  :-)