Running… panting… stopping … running again. It’s the daily routine of mine in my haven of an exercise path. I run until I breathe like a steam train… “chugga chugga chugga,” and I fight through the urgings of my flesh to stop the torment and sting.
As I look around me, I notice the changing beauty of nature. What had once seemed like a dead tree is now burgeoning with life and promise. Birds chirp and dance through the air as I pass by. Brightly colored flowers follow my path like so many dazzling and multifaceted gems. I appreciate it at first. I take it in, but the drive to dispel the “out-of-shape” angel of Satan nags me onward; I can’t stop now! I still have a way to go…
The wind picks up. It rustles the newly sprouted leaves and embraces my sweaty and hurting body with comfort from the heat while carrying with it the fragrances of rain and grass. It pushes me forward and encourages my stride. I notice its impact on me, and I strengthen my resolve to fight this fight and finish this course…
I turn the corner… I see the end. But by now, I am struggling to put one foot in front of the other. My weakness makes me wonder, like a spoiled child, what I did to deserve such a firm infirmity. Each step closer to my goal seems to be even farther away than the previous.
Just as I am about to give into my weakness and flop to the ground to crawl my way back like a worm after a rain storm, I say the infamous words on the mouths of all seminarians almost as blasphemy: “Oh GOD!” I catch myself, and finish the entreaty: “Come to my assistance!” I am immediately confronted by the witness of God that I had been present to along my journey. I am reminded of the death that was around me transformed to life; I see again the birds of the air and the flowers of the field whose vitality and beauty are as nothing in comparison to the grace I have received by the same Creator. I feel the wind of inspiration fill the upper-room of my spirit with encouragement and strength to endure. This is sufficient for me; I am able to finish the course and rest.
“…there was given to me a sting of my flesh, an angel of Satan, to buffet me. … I besought the Lord that it might depart from me. And He said to me: ‘My grace is sufficient for thee: for power is made perfect in infirmity.’ Gladly, therefore, will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me.”
Amen.
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