Four more days and I'll be back in Riga.
On a purely practical level, I'm looking forward to getting reacquainted with the rest of my wardrobe, especially my fall and winter collection.¹ Having been living out of a suitcase since late July, the majority of clothes I packed are of the distinctly warm-weather variety. I'm wearing one of my only two sweaters I managed to bring along; the other is in the wash. Thankfully the weather in southern England never gets what I'd call properly cold,² even in the dead of winter, but it will be nice to reintroduce some warmer elements into my clothing repertoire.
The running target is still within reach. By the end of today I should be just past two hundred and ninety miles, which would leave a seemingly achievable twenty miles left to run over the next three days. I'll admit, as much as I enjoy a challenge, I'll be ready to take a couple days off from running once this is done. I've managed to fit in one light-to-no-running day per week, just to give the body some time to rest and recover, but it'd be nice to wake up in the morning, see the thermometer uncomfortable close to 0˚ C with rain pouring down, and think to myself "not today" for a change.
When I started this bizarre "run across Latvia" challenge, I wasn't entirely sure why I was doing it. It seemed like an adventure, an engaging way to pass the time before returning to Latvia, and a challenge to test myself against. It's been all of that, but I think that God's been using it as a backdrop for some larger lessons that I've been re-learning.
I have a complicated relationship with spiritual discipline. Once I begin to integrate a discipline into my life, I find myself swiftly veering towards internal motivators like rote and duty instead of obedience and joy. Not necessarily a reason to automatically abandon any discipline, but a cause for concern nonetheless.
Over the past couple of years, the Lord has been stripping away many disciplines that had ceased to be that; they had instead transformed into spiritual crutches, enabling me to prop myself up but not bringing about any real or significant momentum. The removal process has been painful. As much as I love being free, flexible and spontaneous, I also relish having some useful foundational material with which to structure my life. But operating out of obligation instead of obedience is not sustainable long-term.
Hence the need for incisive therapy.
Stepping out of discipline for a time is a painful process. Stepping back into it can be equally trying.
As I've practiced physical discipline this past month, there's been an unmistakable stirring in my spirit, a still small voice whispering the word
"return"
And so as I run, I also begin the long, slow walk back into a more disciplined approach to my spiritual life.³ It's early miles yet, so the legs are stiff and the will is uncertain about this endeavour. But the road is familiar, the wind is behind, and there is both present and future joy to be found amidst the painfully awkward attempts to kickstart this long slow walk towards Jesus.
¹It's not exactly as if I have the worlds most extensive clothing collection to begin with. But wearing the same subset of my already limited assets has been growing slightly tiresome, even for a notorious black-tshirt-and-jeans kind of dresser like myself. #firstworldproblems, I know, I know.
²Does my snot freeze to my nose when I step outside? No? Then it's not really cold.
³I hope I don't give the impression that my life has been completely devoid of any of the traditional spiritual disciplines as of late. Not that I particularly care what impression I give, but I also don't want to mislead. It's more that my spiritual life has gone from being characterized solely by discipline to swinging towards a less-structured and more open approach, and now the pendulum is swinging back towards the middle where - hopefully - it'll come to rest in some sort of sustainable equilibrium. And if that makes zero sense and sounds like a vague sort of excuse for not reading my Bible every single day, you're probably right.
On a purely practical level, I'm looking forward to getting reacquainted with the rest of my wardrobe, especially my fall and winter collection.¹ Having been living out of a suitcase since late July, the majority of clothes I packed are of the distinctly warm-weather variety. I'm wearing one of my only two sweaters I managed to bring along; the other is in the wash. Thankfully the weather in southern England never gets what I'd call properly cold,² even in the dead of winter, but it will be nice to reintroduce some warmer elements into my clothing repertoire.
The running target is still within reach. By the end of today I should be just past two hundred and ninety miles, which would leave a seemingly achievable twenty miles left to run over the next three days. I'll admit, as much as I enjoy a challenge, I'll be ready to take a couple days off from running once this is done. I've managed to fit in one light-to-no-running day per week, just to give the body some time to rest and recover, but it'd be nice to wake up in the morning, see the thermometer uncomfortable close to 0˚ C with rain pouring down, and think to myself "not today" for a change.
When I started this bizarre "run across Latvia" challenge, I wasn't entirely sure why I was doing it. It seemed like an adventure, an engaging way to pass the time before returning to Latvia, and a challenge to test myself against. It's been all of that, but I think that God's been using it as a backdrop for some larger lessons that I've been re-learning.
I have a complicated relationship with spiritual discipline. Once I begin to integrate a discipline into my life, I find myself swiftly veering towards internal motivators like rote and duty instead of obedience and joy. Not necessarily a reason to automatically abandon any discipline, but a cause for concern nonetheless.
Over the past couple of years, the Lord has been stripping away many disciplines that had ceased to be that; they had instead transformed into spiritual crutches, enabling me to prop myself up but not bringing about any real or significant momentum. The removal process has been painful. As much as I love being free, flexible and spontaneous, I also relish having some useful foundational material with which to structure my life. But operating out of obligation instead of obedience is not sustainable long-term.
Hence the need for incisive therapy.
Stepping out of discipline for a time is a painful process. Stepping back into it can be equally trying.
As I've practiced physical discipline this past month, there's been an unmistakable stirring in my spirit, a still small voice whispering the word
"return"
And so as I run, I also begin the long, slow walk back into a more disciplined approach to my spiritual life.³ It's early miles yet, so the legs are stiff and the will is uncertain about this endeavour. But the road is familiar, the wind is behind, and there is both present and future joy to be found amidst the painfully awkward attempts to kickstart this long slow walk towards Jesus.
¹It's not exactly as if I have the worlds most extensive clothing collection to begin with. But wearing the same subset of my already limited assets has been growing slightly tiresome, even for a notorious black-tshirt-and-jeans kind of dresser like myself. #firstworldproblems, I know, I know.
²Does my snot freeze to my nose when I step outside? No? Then it's not really cold.
³I hope I don't give the impression that my life has been completely devoid of any of the traditional spiritual disciplines as of late. Not that I particularly care what impression I give, but I also don't want to mislead. It's more that my spiritual life has gone from being characterized solely by discipline to swinging towards a less-structured and more open approach, and now the pendulum is swinging back towards the middle where - hopefully - it'll come to rest in some sort of sustainable equilibrium. And if that makes zero sense and sounds like a vague sort of excuse for not reading my Bible every single day, you're probably right.