week 6 lent readings, 2020

Back in the olden days, when I worked out at a gym, socially intimate with other athletes, I would occasionally use the elliptical machine, or strider, instead of the treadmill. My dad taught me to love running when I was in high school. He would drag me out along the country roads I knew so well, and soon I knew what to expect from every step. I could anticipate exactly when I would think, “Must stop! Can’t breathe!”, or when I would think, “I am an Olympian! So strong, I could run for days.” Dad taught me to push through the hard, to enjoy the good, and, always, to look around and notice what there was to see.

I know running. I know what it feels like to push it and what it means to take it easy. In the gym, people who use the strider look like they are having more fun than runners.  I know nothing about striding, and each time I try it I do so thinking it will be an easier way to elevate my heart rate than running. I mean, you can’t even really do it without bouncing! Bouncing is fun, right? 

Here is what the strider teaches me every time I climb on though: I don’t know how to do it. I have yet to fall off, but I never find my rhythm. The strider’s motions are wholly foreign to me, and spending 30 minutes on the machine always turns into 30 minutes of frustration. Because it is so unfamiliar, I have no idea what it feels like to push myself, and I can’t figure out what “hard” is. I typically start thinking how fun and weird it is to bounce along while also “working out.” Soon, though, I get disoriented. What am I doing? Am I sweating? Should I make it harder to push the pedals or just move faster? How do other people look when they know what they’re doing? How do I know I’m doing it right? What is this supposed to feel like?

We are living in a disorienting time. I call it the Age of the Strider. It is wholly unfamiliar to maintain an isolated state. It is wholly unfamiliar to stay home, with no agency to go and do when needs arise. It is wholly unfamiliar to be around children or roommates or partners every relentless minute of the day. It is wholly unfamiliar to either have no work or to be swamped in new, alienating work. It is wholly unfamiliar to have no idea if you can hang onto your job or home in the weeks ahead.  It is wholly unfamiliar to feel powerless. Many of us can’t find our rhythm. We keep reflecting inward, trying to figure out what feels refreshing, what feels hard, what feels right. It is all so different though that many of us don’t know how to anticipate what comes our way. 

While I don’t have any answers, I find it helpful to name that the Age of the Strider is disorienting. It’s unfamiliar. But it won’t always feel this way. If you find yourself off balance, searching for what healthy is even supposed to feel like, know that you aren’t alone. As we surrender to these moments of distance and isolation, we will find a groove that works. We will find generosity for the people who currently hover around us.* We will find the capacity to extend compassion when we recognize a person we live with is not doing super well. We will remember to lift our eyes to those around us, searching for who needs what, and how we can help. We will begin to trust our bodies and spirits, as we recognize what restores, what stretches, what feels easy, what feels hard, and how long it lasts.

Running used to be mostly miserable, not just because it was hard, but because it was unfamiliar. While I don’t always love it now, I find comfort in knowing what to expect. Every day in the Age of the Strider offers us countless moments to pay attention, to find our bearings, to lean in and learn as we acclimate to this new reality. As my Dad taught me: Push through the hard, enjoy the good, and, always, look around and notice what there is to see. We are adjusting and learning and growing more than we realize. Make the effort to contextualize your feelings of unfamiliarity with a growing sense of surrender, of expectation, of contentedness and of familiarity.

* During the writing of this essay, my 5 year old, touching me incessantly, told me she “likes my squishy parts,” and then reassured me that I was turning into a Grandma. Meanwhile, at one point, (despite the fact that I started working first), 3 other people started conferences calls or school videos, voices blaring within earshot of me. Unfamiliar is one word for it. Soul killingly frustrating is another. Still, there is comfort and capacity in learning how to ride this strider…

LENT READINGS WEEK 6

To Ponder:

“The future orientation of Christian time reminds us that we are people on the way. It allows us to live in the present as an alternative people, patiently waiting for what is to come, but never giving up on our telos. We are never quite comfortable. We seek justice, practice mercy, and herald the kingdom to come.”                    -Tish Harrison Warren

 “We spend too much time trying to fix the things we don’t like rather than simply reconciling everything to God….But I’ve come to understand that true justice is wrapped up in love…God’s love and justice come together in the redemptive work of Jesus Christ, and we can’t be about one and not the other. They’re inextricably connected.”                                                                                                                                -John Perkins

To Read:

Apr 1 Ps 9:7-14; 17:6-11

Apr 2 Ps 3:1-5; 21:3

Apr 3 Micah 7:18-20

Apr 4 Ps 28:1-2; 40:1-11

Apr 5 Matthew 5:1-12

Apr 6 Ps 102:1-4

Apr 7 Isaiah 54:1-8