Back to the Basics

Have you ever known that God was trying to communicate something to you, but you try to brush it off, telling yourself that you're just over-analyzing or misinterpreting (probably because it's something that, deep down, you know you need to hear and heed, but it's going to require effort and work and dedication, and you just really don't feel like committing all that right now)? But God doesn't let up, and keeps placing you in circumstances that come back to that same lesson again and again? No matter how much you try to ignore that nagging lesson or reminder or challenge (whatever word you need to use that makes you feel slightly better about it), day after day, it is staring you in the face?

This past week has been that for me - a message from God staring me in the face over and over, showing up in a multitude of ways, in various aspects of my life, until I finally gave in (or at least, recognize that I need to try to give in). I should have responded to the big flashing sign message on the first shot - probably could've saved myself some frustration. But if you know me, one thing you probably became aware of after the first few days (ok, maybe minutes) of being in my presence is that I am stubborn. I blame it on my German side.

It started last weekend. It was just Louie and me at home, with no big events on the calendar, so we had a pretty quiet, low-key weekend. I came down with a pretty bad cold, so I think I slept more in two days than I have for the past two months (I am only slightly exaggerating). That was probably the first sign I ignored - my body (and God, if you will) telling me to slow down, to rest, to ease up on the gas a bit. While I did sleep, it wasn't because I was desiring to rest, but rather more trying to get better as quickly as possible so I could get back to the unbelievably long to-do list I possess that never seems to see any black lines through its content. Hind sight is always 20/20. I should have paid more attention to the need to care for my body, rest and sleep well before the sneezing, coughing and extreme exhaustion began.

Last weekend was also the start of a new physical challenge. Louie and I started to do Crossfit. We took our first three fundamentals classes last week, which are a pre-req of sorts before you can take a full-fledged class. Our first three classes, spaced throughout the week, while informative and interesting, were elementary - learning to do dead lifts and hang cleans, precise positioning for an overhead squat, basic stretches and plyometrics. More than a few times, I think we both felt this slight annoyance - we've both exercised before, Louie has done Crossfit before, I have fitness certifications - why did we need to go through all of this? Why can't we just jump into the sweat, blood and tears (literally... have you ever tried Crossfit?!) And more so, how is it that no matter what exercise we were focused on or what position we were trying to hold, neither of our forms was ever one-hundred percent correct? It was nearly 4 hours total of the basics - from where to place your feet to the position of your head and everything in between. At moments it felt redundant. At moments it felt unnecessary. At moments it was aggravating and frustrating - the trainer we worked with was so intent on explaining the movements, the connections between your nervous system and muscle movements, these biological and anatomical building blocks of Crossfit. Bottom line? It was totally necessary. Without having those basics down, we would be ill-prepared for the next level; we would lift weights incorrectly and come no where near the desired results - if anything, perhaps even doing harm and damage to our bodies. This forced return to the most fundamental of movements was one hundred per cent necessary, and in all honesty, we probably could have even used more than three sessions.    

Brother Mike came over for dinner on Monday, and in addition to some good food and conversation at the table, we shared prayer. He asked us to share the story of where our faith came from - for each of us, how did we get our faith? It was an opportunity to think about and reflect on the roots of our lives - where did we start, what were those big mile markers, and essentially where did this all start from? What were our fundamentals of faith?

Two nights ago, we decided to go on a "community run." (We've never done this before... and truthfully, I'm not sure where this initiative came from.) We went to a trail by our house, which Jen and I had never been to before, and dusk was about to fall as we all stretched a bit and then took off down the trail, into the woods. Now, if you are reading this and you have met me, beyond the whole stubborn piece, you also know that I have, unequivocally, unparalleled, the absolutely worst sense of direction. This probably wasn't the brightest move I could have ever made (because of course, I carried no phone with me. Obviously.).

I'm sure you can guess what happened. I got lost. I'm still not really sure how, but after about 18 minutes of running... as I should have been coming to the end of my 2.2 mile run, I was still running - my 2.2 mile run turned into a 4+ mile run, and I made it to our driveway, where I sat and (in additional to feeling badly that I knew Louie and Jen would be worried) waited for someone to come check if I had managed to make it home. Our neighbors were outside - doing nothing but hanging out, their little girl trying to fly a cardboard airplane while jumping around in the bed of their pickup. My thoughts wandered back to my time in Ecuador... when I constantly had to ask for directions (thereby engaging in relationship with strangers), when I never had a clue where I was going, where I didn't own a cell phone (or a land line phone, or a television, or a computer), where I spent countless hours on stoops, doing nothing but hanging out; where life was unbelievably simple in most material ways and unbelievably complex in most emotional and spiritual ways, offering constant glimpses of God's grace and beauty amidst a sometimes (oftentimes) very unjust and ugly world.
In addition to it being an unplanned community night at its finest, this experience was also, for me, an invitation to remember why I first came to love life in community and believe in it's power in the first place: God-centered relationships that focus on intentionality, the journey of faith and simplicity - learning, living, breathing, being in this profound understanding of how we affect, influence and impact one another through shared space, prayer, struggle, joy, and daily life. A chance to recall and bring to mind those very bare-bone, basic reasons why I believe in community, and community rooted in faith.

So this week has been a constant calling to return back to the basics (on all accounts): to rest and slow down and care for your body and health; to work on fundamental, functional motions from which all other movement happens; to return, once in a while, to those first steps of our faith journey and take a glance back to where we were and how we got to where we are; to engage in relationship with people I don't necessarily know, to disconnect from the demands of technology and constant contact and texting and talking, to fly some paper airplanes and sit on the stoop and do nothing but hang out; to believe in human interconnectedness and the value of journeying with others; to believe in the power of community.