November 9: A lesson from swim meets: no false starts

Ezekiel 20:1-49

Hebrews 9:11-28

Psalm 107:1-43

Proverbs 27:11

"Some sat in darkness, in utter darkness,

   prisoners suffering in iron chains,

 because they rebelled against Gods commands

   and despised the plans of the Most High.

 So He subjected them to bitter labor;

   they stumbled, and there was no one to help.

 Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,

   and He saved them from their distress."

- Ps 107:10-14

When someone is in utter darkness, do they know where they are?  Probably not.  The prisoner in this instance, all he probably knew was he was bound, unable to free himself from the chains he could not even see.  

I've found myself in that situation - trapped by my circumstances, seeking progress I am decreasingly able to achieve, longing for something I do not know, unable to pursue it for reasons I do not understand.

Weekdays I get up, and as I have for most of the last 13 years, catch the 5:55 train to New York City, where my work day begins at 7AM . I catch the 5:30 train home and, some nights, pick up Christian from swim practice and head home for dinner, then hopefully a workout before maybe another hour of work and bedtime at 11, exhausted at the day and at the prospect of having to do it all again 6 hours later.

Weekends I get to sleep in a bit later; I get up around 6 am or so, but still immediately feel the need to rush off.  I try to make breakfast for the family, then the kids have their activities.  Till recently, Sophia typically had volleyball practice at 9:30 AM; Christian has swim practice from 10-12 (I try to get a workout in at the same time), and Thomas has tennis from 2:30-3:30.  There are chores and errands - the grocery, the cleaners, the laundry, the ironing...and I find myself at the end of Saturday typically exhausted, cranky, and wondering how my day felt both so exhausting and so futile.  

For the longest time, this life was increasingly a struggle, for reasons I could not understand.  It was the bitter labor God was permitting me, because I did these things because I chose to, not because I had submitted to Him and this was what He wanted me to do.  And so I sat in the darkness of utter certainty that the desire to provide a good life for one's family was the paramount goal, not knowing that, by refusing to consult with Him, I was rejecting His plans for me and for my family, bound to a life of struggle by the chains of my good intentions.

Not all days are bad, though - in fact, an increasing number of them are really good.  What makes the difference?  I find that the days I choose to start with prayer and scripture may contain exactly the same things, but they go so much more smoothly, so much more contentedly.  Perhaps it is because, on days I start with God, He has the opportunity to tell me the ways I should go.  Those are the days I start crying out to Him in my worry, and He saves me from my distress.

How different are the days you start with God from the days you don't?