this is harder than I thought

(alternate title: "reflections on my current running playlist")

The lyrics to one of the best songs on my playlist right now go like this:

"I am tired, I am drained

But the fight in me remains

I am weary, I am worn

Like I've never been before

… This is harder than I thought

Harder than I thought it'd be

Harder than I thought

Takin' every part of me

Harder than I thought

So much harder than I thought it'd be

But empty's never felt so full"

Perfect words for halfway through a half-marathon; also totally relevant to absolutely any activity that requires extensive mental strength (including, but not limited to, folding bottomless laundry baskets, pre-teen parenting, launching a small business out into the world, responding kindly to the endless "Mom!" needs, and even bearing gently the burdens of others).

It's mental strength that we need the most for the things that we are getting up and doing every single day, and it's mental strength that is most at-risk in a world that suggests everything is either instant or optional.

In early adulthood, I had some formative experiences after which I commented to others - "I think that I would have done that better if I had just known it was going to be hard". When we go into something with unprepared hearts or minds, we often walk away defeated, because truly our mental capacity is our greatest limitation. If we believed it was only going to take a certain amount of effort, or growth, or change, or humility, and it ended up taking a lot more - it's likely that we would have approached it with the wrong amount of weight, and it's likely that in the absence of sufficient weight, we would walk away with a great feeling of lost potential. We have to know - this that we're called to do - whatever "this" is - it will be harder than we think.

The actual "this" in the song I'm quoting is LOVE. The lyrics go on:

"… This is what love (this is what love)

This is what love

Feels like

This is what love (this is what love)

This is what love

Feels like

Poured out, used up, still givin'

Stretching me out to the end of my limits

This is what love (this is what love)

This is what real love

Feels like

This is what love feels like poured out

Used up still willin' to fight for it

This is what love feels like

Yeah, this is what it feels like"

Are we, am I, leaving room in our lives for the weight of love? Love is harder than we will think it will be, it stretches us beyond what we can imagine, and requires all of us. Love absolutely drains us.

This is why ministry is such hard work. It's why bearing the burdens of others often feels heavy. It's why raising children empties us; why our bodies deteriorate while theirs begin to bloom and blossom and flourish and multiply. It is harder than we think it will be to empty ourselves so that others can grow and so the glory of God can be revealed.

We read in church yesterday morning Nehemiah 4 and Galatians 6. It was halfway through the project of building the wall that Judah said, "The strength of the bearers of burdens is decayed, and there is much rubbish; so that we are not able to build the wall." When I, as a bearer of burdens - some of my own, and some of other people's - find my strength decayed - what can I do? Where do I turn? How do I respond? It's tempting to try to simplify our own lives by deciding that something is "not our problem" or not worth doing or not necessary or any other form of "not". But Galatians 6 literally says, "Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." So we cannot pretend that the things that come to us are simply "not our problem".

Galatians 6 does not let any of us off the hook - it simultaneously calls us to bear our own burdens and it also speaks strongly against the pride that tends to drive us to either disassociate with certain needs of others, or to assume we are pertinent to a certain need when perhaps we aren't - "For if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself. But let every man prove his own work, and then shall he have rejoicing in himself alone, and not in another. For every man shall bear his own burden."

But it does end with mandates to action and assurances that the laws of sowing and reaping that the world would like us to forget, do still apply: "Let him that is taught in the word communicate unto him that teacheth in all good things. Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not."

What we are called to do will be harder than we think, but it will not be in vain.

Another song on my playlist goes like this:

"In the valley of the shadow

I got a feeling it's the season that'll make me grow

I'm still breathing, I got praise in my lungs

And a choir in my soul

Can't steal my joy

Can't steal my joy

What the world couldn't give, no, it can't take away

Sorrow may come but it can't

Steal my joy

Can't steal my joy

In the high highs, in the low lows

You fill my cup, You fill it up until it overflows

I remember, I'll keep holding on to hope

'Cause you're the King of rolling stones

Can't steal my joy (can't steal my)

Can't steal my joy, no, no, no, no

What the world couldn't give, no, it can't take away

Sorrow may come but it can't

Steal my joy, no, no, no, no"

We know the valleys as the times that will grow us. And we know emptiness as the only way that we can truly become full.

We are all looking around for a quick path to legacy; the easiest route to become essential, unforgettable, and valued. But we discussed recently in our Bible study group that our legacy is what we are actually doing in the everyday. It is not our aspirations but our actual living that truly marks how we ran the race.

I've heard it said before that you shouldn't tell people what you're going to do until after it's done; especially in current culture I think this is incredibly valuable advice. Neurologically, saying what we're going to do delivers all of the dopamine too early - we get the praise and the encouragement before we've even halfway started, and our motivation and mental strength fizzles long before the process has had its perfect work. AI has only expedited this tragedy, and the result will not be more fulfillment but rather a great loss of endurance in every sense of the word. Legacy is built by what we are presently living - in this moment, right now. It's harder than we thought it would be. But empty never felt so full.

(Songs - "Love Feels Like" by TobyMac and "Can't Steal My Joy" by Josiah Queen)