Over the last three months, I have felt the Lord’s invitation to slow down and push less. I feel like this down time was supposed to be free space for me, but it never really felt like that. It felt hard – like extreme effort and discipline.

That brings to mind a memory from high school sports: isometric exercises. A quick search provides a basic definition: isometric exercises involve “the static contraction of a muscle without any visible movement in the angle of the joint.”

In other words, it’s a ton of effort, but with no action or movement as evidence of the work.

Maybe that would explain why I’m so tired even though, from my perspective, I haven’t been doing much of anything.

I asked Google, “What is the benefit of an isometric exercise?”

One result: “Isometric exercises are proven to help build muscle, strength, balance and range of motion. Other isometric exercise benefits include stress reduction, improved mental health, and injury avoidance.”

Another result: “You can get great muscle activation from simply holding a static position. They’re called isometric exercises, and they’re great for improving your strength, flexibility, balance, and mental fortitude, too!”

Do you mean to tell me that during this time, when I thought I was sidelined, benched, “taking a break,” I’ve actually been exercising?

Keeping still when you long to move is no small feat. (Imagine a wall squat.) It takes discipline; and it is hard work. No wonder my legs have been shaking!

As my physical therapist mentioned at my appointment last week, “We’re working endurance, so when you get tired, you don’t compensate.”

I sense a nod from Jesus. We’re working endurance.

As a sprinter and a HIIT trainer, I’m a big fan of hitting it hard and moving on. This endurance work is for the birds!

Endurance is a biblical word, though, isn’t it? I Google, “endurance Bible.”

Ah, I should have known. It’s from Romans 5:

Suffering. I would have never told you that this slowness I’ve been living is suffering. Most people I know are crazy busy and pulled in a million directions and exhausted—not to mention the people I know are dealing with horrible life situations and hardships.

And I’m exhausted from being still.

To be fair, even I don’t think I’ve been living any real version of “suffering.” Even so, I am struggling.

Is it possible that “suffering” is a broader term than I’ve been led to believe?

Hey Google, what is the definition of suffering?

“It’s the state of undergoing pain, distress, or hardship.”

Hmm… maybe any form of self-discipline can be a type of suffering. That means suffering is not something to be avoided at all costs. If we are supposed to skip suffering, why would we ever try to make ourselves do something hard?

Sure, I don’t want to walk myself into a trauma situation; but maybe I would deny myself a present pleasure for the sake of a mid-term gain. Could that count as suffering, too?

  • Don’t eat a snack right now, because dinner is almost ready.
    (Suffer my hunger.)
  • Don’t scream at my spouse, even though I’m justifiably angry.
    (Suffer my anger.)
  • Go for a walk when I’d rather sit on the couch.
    (Suffer my discomfort.)

“Suffering produces endurance.” I can be hungry a little longer. I can be angry and not lose it. I can do something good for myself instead of taking the path of least resistance. I can make an effort to delay giving in to what feels easiest.

“Endurance produces character.” Ah, character. We love being around people who have character. They are people who can control themselves, who are trustworthy, and who don’t run all over people with their whims and desires. They are pleasant human beings who put people at ease.

But who wants to do the work of becoming a person of character? Ugh. That requires enduring, which also requires pain. In other words, the work of becoming a person of character requires intentionally staying in a place of hardship, even though we want it to stop more than anything in the world.

“Endurance produces character, and character produces hope.” When we’re not tossed around or pulled by every whim or desire, we’ve developed some character. Once we have this character (less driven by our passions), we have the beginnings of what it takes for hope to begin to form. But it’s work.

In my PT appointments, we’ve been working on stability. Basically, I use one leg to balance on an unstable surface while catching and throwing a ball. Stability is not found by sitting in an easy chair. Stability is found by throwing instability at you until you gain the strength to stand in it.

In the process of building stability, you fall a lot. (Trust me; I know.) Yet even as I struggle, and fail, and fall, I can tell that I’m gaining strength. Occasionally, I hold a stable posture a little longer before I fall.

“Character produces hope, and hope doesn’t put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

My PT coach keeps telling me what a good job I’m doing. I usually have to take his word for it, because it’s not obvious to me. But there are moments when I catch a glimpse of the progress I’m making, and I suspect the struggle won’t all be for nothing.

Similarly, there are moments in my current life struggles when I catch a glimpse of the loving-kindness of the Lord in the difficult process I’m in. I see the gift of the discipline and the time and the effort—even the value of exposing my weaknesses, where it mostly looked (and felt) like I was failing.

I see the face of Jesus, who is not disappointed in my shaky legs, my desire to quit the exercise, my frustration, or even my complaint in the process. My friend knows it’s a challenge.

Jesus also knows what this struggle will yield: hope and love and an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. (See Romans 5:5). I want these things.

Jesus patiently endures this difficulty right alongside me. Struggle is not the only thing he has for me. You don’t spend your entire life in the gym; and I won’t always be stuck in spiritual isometrics. Eventually, there are races to be run and events to compete in. (Thank goodness!)

This discomfort, pain, struggle, hardship, annoyance, suffering is temporary—absolutely! No matter how long it’s been happening, it must at some point come to an end. And the way I have been strengthened by the unique aspects of the current challenge will serve me well.

Dear Father,
will you please give me strength,
courage, and the help I need
to endure the current hardship
until you make a way out of it.

Thank you that you love me
and are proud to call me your own,
no matter how ugly this process looks.

Thank you that I’m getting stronger,
whether that’s obvious to me or not.
Thank you that there will be a day
when I see more clearly
and am able to celebrate.

Until then, I give you my best effort at trust,
because I know you are good.
Please help my friends who are also enduring.
In the name of Jesus. Amen.


This blog was also posted on the Next Step Community. You can find it here amid other articles by like-minded authors.

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