Be Still

Be still and know that I am God

                               Psalm 46:10

Sometimes it's hard to hear the still small voice of the Spirit when your head is clamoring with a cacophonous din of worries and memories and random thoughts and tasks that haven't been done yet and I guess I can do that tomorrow and uh-oh, I forgot to do the other thing and I can't believe my boss really said that, and I wish I'd told him...

In Ephesians 4:3 we're told to make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. But if you're like me, sometimes the greatest peace-killer is the noise in our own heads.

To me, this is probably the greatest benefit of physical exercise: it shuts off the chatterbox in my brain, making room for the Holy Spirit. There is substantial research evidence that physical exercise improves brain health and brain function and decreases depression and anxiety - particularly exercise in "green space."

I remember one particular day last Winter, when I went running with my fitness group on a day nobody would choose as a perfect day for a trail run. There was over 8 inches of snow on the ground and the temperature wasn't going to be above 20 degrees at any time. But after several snow days, seeing way too much walled space and breathing recycled air, there was just something euphoric about moving through the trees, listening to the silence of crunching snow underfoot and breathing fresh air, feeling the sunshine on my face and retinas.

The next day, we were studying Genesis in Sunday school and had one of those Obvious Ah-Ha moments, finally noticing how many times it says in Genesis "...and God saw that it was good" (Genesis 1:10, 12, 18, 21, 25). Okay, once... twice... could be a coincidence; three times, maybe it's just a minor point. But when God tells us no less than five times in 15 verses in the very first chapter of the Bible that the natural world is good, there's probably something to that. Kind of seems like He's wanting to make sure we don't miss something important.

Earth, water, air sunshine... these things are good. God made them for us. And He made our brains so that they work demonstrably better, the more and more intensely we're exposed to these things - especially when we're actively exposed to them.

Swimming, moving through the water, breathing rhythmically is an exercise that never fails to reboot my brain; to make me still inside my head and usher in the presence of the Holy Spirit. Any day I swim is a better day for it. And pretty soon now, my YMCA branch will be opening the outdoor pool which means early morning swims that begin in darkness and end in sunshine; passing through the colors of dawn on the way.

I have a feeling it is going to be good.

Comfort Zone II

Exercise, fitness building, and weight loss are always going to involve stepping outside of our natural comfort zone. We already know the results when we consistently choose what is most comfortable: deconditioning, weight gain, lack of growth. Whenever we're on a growth path - a path that leads us to different results - there is going to be discomfort involved.

 However, we can get to a place where we start to feel "comfortable with discomfort."

I remember when I first got into swimming. For much of my time in the water, I was extremely distressed about exertion and oxygen; wanting to take a breath right away, but having to wait for the next breathing point in the swim stroke (otherwise I'd just get an airway full of water, which didn't exactly help). That feeling of "I want a breath, but I can't take one right now; I'll have to wait" is very uncomfortable on a very primal level. Your body is hollering for oxygen, and you're trying to say "Wait; not yet."

The first time I experienced that discomfort was almost 5 years ago. Hundreds of swim practices, hundreds of thousands of yards, 8 triathlons, and two swim meets. And still, this morning, when I went to swim practice I spent most of the hour in a state of primal discomfort because I wanted to be breathing more than I was.

There's a huge difference between this morning and five years ago, though: five years ago, that oxygen-deprived discomfort was distressing. Now, I've learned to be okay with it. Say it with me: "My body is screaming for oxygen. And I'm okay with that."

There are huge benefits to stretching our comfort zones in this way. For one thing, routine daily activities will be at the "extreme comfort" part of the comfort zone - everyday, minute-by-minute life will start to feel very, very comfortable indeed.

Also, we start to find that other kinds of uncomfortable situations - such as a dreaded meeting with the boss, or confronting the kids about a behavior they need to change, or negotiating a compromise with the beloved but differing-opinion spouse - are much less distressing than they used to be... precisely because we have learned to be more comfortable in uncomfortable situations.

Finally, the biggest reason to do this: if we don't constantly work to expand our comfort zones, their natural tendency is to contract. Today, I'm comfortable sitting in this chair eating pie. After a while, I start to get picky about the pie: this one has too much cinnamon, this one doesn't have that perfect flaky crust, I don't like cherry unless I can have ice cream with it. Then at some point I'm going to find that this chair isn't optimally comfortable: wouldn't I be more comfortable on the couch? And you know, it's kind of a hassle to get up and have to go get my own pie: I need someone who will bring it to me. And wash the plate afterward. Follow this track long enough, and I'm 700 pounds, needing a crane to get out of the house.

The comfort zone is always either expanding or contracting. When the comfort zone gets small, life gets constricted. Eventually the comfort zone becomes a prison. Let's don't allow that to happen. Let's keep stretching our comfort zones.