The Beating of Your Life

OK, well, I should probably be in bed, but tomorrow's a Saturday and I don't have to get up at all if I don't feel like it (OK, that's a slight exaggeration), and I'm still trying to clear my brain from today. So I figured I'd give ya'll a blog post on this the First Day of the Month of Decembre in Anno Domini Two Zero Zero Seven. Since some of you have been loudly demanding it for a while.

This has been absolutely the craziest week ever. At least a nominee for the title, anyway. It's been way down, it's been way up, it's been invigorating, numbing, energizing, tiring, sad, happy, torturous, fun. Sorry, I like to use series of adjectives like that; someday I'll do that in some great book, I'm sure, but till then you'll have to cope with me doing it multiple times.

Sometimes I just wish life would go away for a while and leave me alone. Just for a little while. Not the people in my life, of course, no -- there wouldn't be much point in being all alone, without my family or my church or my Lana or anyone there.

I'm beginning to realize that this is what happens when you grow up. It's not that you necessarily become any less of a kid, though you certainly have to become a lot more of an adult. But the grind of life hits you and it never stops. It rolls right over you and keeps coming. It never stops. It picks you up off the ground so it can throw you down again. It never stops.

Even when it does go away for a while, it's still there. You can't escape it forever. At best you get brief respites. But it won't really go away. It doesn't go away on Saturday. It doesn't go away on your honeymoon. It doesn't go away on vacation. It just allows you to forget about it for a little while.

And then it's back full force, smacking you in the face, daring you to look it in the eye. 7:30, buddy boy, time to get up. Long day ahead of you. You groan like an overmatched boxer and stagger up for another round; the knockout hasn't ended the match.

On and on you go, as days turn into years. Your body starts to break down. You're too tired to cry at the pain anymore. Bam! An uppercut across the chest. Then another. And another. And another.

You sink to the ground, eyes open and blood-filled, vacant. You wait to be picked up again for more pummeling. You want to die.

And then you do.

The blood clears your eyes in a flash; you rise up without thinking about it; the crowd begins to cheer. You look down and see your enemy lying fallen to the floor. You don't know how he got there. He glares up at you, powerless.

Then the Referee strides to your side; He grabs your hand and thrusts it aloft in His own. Without looking at His hand, you can feel the hole in it.

You fall down again as the crowd cascades cheers. The laurel drops off your head and rests at His feet. You look up and He's smiling, puts His wounded hands on your shoulders. He doesn't have to say anything.

And suddenly it hits you in a flash. You search His eyes in wonderment. His smile broadens as He nods. The crowd becomes deafening.

You were winning all along.


Like all portrayals of life that we humans can concoct, this one's skewed, and that's intentional. The boxing match analogy falls pretty far short in some areas. Life isn't all just one big beating. There's magnificent joy, not just exhausted tears; great victories, not just crushing defeats. The abundant life, the one that He gives us, that dwells inside us, that bursts forth like the dawn, runs counter to the life that we fight everyday. And it triumphs over it.

But the life that we live, threescore and ten years or however long it may be, is nothing. One day we will open our eyes and it will be gone. Forever.

The crowd will erupt and we will see the Savior's face. We will have escaped, not because we found a way out, but because Someone took the keys and threw the doors open.

We will step into the life that is true life. And we won't ever want a break from it. We won't ever get tired of it. We won't ever pound our head against the wall hoping the headache will somehow go away.

There will be no more headache.

And we will live forever with Him, you and me and the hosts of the redeemed. We'll celebrate the victory of the match, and worship the Winner.

And He will praise us, because He has made us winners too.