Strength Training

I love cycling! I just started a few years ago and thoroughly enjoy it. I have been able to meet an eclectic group of fellow cyclists, make some new friends, see parts of my state I would otherwise over-look, and witness in small ways about my faith in Christ. A lot of issues have been worked on and prayed for while out riding in the country. I really enjoy riding in local charity events and end my “season” with completing a 150 mile ride to bring awareness and raise funds for Multiple Sclerosis.

There are numerous hills dispersed throughout my corner of the state in Missouri. Oh, I love going down them, but climbing back up is a whole other issue. Often, I just want to unclip my shoes, get off the bike, and walk up. But, I don’t (okay…well maybe a few times). Instead, I huff and puff my way up these “Ozarkian” hills.

The bike is not to blame. It doesn’t change. The suffering of the ride really has nothing to do with the bike, but instead, my lack of focus, determination, and training….oh yeah….and those darn hills. I am now realizing that perhaps my cycling journeys represent my walk with Christ.

I’ve found that when being challenged by a major hill that feels more like a mountain, I’ve struggled with the instinct to just keep my focus on the Lord. It can be hard to stay determined to make it up that mountain. I have wanted to do it all on my own and not allow the Lord to help me up it. Then there are those times when life is good and I’m just flying along. I fail to notice or acknowledge sometimes the One who gives me those moments where I am carefree, content, and not having to work very hard.

Like cycling, I think that walking with the Lord takes practice. Let me explain a little further. Before I fully committed myself to the Lord, I did not realize how important it was to stay active in faith. I just assumed that I could be “immobile” and the Lord would take care of it all. I did not pray that often, barely cracked open my bible, and never went to church.

Through the past 12 years since I have surrendered it all to Him, I have learned that being active in my faith requires daily “training”. Prayer, acknowledging His good works in my day-to-day life, trusting Him daily, reading the Word, tithing, being active in church, serving others….the training regiment goes on and on. I do not want to be a lukewarm, out-of-shape Christian.

When I am out on my bike and really feeling every muscle in my legs burn, I start to recite to myself “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

If I look up the road and see what seems like a monster of a hill coming, I recite “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

If nearing the end of a long ride and I am just worn out, I tell myself “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

Just like training rides build up my strength and endurance, my daily walk, or run for that matter, with the Lord builds up my strength to face the mountains in life. Christ strengthens, Christ builds up, Christ refines, and Christ declares the victory.

Room 452

Room 452 is where my life lay in the balance back in 1983. The beeps of machines and buzz of nurses and doctors scurrying in and out of this room were a stark contrast to the isolating existence of being stowed away in the hospital. In this room, prayers were said, tears were shed, lives were changed, and courage was shown. In this room, a miracle occurred – the miracle of my life being brought back from the thin edge of death.

My mom kept every note, card, picture, and letter sent to me while in the hospital struggling to survive the ravenous bacteria that had already killed my uterus, right Fallopian tube, and right ovary before the doctors discovered it. It was working its way to my bladder and throughout my abdomen when found….just in the nick of time. Looking through these mementos of that fragile time makes me realize how very fortunate I am.

Of course, I am extremely blessed to be sitting here typing my story. I am also even more encouraged by the faithful loving Father who gifted me with the adoption of my children despite the barrenness that entered my life. But, I am not talking about these things when realizing how fortunate I am. I am talking about the kindness, encouragement, generosity, compassion, and faith-driven prayers that were lifted up to our Father in Heaven in room 452.

The notes from my schoolmates were all very sweet and humorous. They still show the type of innocence that made up typical eleven and twelve-year-old’s back in 1983. Their wishes for a speedy recovery and for me to get back to school to play paled in comparison to how desperately ill I really was. While I enjoy glancing through these scribbled and colorful letters, I find myself most moved by the cards and notes from adults.

Several of the cards and notes were from adults with-whom I had never met. They were friends of my parents, friends of my extended family, and other adults who had become aware of a girl whose life had just been turned upside down. These loving letters were sent to lift my spirits while they lifted me up to the Lord.

Years ago the wife of the doctor who performed my surgery disclosed that she led a small prayer vigil in her home that fateful night in 1983 when her husband had to perform one of the most difficult tasks in his medical career and adult life. Again, there was a group of adult strangers tucked away pleading with the Lord to bring me through the surgery and for complete healing. It blessed me immensely to hear she this. I know the surgery greatly affected her husband as well. He will always be one of my “angels on Earth”.

I do believe that prayer is quite simply one of the most authentic ways that Christians can express their beliefs in a loving, powerful God. It is a mighty powerful thing, and I believe that the Lord listened to the cries of those who loved me during those days and nights while I fought to survive. It continues to make an incredible impression on me twenty-nine years later when coming across prayerful messages jotted down and sent to me during that time.

My life was forever changed in room 452. My life was greatly impacted by my name being whispered to Heaven by the lips of adults. As an adult now, I hope that I do not fail in lifting up children to the Lord.

In a world where it seems that children are the last things on politicians, leaders, and adults minds, we need to commit ourselves to being mindful of their futures. We need to pray for this generation of young ones growing up in a fast pace, quick fix, and digital world. Children need this now more than ever.

I wonder how many lives could be changed if Christians remembered to pray with purpose and passion for youth of this world. It matters to people to know they are being prayed for. There may not be a room 452 where a child needs prayer. It could be in a hut, one room apartment, mansion, or even a street. Will you commit yourself to lifting up children to the Lord? You never know what kind of eternal impact can be made in the life of just one child in need.

Philippians 4:6-7

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.