The Joy of Discipline
After being up 24 hours straight, from early Tuesday to early Wednesday, I crashed a bit yesterday. Tuesday brough the Bayonet, a lengthy road march that is done that the end of a field training exercise, or FTX in Armyspeak. I got home Wednesday morning at 6:30 after 24 straight hours. Spent most of yesterday nursing the soreness that came with lugging 60-70 lbs of gear around for 8 hours the night before.
Enter Thursday. Thanks to some Tylenol PM, I am not as sore as Wednesday, but I am certainly not motivated to do anything, either. The more I sit around, the more I feel I have to do something. Finally, Japen enters and says, "Hey Chaplain, how about a run?" With that, we head out the door.
In the middle of the run, I ask myself," Why am I doing this?" I did more yesterday than some people will do all week, yet here I am just 24 hours later running again. If it were all up to me, I know that I would be in my office just working away. But something that seemed to be missing is found as my big feet patter down the pavement and Japen I talk about nothing more than which way to turn. The road has become familiar, a habit, a pattern developed with 18 months of regularity and devotion. Sure, some days my running was shortened or skipped altogether. My runs were rarely perfect, working out just as I had planned. But they were there and they have added so much to my day that now my day seems empty without them.
Through daily pursuit, with the help of an Army that has physical fitness standards, I have re-developed a habit for running in the morning that now makes my day seem empty without it. To be honest, I covet that kind of discipline with my devotional life. My devotional life is much like my running: I'd like it to be daily, I can tell when I haven't done it in a while, and it lends a great strength to who I am. My prayer today is that I would get as much joy from my spiritual discipline as I have been getting from my physical discipline.
Enter Thursday. Thanks to some Tylenol PM, I am not as sore as Wednesday, but I am certainly not motivated to do anything, either. The more I sit around, the more I feel I have to do something. Finally, Japen enters and says, "Hey Chaplain, how about a run?" With that, we head out the door.
In the middle of the run, I ask myself," Why am I doing this?" I did more yesterday than some people will do all week, yet here I am just 24 hours later running again. If it were all up to me, I know that I would be in my office just working away. But something that seemed to be missing is found as my big feet patter down the pavement and Japen I talk about nothing more than which way to turn. The road has become familiar, a habit, a pattern developed with 18 months of regularity and devotion. Sure, some days my running was shortened or skipped altogether. My runs were rarely perfect, working out just as I had planned. But they were there and they have added so much to my day that now my day seems empty without them.
Through daily pursuit, with the help of an Army that has physical fitness standards, I have re-developed a habit for running in the morning that now makes my day seem empty without it. To be honest, I covet that kind of discipline with my devotional life. My devotional life is much like my running: I'd like it to be daily, I can tell when I haven't done it in a while, and it lends a great strength to who I am. My prayer today is that I would get as much joy from my spiritual discipline as I have been getting from my physical discipline.
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