One Christmas, long, long ago, “Santa” left me a bright blue, Schwinn bicycle under the tree. I was ecstatic! The only problem: I didn’t know how to ride a two-wheeler. Uncle Jack, who lived with us at the time, took me outside and proceeded to help me learn. I’d sit on the wide, two-toned seat, grip the handlebars, and fix my feet on the peddles.
Uncle Jack, would reassure me he wouldn’t let go while holding the bike steady as I began to understand the feeling of balance. He’d walk alongside, slowly moving me forward. Then he’d release control.
As quickly as I’d weave and wobble and start to tip over, he’d take control again. It took me awhile to learn to ride that bike. I’d try and then fall, get up and try, try again. I eventually learned how to ride a bike — and I’ve never forgotten.
Living Dead takes perseverance, but unlike riding a bike it’s not a lesson we’re meant to perfect.
This summer, the project I worked on needed to be complete and ready to roll by July 16th (I know, I’ve told you that in every post). I’d often feel like we were assembling a 747 in mid-air, and we were landing July 16th ready or not.
I counted the days, measured the hours, and every morning sighed with relief that another day had passed. Most days I had all kinds of people to meet, decisions to make, and deadlines to reach. I couldn’t make July 16th come faster or slower, it was coming no matter what. So I learned, again, the meaning of endurance. When I wanted to quit I’d call out to the Lord and ask for the strength to carry on. When plans changed, which they did nearly every day, I had to ask the Lord for wisdom. When split second decisions had to be made, I had to trust the Lord’s guidance. When I felt afraid or alone or overwhelmed – I told him.
Most often I felt very unsure of myself, which was terribly humbling. He helped me to push through and often reminded me that there is hope! He is present, he keeps his promises, and His purposes are different and greater than mine.
Perseverance isn’t easy, but remember we’re not created to peddle through life alone. When we know Jesus we never are.