The self is that opponent I seldom slug. I pull my punch. I love him too much. But even when I do knock him down, he is never out. Inevitably, out of my periphery I see him getting up off the canvas. He is relentless. There are no neutral corners with him. He can't hear the bell. He won't stay down. And like a seasoned sparring partner, he knows my soft targets. He is as unwelcome to me as a sunrise to the sleepless. I would know.
ll take you to meet Kevin. A former Dallas cop with a brain injury. I want his heart.
I’ll take you to meet Ryle. Spina bifida imprisons his little body, but his spirit no arena can hold.
I’ll take you to a welcome ceremony, a pirate’s play and a talent show. I’ll take you there.
And I’ll introduce you to a small team of people leading the charge in Texas for kids and families impacted by special needs. So, if you’re looking for a reason to serve, to train, to hard-charge the week, to eat right, to see your health and illness through the Gospel’s lens, I have just one…I’m happy.
How we handle our gifts and abilities could produce a truce. Where we go in times of sickness is a chance at a treaty. Isn't that the real point? It really isn't about being at peace with my body. God-forbid I minimize the topic down to the preservation of self-acceptance or being comfortable in my own skin.
What will we do when our loss of muscle, or our gain of bodyfat, our diminishing bone mass, elevated resting heart rate, our unrelenting atrophy, our irreversible disease progression, or our unmistakeable loss of strength testifies to the truth that we are made of dust, not iron. What will we do with Easter?
When I got sick a few years ago, my grasp of my mortality tightened and my sensitivity to the brittleness of my body heightened. I came face-to-face with a certain truth. That my physical limit wasn't my personal best; like some passing bench press (405lb.) or my squat (550lb.); imposters disguised as my potential. I list them only to help illustrate that those mountain-top moments didn't represent my personal best. No, the most strenuous minute I've ever filled came when I realized I would never attempt to best them.