I am a jogger. It’s true. Although I am not really sure that what I do can properly be termed “jogging.” I often refer to it as “slogging.” That’s a combination of the terms “slow” and “jogging.” One winter, my wife and I began “slogging” indoors at an ice hockey arena in order to escape the cold weather. There were several others from the community who had the same idea. Most of them were “seniors” (I refer to them with great respect, because I am dangerously close to being “senior” myself). Now, even though what I do is slogging, it was still somewhat faster than what most of the seniors did (they were smart enough to walk). But a couple of these new friends began to refer to me as “The Flash.” (I have to admit, I sort of liked the nickname.) They accused me of speeding even though that was not possible. My pace was merely somewhat quicker than a person walking. However, I was able to enjoy the illusion of speed compared to the walkers. Occasionally some of the high school runners would show up and give me a lesson in humility. As they would effortlessly blaze past me, I felt as though I was running in quicksand.

   The Bible says this… “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.” Something precious happened on Wednesday, July 28th, 2010…something precious to Father God. My biggest reason for loving holidays is because, so often, I get to spend time with family members who live far away from me. I look forward to those times more than I can tell you. The opportunities that togetherness gives us to hug, kiss, laugh, pray, play, worship and sing are just marvelous. Such times are precious to me.

   I’ve no criticism at all to offer real sufferers from whose pained lips the above question sometimes forces itself. But, at this particular time in my life, when things seem to be on a fairly even keel and I am not in the midst of a personal crisis, I’d like to ask the above question with a different perspective. Lord, why am I in good health when others about me struggle so? Why me and not them? Why do I get to live in the land of the free when so many are oppressed? Why me and not them? Why do I have a nice home with ample land for a garden, a lawn and trees while so many go to sleep at night with little or no shelter? Why me and not them? Why do I have food enough in my cupboards and freezer to last for many weeks when there are so many people, and especially children, in our world whose bellies ache for a real meal? Why me and not them? Why is my pet getting better medical care than the vast majority of people in our world? Why do I have several motor vehicles when so many in the world have only their unshod feet for transportation? Why me and not them?

I may not know my own heart. I may be unqualified to say what I’m about to say. When it comes to comparing struggles with many others I know of, I’m a lightweight. My pain threshold is low…very low. It doesn’t take a lot to throw me into a funk. But I’ve had some serious struggles in my life. I’ve known sustained personal defeat. I’ve let others down. I’ve felt the keen edge of betrayal’s knife in my back. I know what it’s like to be unable to eat, unable to sleep and unable to feel that anything would ever be okay again. But for all that…the very toughest time for me…is when someone I care about is up against it. They are enduring real pain. They can hardly find words to express what’s going on inside them. They need my help. They need me. They express that fact. But there’s nothing I can do to fix it for them. I tell you, I flat out hate times like that. I am beyond grateful that they express their pain to me. Nothing I’m saying here is meant to keep them from doing that…not ever. I want to be brought in on their lives in joy or sorrow. I want to know their needs.

Let’s see now…how can I get ahead in life. This is, of course, my interest. This was pre-figured at my birth. I was a twin. When my brother was born first, from inside the womb I reached forth my hand to grasp his heel. It was as though I would have pulled him back inside so that I could be first. The favoritism that my mom and dad revealed (dad favoring my brother…mom favoring me), set up the contest. Who would be first? I was determined it would be me. I schemed. I jockeyed for position. I kept my finger on the pulse of things. I was always ready to spring into action in order to gain my purpose. I deceived my brother, who actually made an easy target. I deceived my nearly blind father. As I fled from my vengeful brother, I actually even schemed with God. I played “Let’s make a deal” with God. If You will take care of me…feed me, clothe me, protect me…and bring me back to this place safely one day, why then You will be my God. And I’ll even pay You a tenth of all I own. Sound like a good deal?