Many, I mean many years ago when I was in high school in
Ontario, track and field was quite a deal. I remember our gym teacher having us
run track for what seemed to be forever. It wasn’t really, but when you’re
fourteen everything seems to be more than your limit. When we all finally
stopped, and all of us were wheezing, he said okay guys, one more lap. After
our groans he gave us something to think about. He said none of us never really
know how much we can do, or take and when we think there is nothing left to
give, there always is. For some reason, that has stayed with me for over fifty
years.
There have been times, even this year when I thought, I have
nothing left to give. I’m sure we’ve all had that thought, yet here we are.
Last month as my wife and son were making crab apple jelly, my son commented on
the thousands of holes in the bark of our crab apple tree, most likely from
woodpeckers gorging on insects over the last few years. This years’ crop of
apples was the largest in the trees’ twenty year life, despite the holes. You
would think that the damage to the tree would prevent it from even throwing
leaves, let alone apples. Goes to show that even a tree that seemingly should
be dead, can still contribute and give.
We as people are a lot like that tree. Over our lifetime we
will be rained and snowed on, have holes poked into us (figuratively), be
ignored, abused, broken, and starved for many things that should sustain us.
Yet, when a friend, relative, son or daughter, pastor, and yes, God, ask us for
anything, we always find something left in the tank. Again, we never know our
limitations. Death of a loved one, a health scare, financial challenges can all
be the plug that gets pulled as our life force wants to drain out of us. When
all seems hopeless, God shows up. We may wonder why He waits until then, or
seemingly never shows up, but He does. The human in us cannot see or
fathom how he works, and we get blinded by the light of the train in the
tunnel when our world crashes. It’s hard to get around this I know. I’ve
watched a family this year being tormented by the death of a husband and
father. They are trying to cope and live, but even now, months later the agony
of being drained is quite evident. I watch this daily trying to encourage and
lift as I can, yet It’s not enough, not yet. I have worn the shoes and tied the
laces, so I know their pain. Even through this, they give. They help each
other, they lean on one another, laugh a lot less, and cry a lot more. Yet,
they don’t give up.
God does see this. He sees how the grief is drilling painful
holes in them every day. He also has a plan to lift and carry them through
this. It will eventually get better, but it never goes away as my mom would
say. All of us will be faced with this unfair endurance race, and the devil
will bark at us saying, give me one more lap. Well God will give us all the
strength for one more, then another, then another. We need only lean on Him.
That is hard to do when pain and suffering is on your doorstep. Yet, one day
you will hear Jesus knock on the door to your heart, and will patiently wait
for you to open the door from the inside. His knock may come in the form of
someone offering to simply pray with you, cry with you or just sitting while you
pour out. Listen closely for the door as He knocks ever so gently. Open the
door and He’ll tell you He knows your limits, even when you don’t know them.
Let Him in and allow Him to give you what He has to offer for just one more
lap, or a thousand. God has a plan for your life, and it’s only by faith that
we can let Him unfold it, even through the tough days.
Mike Shindruk
Master’s Hand Ministry
