running
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Run For Joy
As I mentioned in a recent blog post, and as the Sioux Falls Argus Leader has reported, I am going for a run for the sake of joy this weekend, and you're invited to join me, here or wherever you are.
The prophets knew this thousands of years ago: we become like what we worship. We might think we don't worship, but I'm here to tell you that the way you spend your life is the way you worship. We all worship. Each of us ascribes worth to things by giving our time, our money, and our attention to them.
It's tempting to give our attention to monsters, to worship the devils that the news cameras follow breathlessly through the streets. It is tempting to worship our fears, to let the things that could steal, or maim, or kill become the focus of our attention. It is tempting to hold the horrors in our hearts until we form them into perfect idols. If that weren't tempting, the news would look very different.
Avoiding idolatry - by which I mean worshiping things that are not worthy of our precious lives and attention - takes a conscious and sustained effort.
It requires us to remember not the horror but the joy. It requires us to give up the cramped life of fear and to stretch ourselves in the exuberance of being alive, of having a body.
At their best, this is what marathons are about: exultation in the gift of living an embodied life.
So run with me. Shake off the terrors, and feel your muscles, your bones, your sinewed vitality. Wherever you are, get out there and feel a little of what the marathoners were feeling as they ran, the hard-earned joy of running, the joy of feeling alive with other people.
Let me add that I'm not an accomplished runner, so don't expect me to lead the pack. This will be a run, not a race. If you want to walk with us, push a stroller, or whatever lets you feel the joy of being alive, come and join us. Bring your joy.
The prophets knew this thousands of years ago: we become like what we worship. We might think we don't worship, but I'm here to tell you that the way you spend your life is the way you worship. We all worship. Each of us ascribes worth to things by giving our time, our money, and our attention to them.
It's tempting to give our attention to monsters, to worship the devils that the news cameras follow breathlessly through the streets. It is tempting to worship our fears, to let the things that could steal, or maim, or kill become the focus of our attention. It is tempting to hold the horrors in our hearts until we form them into perfect idols. If that weren't tempting, the news would look very different.
Avoiding idolatry - by which I mean worshiping things that are not worthy of our precious lives and attention - takes a conscious and sustained effort.
It requires us to remember not the horror but the joy. It requires us to give up the cramped life of fear and to stretch ourselves in the exuberance of being alive, of having a body.
At their best, this is what marathons are about: exultation in the gift of living an embodied life.
So run with me. Shake off the terrors, and feel your muscles, your bones, your sinewed vitality. Wherever you are, get out there and feel a little of what the marathoners were feeling as they ran, the hard-earned joy of running, the joy of feeling alive with other people.
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I'm not collecting money, but I encourage you also to give a donation to an organization of your choosing that cares for those who suffer. I'm going to give to the Red Cross and the United Way. Because I think that love for neighbor is a worthwhile thing to focus my attention on, and giving my money helps to focus my attention.
And while you're at it: turn off the news and think about this: what is bringing you joy today? How are you bringing joy to others today? As someone wise once said, "whatever is true,
whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is
lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or
praiseworthy—think about such things."
*****
Let me add that I'm not an accomplished runner, so don't expect me to lead the pack. This will be a run, not a race. If you want to walk with us, push a stroller, or whatever lets you feel the joy of being alive, come and join us. Bring your joy.
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Run For My Life
Yesterday I went for a run. I'm not much of a runner, but it seemed like a good response to the Boston Marathon.
The Boston Marathon is a huge gathering for the sake of doing something none of us needs to do. It's a race, and yeah, someone will be fastest, but everyone who finishes it wins. A Marathon is an exuberance.
When the bombs go off and the guns fire, we all duck for cover. And we know what happens next: first the media run the same film loops dubbed with the same breathless commentary. And then someone announces that we're taking new security measures.
I'm sure all that's good. We need media, and it's just prudent to take security measures.
But it's not enough. If our response to terrorism is to feel afraid, the terrorists have won.
Which is why I am going to respond with joy. And more exuberance.
So here is what I will do: this Sunday, I am going for a run - I'm calling it a Joy Run - and I'm inviting my friends to join me. We'll run 2.62 miles (a tenth of a marathon - I'm not a great runner, so don't ask for more) and I'm going to ask them all to make a donation to the Red Cross or the United Way or another organization that exists to promote the public good and cares for people who are suffering.
If you know me, you'll know where to find me. If not, rather than having you call me and ask if you can donate, let me just urge you to do the same thing wherever you are.
There will always be people who want to limit life, who say no to life, who mail suspicious packages and kill strangers. I feel sorry for them; may God bless them by helping them learn to say yes to life, love, and wisdom. Because they exist, we'll always need to be vigilant.
But because we exist, we should not forget to live. Brightly, joyfully, exuberantly.
And so, this Sunday, inspired by those who ran exuberantly in the Boston Marathon, my friends and I are going to run. For my life, and for theirs, and wishing life and joy to everyone, everywhere.
The Boston Marathon is a huge gathering for the sake of doing something none of us needs to do. It's a race, and yeah, someone will be fastest, but everyone who finishes it wins. A Marathon is an exuberance.
When the bombs go off and the guns fire, we all duck for cover. And we know what happens next: first the media run the same film loops dubbed with the same breathless commentary. And then someone announces that we're taking new security measures.
I'm sure all that's good. We need media, and it's just prudent to take security measures.
But it's not enough. If our response to terrorism is to feel afraid, the terrorists have won.
Which is why I am going to respond with joy. And more exuberance.
So here is what I will do: this Sunday, I am going for a run - I'm calling it a Joy Run - and I'm inviting my friends to join me. We'll run 2.62 miles (a tenth of a marathon - I'm not a great runner, so don't ask for more) and I'm going to ask them all to make a donation to the Red Cross or the United Way or another organization that exists to promote the public good and cares for people who are suffering.
If you know me, you'll know where to find me. If not, rather than having you call me and ask if you can donate, let me just urge you to do the same thing wherever you are.
There will always be people who want to limit life, who say no to life, who mail suspicious packages and kill strangers. I feel sorry for them; may God bless them by helping them learn to say yes to life, love, and wisdom. Because they exist, we'll always need to be vigilant.
But because we exist, we should not forget to live. Brightly, joyfully, exuberantly.
And so, this Sunday, inspired by those who ran exuberantly in the Boston Marathon, my friends and I are going to run. For my life, and for theirs, and wishing life and joy to everyone, everywhere.