It's the time of semester when students are preregistering for fall courses. Which means lots of knocks on my door. "Can you help me pick my courses for next semester?" It's a part of my job I normally enjoy, but today it is just more interruptions as the stack of grading looms over my head.
Extra-long chapels. Meetings this week. All kinds of "other stuff" going on. More to juggle. It's just been that kind of a day.
Extra-long chapels. Meetings this week. All kinds of "other stuff" going on. More to juggle. It's just been that kind of a day.
And then a text from a friend. Hard news. Really hard news.
So I gave up on the day and decided to go for a run on the treadmill.
Now, I run on the treadmill on a regular basis. I download a movie to my iPad from Netflix and I Netflix and run my backside off. I find it therapeutic. An hour of mindless entertainment that distracts me from the pain of running and the tedium of the treadmill, and when it's all done, I'm de-stressed and in a better frame of mind, and my heart (both physically and metaphorically) thanks me.
But the wifi was down. Nothing was downloading today, and the prospect of an hour of torture on the treadmill was looming ahead of me.
You could always pray...
I could always pray. I headed down to the gym.
But praying is hard when you're running on a treadmill. My breathing was ragged, my footfalls stumbling, my thoughts scattered. Running is rhythmic - breathe in, step, step, breathe out, step, step. And my tumbling thoughts were fighting with the rhythm I needed to breathe.
"Lord, have mercy."
Breathe in. Lord, have. Breathe out. Mercy.
"Lord, have mercy; Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy on my friend."
The words were rhythmic. My breathing became rhythmic. The footfalls fell in cadence. My thoughts smoothed. Just that. Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy on my friend.
My friend who has lost a loved one and is wading her way through the painful journey of grief.
My friends who are serving in the heat and the heartbreak that is Togo, West Africa.
My friend who is awaiting test results for their little boy.
My friend who is facing a long and uncertain medical journey.
My friend, my colleague, my brother, my sister, my student.
Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy on each one of them.
My feet are landing smoothly now. Breathe in "Lord have". Breathe out "mercy". The minutes and the miles slide by.
Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy on us.
Because we stand before you helpless. We cannot face any of this alone. We cannot do it. We cannot live another day, as the evil presses in on us from all sides. Heartbreak, illness, loss, death, fear threaten to overwhelm us in a moment. Lord, have mercy. Reach in. Hold back the evil. Allow us to focus on you. Christ, have mercy. See our frailty. See our pain. See our longing for you. Reach in to each of these situations and change them as only you can. Lord, have mercy on us.
The cadence of the breathing, the cadence of the footfalls, the cadence of the prayer come together. Calm. Peace. And then this:
"The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you" (Rom. 16:20).
My feet are falling hard. I breathe in grace. I breathe out praise. I reach out and increase the time on the treadmill. My feet pound. It's just been that kind of day, and I want to make sure the evil one is well and truly crushed.
Lord, have mercy; Christ have mercy; Lord have mercy on me.
NB: "Kyrie, Eleison" is the Greek transliteration of the phrase, "Lord, have mercy." It is a prayer repeated often in the New Testament, always by people who knew their desperate need: the Canaanite woman looking for healing for her child; Bartemeus, the blind beggar; a pair of unnamed beggars on the road. It became a liturgical prayer, sung or spoken in church services. You can hear a mondern sung version of it here and a traditional version of it here.
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