“Really?” she chirped. Then her
face fell as she realized that she would have to put her snow gear
back on, likely get wet, have to change clothes, etc. After a few
moments' debate, her eyes brightened and she jumped up, exclaiming,
“It's worth it!” Motivated
by relief from the task at hand, she bounded down
the stairs and out the door.
Earlier this week, I finally met one of
my daily goals: going to bed early. What a blessing it was to get up
early the next morning and have time to pray, study, write and
accomplish a few things while everyone else was still sleeping! My
day snow-balled and was filled with more and more blessings as the
chain reaction of that one decision played out. Many prayers were
answered. (I should add that heartfelt repentance and prayer were a
major part of what led to the blessings, not just sleep).
The next night, however, did not go as
well. When I awoke the next morning at 5:30 to feed Baby Hack, I had
an internal debate. Should I go ahead and get up or go back to sleep
for an hour or so? Sleep won. But I didn't. I awoke only minutes
before the rest of the household, so my prayer and study were brief
and there was not much time to accomplish anything, and no time to
write. By the end of the day, I was discouraged and frustrated – a
slave to my sorrow – again.
So the next day I found myself awake at
5:30 again and asking myself the question: Is it worth it?
A myriad of memories has been swimming
through my head ever since. A speaker I'd heard, who said, “God
told me that this blessing I was asking for would not come through
casual effort.” A homeschooling mom who said, “If you
don't get up early, you know you will have a bad day.” Part of
a book called The Dream Giver, in which the author
asserts that, like Abraham, there will come a point in your journey
at which the Lord asks you to sacrifice the thing you love the most
(food, sleep, pride, your self?). The message of the book, The
Anatomy of Peace, which said that when you have a thought
that you should do something and then you betray yourself and don't
do it, you end up unhappy, making up excuses for your behavior and
rationalizing your guilt away. I thought of my daughter's
anticipation of relief and how it motivated her to act. Relief from
guilt and sorrow could be a powerful motivator.
In essence, do we not all face this
debate constantly? Is it
worth it? We all have some thing (or more likely
many things) lingering before us that is hard for us to do. It may be
overcoming shyness so that you can speak to others. It may be
overcoming fear so can do what you know you should. It may be
sacrificing a bit of sleep so that you can have the blessing of
powerful scripture study and prayer, or exercise, in your life. It
might be sacrificing the pleasure of eating junk in order to preserve
your health. Whatever it is that you feel you should do, but are
finding trouble actually doing, take a step back and look at it
wisely.
It all came together when I read
Stephen Palmer's article, in which he says, “Wise
people learn to foresee consequences and act accordingly.”
He went on to quote Viktor Frankl, who said, “Live
as though you are living already for the second time and as if you
had acted the first time as wrongly as you are about to act now.”
I'd wager that most of us are walking
around making most of our choices out of habit. If it's our habit to
stay up late in the name of accomplishment even when that time ends
up fruitless day after day, then we just keep doing it. Often, we
feel powerless to change, thinking things like 'well, I slept late
this morning, so I can't go to bed early tonight.' If it's our habit
to procrastinate tasks that scare the living daylights out of us, or
make us feel inadequate, then we will procrastinate them again and
again. Each choice drives us further into the spiral of despair at
the heart of our souls, where we know that we are not doing things
that we should do.
I was deep down one of these spirals
when the voice of the Lord said to me, “Where
is your faith?” I realized that I was
succumbing to the devil's convincing voice that I was just a failure
and therefore could not succeed in overcoming. I wondered where my
faith had gone? Faith is a principle of action. I should be acting,
as I am free to do, to solve my problems. I should be acting to do
the things that I know I should do.
Jacob 6:12 says “O be wise, what can
I say more?” Wisdom helps me to see beyond the choice I am
about to make. Wisdom foresees, “You will get sick if you continue
eating this way.” “You will feel guilt and sorrow if you do not
call those people and set up appointments with them this week, but
real relief and happiness if you do.” “You will be blessed with
power and calm throughout the day if you get up early and take care
of your spirit and body.” Wisdom foresees that the craving,
discomfort, and sleepiness will be short-lived if you make the right
choice and plow through them.
Faith decides to actually care about
what Wisdom says and do something about it. Faith puts away the box
of graham crackers and chews a piece of gum. Faith picks up the phone
and faces fear and reluctance. Faith goes to bed and gets up early.
Faith doesn't do things the wrong way you've always done them. Faith
makes a change.
“I can do all things through Christ,
which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13).
Faith first believes this, then,
through prayer and consistently acting and doing what should
be done, Faith comes to know it is actually true. With Christ, I can.
And I will. It doesn't matter how many times I've failed at it or how
many times I still will fail as I am trying to improve. Each new day
begins: With Christ, I can. And I will.
It. Is. Worth. It.
Do what you know you should.
