Don’t flay the sheep.

I take a bike ride with my sense of entitlement, Naaman, and Job 1:21

I decided to bike today as part of the anti-spread campaign–more miles.

The current tally: 4821.6 to Rome.

But, while I was getting my bike out of the basement, I started having a little pity party for myself. Not to go into too much detail, but let’s just say it was along the lines of “I’m almost 30, what am I doing here?” and precipitated by (a) the leaky foundation in my basement (b) the incredible number of spiders in my basement (c) the spider that landed in my hair when I came out of the cellar with my bike and (d) the fact that, in spite of the spider zoo that is my basement, yard, and entire falling-apart-house, there are still enough mosquitoes in my weedy backyard for me to get 5 bites in 1 minute.

Fleeing the mosquitoes, I climbed on my bike and started listening to a couple of sermons. (Yes, this is a minister-nerd-thing: I listen to podcasted sermons while I exercise. Also, I know it’s best not to bike with headphones.) The first one, from this church (great sermons, by the way) was about Naaman the leper. Much simplified, but the basic point was that we are not in control of our lives. What we plan, what we think we deserve, is not what we always end up with. (Again, very simplified–listen to the sermon yourself if you want to understand this better.)

OK, I think, point taken. We don’t get to lay out perfect plans for ourselves. That’s God’s thing.

I was biking, too, along the river here, which is very very swollen. After being crabby about the puddle in my own basement, I biked past a family who were sandbagging to keep their entire house from flooding. Yes, yes, I know: puddle/completely flooded house.

Ten miles, a couple sermons and a few good songs later, I’m back in front of my house, looking at the paint peeling, slapping mosquitoes, and listening to a song I never listen to. Suddenly, the song clicks: it’s based on Job 1:21. Blessed be your name, Lord. Whatever the circumstance. Mosquitoes, peeling paint, puddly basement and all.

Not a bad journey for 10 miles.

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