It Would Be A Lie To Run Away...

I am awake. It is late. I can't sleep. I have to get up in five hours, so I can bike to church and get there by 7:15. That is not a complaint. I love biking. I love church. I love getting up early. Though, sleep would be appreciated right about three hours ago. This terrible curse of no sleep is probably due to the fact that I took an Excedrin at around 6 this evening, and those two wonderful and terrible, white pills happen to have loads of caffeine packed into them. Though, I have no pain in my head! Woot.

It's so funny to me how this culture tries to cure every little painful thing in life. I had a migraine today because I didn't drink enough water, biked all over town, and didn't eat lunch. I was stupid and didn't treat my body very well, yet I cover it up with a painkiller to hold me over until tomorrow. Maybe my body was trying to tell me something? Like, hey Emily, maybe next time you could actually eat some protein and drink some water. This way, I'm nourished and you won't get a headache--win-win situation! Yet, I cover up that wonderful message my body is trying to send me, and I learn nothing. Why is pain so avoided? When, really, it's through pain that we learn and become better.

Like pruning a rose bush. For two weeks after pruning, there's just gross, ugly stubs of green sticking out of the ground. But then, after two weeks, there are double the blossoms...

Or, like working out. "No pain, no gain"--a saying that echoes in my memory from my couch yelling at our cross country team in high school...

Or, even better, the cross. Without that pain, I'd be dead. Or, I would be alive, yet would not have much hope of ever being justified as a person, as an anything. Compared to His pain, my little problems throughout the days, weeks, months, years, are nothing. Like Jon Foreman, yet again, so honestly puts it: "Oh my Lord, to suffer like you do, it would be a lie to run away."

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You still haven't found what you thought you were looking for,

and I am still waiting, 

patiently,

at the door.

You still run away from what you didn't want,

only to find 

it's just that

that you need.