I was seventh on our line up and I could pretty easily count down their line up to find my opponent. And I did. But there was no way this guy was my size. He was a gorilla of an eighth grader. Muscles bulged out of him where they shouldn’t have. It made me sick to my stomach knowing I had to face him. “Coach, I don’t feel well today. Can I….”. “Sit down Maier. I see him too. You’ll be fine.”
My yellow lab once saw a great dane from 20 yards away. He squealed like he was hit by a car, rolled over and peed himself. Just because of the shear size of the other dog. I pretty much did the same thing. But I got on that mat anyway and I started out wrestling like I was already beaten. I all but rolled onto my back and nearly stuck my own shoulders to the mat. But I held out a bit, and as the match went on, I realized he couldn’t beat me. I think I could have actually won, had I not started out like I did.
This week has the danger of being that way for me. It is midnight. My alarm is set for 5:15. I am a bit mad at myself for having some work left that I had to get done before tomorrow. I feel beaten already. Tara will need me this week. How can I be there for her when I am already spent?
It is in these times that I can see God at work more. Or not really see Him at work, but I see the result of his work. Because I have already come to the end of what I have to offer for the week, and it hasn’t even started. And like every time this has happened before, at the end of what I have to offer, I find that we still have all we need. That is the miracle of the sustenance of God. Until we get here, with nothing left, we cannot experience that miracle.
But it sucks in the process. Like right now. I see an opponent that I cannot beat and it is so tempting to quit. God I trust you to come through again.