Our basement is home to a hodgepodge of leftover artifacts. One of these is my dad’s old Schwinn AirDyne exercise bike. Contrary to common logic, it’s one of the best-used items we own. Its classic steel bars and surprisingly loud fan provide me with the best full-body workout I’ve found since my joints went all funky. Gym membership or no, this baby gets used almost as often as our coffeepot.

Yesterday, I’m on the Schwinn, pedaling hard. David Crowder Band is playing on my iPod way louder than my mother would approve of. One eye is on the analog dial and all I know is I can’t let the big hand slip beneath the ‘4’ until the readout says ‘57000’. This is my own concocted method of torture without which a day can hardly be considered a success. I need the endorphins, the rush, the challenge and the confidence that only comes through conquering something.

The truth is I’m mostly ineffectual. I sin. I mess things up. Often, I can’t fully live up to even the mediocre goals I set for myself. In the midst of a life of discovering over and over that, yet again, I am not the woman, the wife, the daughter, the employee or the Christian I would love to be, at least I can push on a lever system with my feet and hands until my breath comes fast and I know once I’m done I’ll feel as weak bodily as I am spiritually. This all occurs to me halfway through song #3, pedaling like my salvation depends on maintaining a ‘4’ until ‘57000’. God’s Word says He removed my sin from me as far as the east is from the west (Ps. 103:12). So why do I work so hard?

God, please help me to accept your grace! Forgive me for rejecting it by continuing to strive in my own strength. I can do nothing without you. Father, teach me to rest in you. “Raise me up from this grave. Touch my tongue and then I’ll sing. Heal my limbs and joyfully I’ll run to you” (David Crowder Band).