BLOG

I’ve been trying to get back into biking now that winter has finally abated and summer is punching its wily fist through the air at last. I live within biking distance of many of my friends, my job/church, and some of my favorite restaurants, so this really won’t be too difficult. Along with this mentality came the annual ISHOULDTOTALLYJOINTHEGYM thoughts, and so I rode my bike over there and did just that.  
 Last week in the women’s room at the gym, as I was jamming to Justin Timberlake’s  Mirror  and trying to figure out how to get the elliptical machine off Everest Mode, I looked up at the TV and saw that  The View  was on. They were talking about the TV show Scandal and so naturally I  had to pause JT and listen up to the 4 crazy ladies talk about my gladiator girl Olivia Pope.  
 What caught me off guard was that they weren’t praising the excellent writing or acting… or even the jaw-dropping cliff-hanger season finale. They were discussing how uncomfortable it made them that they were rooting for the mistress is this tangled web of politics, espionage, and adultery. It felt so backwards.  
 As the women on  The View  continued to discuss this strange allegiance to The Other Woman, I noticed something.  
 All of the women in the gym who were watching the show began to work harder. Run faster. Lift quicker. Squat lower.  
  “…I mean his wife is a shrew and a horrible person, of course we like the mistress better…"   
 Run faster. Lift quicker. Squat lower.  
  ”…Isn’t it weird that we like her better? I am actually rooting for this marriage to fall apart and it’s so strange to be that way…“  
 Run faster. Lift quicker. Squat lower.  
 I found my own feet moving more quickly. I suddenly felt the inescapable weight of my own body. I felt the sweat pouring down my face and my back and my shins. Every woman’s eyes in that room were fixated in the tv as they pounded themselves further and further down the artificial treadmill road.  
  What if I’m never good enough? What if I’m never skinny enough or pretty enough or fun enough to get married? What if I do and he finds someone skinnier, prettier, funnier?    
 I couldn’t believe the thoughts flooding my mind. I have my moments of self-doubt like any red-blooded person, but never this rampant, this quickly, this fearful. I couldn’t tell if it was sweat or tears filling my eyes.  
 I finally just had to leave. I hopped on my bike and went for a ride through Normaltown, looking at all of the colorful bungalow houses and wondering what kind of families lived inside them. Would I ever be like them? With a yard and discarded children’s toys and a garden? With a wide front porch and stained-glass windows and remnants of last weekend’s cookout still waiting by the garage?  
 In the midst of my worry, I was reminded of a Tim Keller quote that someone once told me:  
 
  “  God   will only give you what you would have asked for   if you knew everything   he   knows.  ”   
 
  It’s hard to imagine I’d be asking to be single, lonely, and worried that no one will love me… but do I believe that God is sovereign? Am I really going to be the type of person who believes that God is Good and Perfect but that He,  like, totally forgot  to give me a boyfriend?   
  I hope not.   
  In that moment… that sweaty, doubtful, fearful moment I realized more fully than ever before that I am going to be OK because I am not in control, He is. 

I’ve been trying to get back into biking now that winter has finally abated and summer is punching its wily fist through the air at last. I live within biking distance of many of my friends, my job/church, and some of my favorite restaurants, so this really won’t be too difficult. Along with this mentality came the annual ISHOULDTOTALLYJOINTHEGYM thoughts, and so I rode my bike over there and did just that. 

Last week in the women’s room at the gym, as I was jamming to Justin Timberlake’s Mirror and trying to figure out how to get the elliptical machine off Everest Mode, I looked up at the TV and saw that The View was on. They were talking about the TV show Scandal and so naturally I  had to pause JT and listen up to the 4 crazy ladies talk about my gladiator girl Olivia Pope. 

What caught me off guard was that they weren’t praising the excellent writing or acting… or even the jaw-dropping cliff-hanger season finale. They were discussing how uncomfortable it made them that they were rooting for the mistress is this tangled web of politics, espionage, and adultery. It felt so backwards. 

As the women on The View continued to discuss this strange allegiance to The Other Woman, I noticed something. 

All of the women in the gym who were watching the show began to work harder. Run faster. Lift quicker. Squat lower. 

“…I mean his wife is a shrew and a horrible person, of course we like the mistress better…" 

Run faster. Lift quicker. Squat lower. 

”…Isn’t it weird that we like her better? I am actually rooting for this marriage to fall apart and it’s so strange to be that way…“

Run faster. Lift quicker. Squat lower. 

I found my own feet moving more quickly. I suddenly felt the inescapable weight of my own body. I felt the sweat pouring down my face and my back and my shins. Every woman’s eyes in that room were fixated in the tv as they pounded themselves further and further down the artificial treadmill road. 

What if I’m never good enough? What if I’m never skinny enough or pretty enough or fun enough to get married? What if I do and he finds someone skinnier, prettier, funnier?  

I couldn’t believe the thoughts flooding my mind. I have my moments of self-doubt like any red-blooded person, but never this rampant, this quickly, this fearful. I couldn’t tell if it was sweat or tears filling my eyes. 

I finally just had to leave. I hopped on my bike and went for a ride through Normaltown, looking at all of the colorful bungalow houses and wondering what kind of families lived inside them. Would I ever be like them? With a yard and discarded children’s toys and a garden? With a wide front porch and stained-glass windows and remnants of last weekend’s cookout still waiting by the garage? 

In the midst of my worry, I was reminded of a Tim Keller quote that someone once told me: 

God will only give you what you would have asked for if you knew everything he knows.” 

It’s hard to imagine I’d be asking to be single, lonely, and worried that no one will love me… but do I believe that God is sovereign? Am I really going to be the type of person who believes that God is Good and Perfect but that He, like, totally forgot to give me a boyfriend? 

I hope not. 

In that moment… that sweaty, doubtful, fearful moment I realized more fully than ever before that I am going to be OK because I am not in control, He is.