Exhausted, I stare down into the sink. It’s clogged. Has been for several weeks. When it does slowly drain it leaves a dark grimy film, and no matter how many times I scour it, the grime returns each time it’s clogged.

(Which is daily.)

I stare at the water; it isn’t going anywhere. I look up into the mirror, my face red from exertion, hair soaked with sweat. I just got off the treadmill.

The absurdity of it strikes me: I’m exhausted from running nowhere.

In so many ways.

Tears sting my eyes as my reflection blurs sideways. I had thought about it while running, had thought about how ridiculous it was to run, all alone, for forty minutes and not get anywhere.

Why God?

Why am I getting nowhere?

Everyday I get up. You do too. Everyday we obey God in the mundane details of life behind the scenes. We wipe counters, noses, and bottoms.  We listen, labor, love–often alone. We wash, work, worship. And then we wake up the next morning and do it all again.

Kinda sounds like a treadmill to me.

I poured this out to Him as I ran, one foot in front of the other, scenery never changing. The only thing ahead of me was a wall.

That’s how my days feel sometimes as well.

My exercise is in obedience to God. I’m obeying Him with my body. He clearly called me to this, so I obey. Get up each morning. Get on my knees. Spread out His Word. Ask. Seek. Lace up the shoes. Run the miles. Write the words. Raise the kids.

Repeat.

Sometimes the scenery never changes.

Then why run it?

I ask Him this, these exact words, while pounding out the steps, keeping pace with prayer. His still small voice:

“Because you’re training.”

Tears fall on the treadmill.

Yes. Of course. He’s training me. He’s training you. These long days where the scenery never changes. These long days putting one foot in front of the other. These long days with nothing ahead but a wall. These long days alone. When we’re sweating and exhausted and getting nowhere at all … we’re training.

We’re getting stronger. We’re building endurance. We’re learning not to quit.

The scenery may never change, but we’re changing.

That’s why we run on a treadmill. Why we do the duties each day, choosing to delight instead of despise, because we choose to believe He’s changing us as we are faithful in the small things each day.

Oh sister, I know the Sacred Mundane can be hard. There’s no adrenalin rush in the trenches of life. I know it’s not exhilarating to run on a treadmill, alone, staring at a wall and getting nowhere. Doing the duties no one else sees and at the end of the day looking around and wondering, All that work … for what?

For faithfulness.

Because God is watching, sister. Because God is training you for His glory. Building endurance, building character, growing some choice fruit that can only grow in the shade.

When the scenery never changes, keep running.

When no one’s there to cheer, keep running.

When all that’s ahead is that same bleak wall, keep running.

When it seems you’re getting nowhere, keep running.

Race Day may come and you’ll be ready. Opportunity may knock and you’ll open that door. But most importantly, a day will come when you hear the most glorious words,

“Well done; you have been faithful with little things. Enter into My joy.”

Keep running.

—

{Feel like you’re running hard and getting nowhere today? Please know your sisters here are cheering you on. How can we pray for you? Please let us know  … thanks for reading!}

From Kari Patterson, Sacred Mundane

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