Runner's High for the second time.

Last night, I went for a run, following the setting sun into the Western frontier and all that, and the sky was just beautiful.  The colors here, as Amy and I marvel at time and again, are consistently unbelievable (sounds like an oxymoron, I know).  As I ran, I noticed that I'd reached a point where I didn't feel the pain anymore, and I recalled the first time that had happened.

I was running to work one morning in Rwanda, my iPod in my ear, looking pretty outlandish to the locals, and it was shuffling from one song about the Gospel to another.  I was getting pretty excited, and I remember thinking "I don't think I can usually run this fast, this long."  Well, I did.  And I passed Kim and Trigger as they were walking, and I said something that made them respond in a way that said I was not acting normal, especially for someone running in the morning that close to the Equator.

The same things was going on this time.  Ipod in, Jars of Clay blasting my eardrums, and I was thinking about the chapel presentation I'm giving tomorrow.  But I was listening to these songs about running away from Someone who just wants to love me, and I kept thinking, "Why do I always concentrate on the harshness of the Gospel?  The truth is grace and freedom!"

I don't think it's just because I was having runner's high for the second time that I thought that; I think God was really trying to remind me that the Sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath:

Eternity is a gift for us, and that truth is fundamental to understanding before you start thinking about sacrificing all of yourself.