On improving my flexibility

There is a double meaning in that headline, so hang on tight.

I’m in the middle of a running sabbatical brought on by shin splints. I’ve never had shin splints before so I was hesitant to label my lower leg pain as such. But after consulting my chiropractor about it (and making sure nothing was fractured), she confirmed that it was likely that I had shin splints and said I needed to stop running for at least two weeks, maybe four. My spirit was crushed because I’ve never not run for more than a week in the last seven years. This is what I do. Whether it’s a quick two miles or a lengthy 10-miler, I run every week. To NOT run is not only hard on my body but it’s increasingly hard on my brain. Regular runners will know what I mean.

While still evaluating me, which included stretching my legs all over the room to capacity, my chiropractor mentioned, “You’re really inflexible. Your hamstrings are pretty bad.”

I defended my hamstrings by telling her they’ve always been that way and I personally think they were made too short. I’m ten feet tall, after all. My hamstrings are doing their best. She dismissed my excuses and said I needed to spend this running sabbatical stretching and doing yoga, because, “You need to be more flexible.”

Now let’s switch gears.

When I started my Lenten journey last week, I made a promise to God and myself that I would keep an open mind. Whatever He was going to teach me, I was going to roll with it. I wouldn’t dismiss anything off the bat, nor would I just accept something because. To do this, I’ve given myself a few parameters, the first being that I will only read books that are thought-provoking, a little controversial, or uncomfortable. Nothing warm and fuzzy, because I’ve had a lot of warm and fuzzy and those lessons were not long-lasting.

I’m currently reading Selling Water by the River by Shane Hipps. Wouldn’t you know there was all this stuff about flexibility.

The difficulty with the Christian religion is that our institution is centered on the person of Jesus, and Jesus consistently undermined the natural inertia of institutions. He was the embodiment of pure, unbridled creative force.

Creativity is often disruptive. It has little interest in preservation; it is about making new things and making things new. Creation by nature is always expanding, growing, and unfolding. Jesus upends, revives, and restores the malleability of our rigid religions.

I lived in California for a few years. I learned that the best way to prevent an earthquake from destroying a building is to construct the building so that it can sway and swoon, bend and wobble. Make a foundation of the building less rigid and it will ride the earthquake rather than try to resist it. The building is designed to go with the flow.

The same is true of our religion – what doesn’t bend may break. This simple lesson in physics applies to even our souls. The ability to bend and flex matters. We might say blessed are the flexible for they won’t get bend out of shape.

(page 38, emphasis mine)

Well, hello God. Here you are stretching my mind just like we agreed. Like my hamstrings, the religious section of my brain has spent years in limited flexibility, and like my ¬†hamstrings, I’m going to give it a little more attention.

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