I recently “graduated” from physical therapy. With a chronically gimpy ankle that resulted from an injury in 1988, I felt the need to have it looked at again, which led to a number of visits to see the “physical terrorist.” The PT designed a sequence of humbling, humiliating, deviously simple yet almost impossible to complete exercises for me to undertake at the facility and then repeat at home. My wobbly ankle, exposed as weak by these ridiculously uncomplicated exercises, gradually grew stronger and more stable after eight visits.
One day as I was “going through my paces,” I used exercises for my soul as well, looking through the eyes of Jesus at my heart. I discovered places where I have grown lazy, where I have allowed lethargy to creep in. The classical spiritual disciplines became my exercises once again, revealing how I had grown weak. Through repetitive exercise—doing simple things—I am rediscovering the strength I formerly knew. It is not my own strength that I am finding; it is the strength of Jesus working in me.