The workout with the trainer was intense. My shirt was sagging, overwhelmed by my sweat. My body ached as if it was anticipating my next move. Even as I stood still, my muscles twitching randomly as I gently refilled my water bottle. Everything within was screaming that I had pushed them too far. While I felt good about the intensity and movements, I realized that I needed to continue to push myself if I was going to have any chance of achieving my goals.
“Are you hitting your targets?”
“Broadly, yes. I am struggling to push myself harder.”
“Do you want to take it to the next level?”
“I do not know if I can right now.”
“Do you want help?”
I would have thought that my actions indicated that I was open to and looking for help. Getting into the gym four or more days a week, intense workouts, and booking time to work out with someone with a lot more expertise than I have should send the right message. If I was not sure, I asked questions. I listened to answers and advice. I know I want help.
The question remained, “Do you want help?”
I realized the question had two levels to it. On the surface, the obvious question was the question. Did I want help? The real question was buried within. Did I really, really want help? Was it desperately important to me? Was it a high priority? Did I want help?
It is not the first time the question has been asked. I can think back across my life, hearing the echoes of questions asked and answered in different ways. As I reflect on the question posed, I am struck that I know the answer within my heart even if I am unsure of exactly what to say. When I find the words, I know it will paraphrase David’s answer as he wrestled with the question in a divine context. “God, don’t just watch from the sidelines. Come on! Run to my side!” (Psalm 71.12) Yes, yes, and YES!
