my kingdom go

“Before we can pray, ‘Lord, Thy Kingdom come,’
we must be willing to pray, ‘My kingdom go.’”

— Alan Redpath

I spent last week visiting the Joni and Friends Area Ministry in Missouri. What a week. And what a reminder of the gift of being unnecessary. All you have to do is spend time with kids and families impacted by special needs and your little kingdom crumbles.

A few days before leaving for Missouri, I took Loretta to see Hugh Jackman perform at the Hollywood Bowl. Of all the great songs he performed, one song from The Greatest Showman makes its way into today’s entry. “Towers of gold are still too little, these hands could hold the world but it’ll never be enough for me.” In light of Heaven, this world will never be enough. Our little kingdoms won’t come.

Bless God, what a gift it is to be unnecessary. God doesn't need our muscle, our grit or our flex. He doesn't need anything. He's God. We...are the needy ones.

More than we need to crush our goals, we need to be crushed by His grace. A thousand times more than we need to beat yesterday's best, we need to remember that it is already finished. Yes, my kingdom go. Please, just go.

God, please rearrange our workouts around You this week. Let each rep, each mile, each stretch be a note in a symphony of praise; one that's pleasing to You. Help us remember that while our bodies have some value, the muscle we build on earth carries no weight in Heaven. Please let our workouts be forgettable, and may our daily feats be nothing more than measly, measurable reminders that You gave us limits. We need You. We love You. Amen.

- Jimmy Peña

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For Discussion: God gave us the gift of being unnecessary. This is us opening that gift. A show of hands for those that need to be forgettable this week.

Behind the Logo: For those that follow us on social media, you may have noticed some changes in logo and the use of my favorite number 2. Well, it’s our second gear. The second chapter of PrayFit - if you will - as we are about to launch an entirely new phase of the ministry. I can’t put into words my excitement. The theme verses for the new era come from Ecclesiastes 4:9-12. “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up….Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves….”

To celebrate the upcoming launch of the new side of the website, I’d like to share the beginnings of our new line of merchandise. I think you’ll dig them. Available for pre-order, with all proceeds going to benefit kids and families impacted by special needs.

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We Are The Body

Help Change Lives. Visit The Store.

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The Comfort of Atrophy

Atrophy: The gradual decline in muscle; to waste away.

I first learned of the word back in college while sitting around the lunch table with my fellow lifting buddies. A novice weightlifter, I was growing like a weed. I remember thinking - wait, no - I remember knowing that the work and food I was putting to use in one week would be seen the next. It was just a natural mindset, and as it turns out, it was the only way to train, to think, to grow. I did nothing short of declare war with my humanity. Four years later, 18-inch arms and squatting small homes were testaments to that truth. But then...

Not sure when exactly, but over the years and through the heartache of illness I began to lose what I worked so hard for; a thought that would have crushed my younger self. (If you train, you feel me. You know what I'm talking about.) But the body has some amazing ways of pointing us to eternity. Atrophy is one of them. And what a comfort atrophy has become. Indeed, if atrophy had its own verse, it just may be 1 Timothy 4:8, "For physical training is of some value, but training in godliness has value now and in the life to come."

Oh yes, if there's a bodily trait that should remind us to be thankful for grace, it's atrophy, especially if you consider 1) the amount of work it takes to gain muscle and 2) how quickly it disappears if left untrained for whatever reason.

Thankfully - unlike our frail flesh - grace requires no work on our part, no diligence, no steadfast effort. Does it induce those things in our lives? Yes, but are they necessary to sustain it? No. And as I navigate my health and limitations and push hard against the naturally occurring decline, I'm simultaneously reminded of (and comforted by) God's age-defiant, atrophy resistant, eternally resilient grace. Guys, the smaller I get, the sweeter He grows. 

- Jimmy Peña

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For Discussion: Friends, we're vapors. We're quickly fading flowers. But isn't it something that when the last muscle to go, the heart - where grace makes its home - can no longer sustain us, grace will have only just begun. That’s the comfort of atrophy.

Finally: I think that’s why I am so humbled about PrayFit becoming more and more an advocate for disability ministry. As we embark upon the next chapter - chapter 2 if you will - I’d love to know if anyone would be willing to reach out to me as a potential ambassador - a page-turner - of the effort? This is unlike anything we’ve ever done. Pretty neat stuff ahead. There will be some promotion and awareness in a few weeks, but quietly I’d like to take your pulse. You can reach out to me directly by emailing [email protected]. When you reach out, I’ll be in touch with my heart and thoughts.

My Fighting Self

Waking up this morning, I was tempted to wallow. I woke up today fighting my self.

The self is that opponent I seldom slug. I pull my punch. I love him too much. But even when I do knock him down, he is never out. Inevitably, out of my periphery I see him getting up off the canvas. He is relentless. He is as unwelcome to me as a sunrise to the sleepless. I would know.

What's more, there are no neutral corners with him. It’s not like he can’t hear the bell. He ignores it. He won't stay down. And like a seasoned sparring partner, he knows my soft targets.

Self-pity: My sin; my guilt; my fits of anxiety and my bouts of depression; my loss of health, fitness, dignity; those are the fast jabs. Those are the blows that hit me swiftly and quickly each day. While they don't floor me, they hurt as deeply as any. (Even as I type this sentence, they make my eyes water.)

Self-promotion: Oh how I want to humbly brag. I long for attention, demand respect, and crave the credit. I want to compare resumes, accomplishments and influence. Waving my arms, “Look at me!” Don't forget me. I've been on those shows, featured in those magazines. My sin makes me want to be regarded and rewarded. (I still want a name for my self.)

Self-righteousness: As if because I toe the line on various matters in the fitness industry I can think highly of myself, I privately judge and quietly pat my back. Even typing that sentence seems to satisfy me in ways I know aren't godly. (I should throw in the towel, because my good works are rags.)

I could go on. The fearsome battle rages. If only I could simply tell my self that I've had enough. But that would not be enough. Watch this. Tozer says, "Self is the opaque veil. It can only be removed by spiritual experience. The veil is made of living tissue. It's made of the quivering stuff of which our whole beings consist, and to touch it is to touch us where we feel pain. To tear it away is to injure us, to hurt us and to make us bleed. To say otherwise is to make the cross no cross, and death no death at all. We must bring our self-sins to the cross for judgement. It is never fun to die."

That's the fight. As I grapple, it's deeply satisfying to think of the day when my self will no longer dare raise his fists.

That's the fight. That by His grace we are set free, forgiven, saved, delivered and healed. That's why we get up again to mix it up in the middle. Grace doesn't make us soft. Gentle, thankful, grateful but not soft. It doesn't give our self a break. 

That's the fight. That as we thank God for food, shelter, clean water, the gift of fitness (or illness), motivation, working limbs and muscles that respond, we thank Him most for going the distance. For loving us that much. For seeing beyond our faults and meeting our direst need.

Someday it will come naturally for us. Until then, we do what isn't. We put up our dukes. We bring our self to the cross.

- Jimmy Peña

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For Discussion: What are you grateful for today? What are you thankful for as you fight your fight? Clean water? Sober children? Forgiving spouses? Healed illness? Or maybe your thankfulness isn't nestled in any of these, but in knowing Heaven will make sense of earth? Love to know.

Crossroads of Identity

Hey everyone,

Something neat happened. The good folks at Joni & Friends asked me to write an entry on their blog. The topic of the week was identity as it relates to suffering, injury and illness. I also contributed to the podcast. Likely one of the most humbling and daunting tasks I’ve ever attempted. Joni, of course, is the founder of Joni & Friends and has been a quadriplegic for 5 decades and likely the most remarkable person I’ve ever known. Would you do me a huge favor? Head over to their site and check it out. Here’s the link. I’ve called it: The Crossroads of Identity. It would mean so much to me. https://www.joniandfriends.org/suffering-the-loss-of-identity-and-discovering-wholeness-in-god/

Thank you everyone. Tell them Jimmy sent you…
- Jimmy

Protecting Respect

“It is he who commands the respect I protect...
”

A few years ago in D.C., one of the most important sites I promised to show Loretta was the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. And while I described the scene to her prior to our arrival -- much like the case of this entry -- she'll tell you I didn't do it justice. If you're unfamiliar, the Tomb of the Unknown is a monument in dedication to the services of an unidentified soldier and to the common memories of all soldiers killed in any war. And it's guarded. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is guarded by sentinels, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, and under any weather condition. Sentinels -- all volunteers -- are considered to be the best of the elite 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment.

The amazing process is breathtaking to watch. He takes 21 steps, stops and pauses for 21 seconds, turns and marches another 21 steps. To and fro, back and forth with the utmost precision, and he doesn't stop his duty until another sentinel arrives to relieve him. The changing of the guard deserves an entry by itself. Unbelievable.

The tomb has been guarded with such reverence every second -- day and night -- since 1937. But what I find so motivating and thrilling is just exactly what they're protecting. And here begins the lesson.

Buried inside the Sentinel's Creed is a line that jumps off the page to me, and one I hope we can all apply to the body God gave us. It says, "I will walk my tour in humble reverence to the best of my ability. It is he who commands the respect I protect...This soldier will - in honored glory - rest under my eternal vigilance."

Maybe it's just ‘sentimental me,’ but these men march day and night in humble dedication and service, not to protect the marble tomb or the manicured lawn. No, they're protecting respect. (Read that sentence again, slowly.) What does it mean to protect respect? And can anyone reading this sentence apply that to the duty you and I have about our health, our illness, or to those with special needs?

It's something, isn't it? They've dedicated a life of allegiance because of every soldier who's ever filled a tomb. We've committed our lives because of an empty one. And in humble reverence, it is He who commands the respect we protect.

--Jimmy Peña

For Discussion: The scene is dripping with so much symbolism, I can't quite type, but when we consider our lives -- our impact on others, our personal calling, our ability to share Christ -- it's an awesome reminder that our health and our sufferings are significant to the Kingdom. Our temporary diligence has eternal consequences. Friends, all I hope is that my effort in life and limits and frailty - and in caring for the dignity and respect for those with disabilities - is a worthy salute that brings God glory; one that humbly says this soul is guarded.

The Suffering Saint

“Suffering is spiritual warfare.”

— Paul Tripp

“Suffering is spiritual warfare,” says Paul Tripp. Why? Because you are not a machine.

“If something dysfunctions in a machine,” he says, “the machine feels no sadness, doesn’t worry, doesn’t question beliefs, doesn’t wish for the life of another machine and has no concern for what the future holds.”

He’s No Machine
You and I are not machines. Despite my delusions of strength, if you’ve suffered, you’re well aware that suffering isn’t bound to its epicenter. The ripple effect and its incremental outward expansion goes beyond the physical origin and reaches well outside the target. Amid the tough stuff of life, you’ve likely been sad, worried, you’ve questioned God or you’ve longed for a do-over. And you’ve probably wondered whether or not it will “always be like this” and if there’s hope for a normal future. If you haven’t, I have.

So has Kevin Scahill.

Kevin is no machine. More than 2 decades ago, Kevin was driving the streets of Dallas - the same streets he patrolled as a seasoned police officer - when his car was hit by a semi truck. His daughter walked away with a few stitches; Kevin, a traumatic brain injury.

His speech is muddled, his breathing is labored, and his posture is as straight as a question mark. Wrapped with a makeshift brace that begins around his ankle and attaches to his belt loop, his right leg wants to go one way while his left leg is determined to go another. You and I will take 10 steps before he takes two.

The Suffering Saint
I met Kevin at the Joni & Friends Family Retreat in Texas where families impacted by special needs travel for hours and even days in some cases to hang with friends, worship together, relax, go fishing, play games, learn about Jesus and just have a blast. Kevin, however, isn’t a camper. He’s a volunteer leader. He’s a servant; a humble, sweet, God-fearing, Gospel-dropping, suffering saint. The spiritual warfare he’s involved in is so palpable that the friendly fire inside his heart strays to reach my pride and defeats it on impact. The longer I live and the more mistakes I make, the more I realize it’s impossible to be proud in the presence of the humble.

As we stood together and welcomed families to camp, the only thing higher than the Texas heat was the energy coming from the crew of volunteers. As they line-danced to ‘Footloose’ in exuberant anticipation of their guests, Kevin turned to me and with beads of sweat dripping from his brow he said through the noise, “Jimmy, I don’t want to elevate her, and I don’t want to lower Christ, but Joni Eareckson Tada is the closest thing to Jesus I have ever known.”

Gulp. (Pull it together, Peña.)

The Real Battle
Each morning before 7:00am prayer, Kevin could be found swimming his laps and doing his therapy. In fact, over the course of the last twenty years, he’s learned how to breathe, to eat, to stand, to talk, and to walk; and all for the second time. And yes, he’s learned how to fight. By God’s grace, he stands toe-to-toe with suffering and doesn’t flinch.

I used to think that the battle raged within reps and between sets; through pumps and progress and through the welcomed blood, sweat and tears of grit. Not so. That kind of battle is a masquerade party under the guise of pain and punishment, so write this down. If you look forward to it, it’s not suffering.

I’ve said it before, but angels don’t rejoice when we reach our fitness goals. They rejoice when a lost person chooses Christ. Truth is, the Apostle Paul disciplined his body like an athlete - not to turn heads - but to change hearts. It’s warfare. And from experience, real suffering attacks the heart and goes for the soul. I’ve met a warrior who isn’t going to let that happen.

- Jimmy Peña

QUESTION: Know any warriors? Any suffering saints that have made an impact on your life? Please name someone here and we’ll thank God for them and pray for them.

I'm Happy

So, I was walking back to my car last week from getting some lunch when I heard a man ask, “Are you sad or happy?” He was collecting shopping carts from people in the parking lot. Wearing an apron and a Ralph’s supermarket cap, he approached shoppers as they transferred their groceries to their cars and each time he repeated his question, “Are you sad or happy?”

I recognized him. He sits in the same spot every Sunday at church. He’s an adult with special needs. He’s maybe, fifty? “Yep, that’s him,” I said to myself. I’ve never seen him outside of church. I grinned a bit at the moment of recognition. He’s so sweet. During the “greet your neighbor moment” at church, he doesn’t say hello, but he gives a strong handshake, looks you square in the eye and says convincingly, “I’m happy.”

Well, anyway, I stood next to my car for what seemed like minutes watching him tour the parking lot in search of carts and answers. From what I could tell, everyone gave him their carts, but nobody responded to his question; probably because they didn’t expect it or they didn’t exactly catch it. Nevertheless, I shut my door and began walking his way. He didn’t ask me anything, but when I got close enough, I offered my hand and an answer. He didn’t recognize me I’m sure, but we shook on it. As if we had just agreed on a game plan, he simply nodded and said, “Yeah.”

With a lump in my throat, I nodded right back, turned and walked away.

HAPPY GRAMS:
Guys, I spent last week at the Joni & Friends Family Retreat in the great state of Texas. Over the course of the next few days, I’ll be sharing my thoughts about certain moments, but in short, I’m a mess.

See, Family Retreat is an opportunity for kids and families that are impacted by disabilities to converge and submerge themselves in love and fun and games and Bible and worship and respite and joy. It’s unreal. What I write will pale in comparison to the experience, but you know me, I’ll try to take you there.

I’ll take you to meet Kevin. A former Dallas cop with a brain injury. I want his heart.

I’ll take you to meet Ryle. Spina bifida imprisons his little body, but his spirit no arena can hold.

I’ll take you to a welcome ceremony, a pirate’s play and a talent show. I’ll take you there. And I’ll introduce you to a small team of people leading the charge in Texas for kids and families impacted by special needs. I’ll take you to them. Then get ready.

If you’re looking for another reason to serve, to train, to hard-charge the week, to eat right, to see your health or illness through the Gospel’s lens, to see through the suffering, I have one…I’m happy.

- Jimmy Peña

Deep in the heart of Texas:
For those of you on Instagram, if you don’t mind, do me a favor and follow my dear friends in Texas. Here’s the link. Joni & Friends Texas. It would mean so much to me.

2nd Gear
And thank you so much to those that commented on last week’s entry about our newest line of merchandise. So much in store with the new brand to benefit those impacted by disability. Grateful. This cap will go to someone that follows Texas. (Be sure to let me know in the comment section.) Have a good week everyone.

A Peace Offering

Peace. Lift two fingers in the air and you have its symbol.
Wave a white flag in the air and you make a plea.
Summits are held for it.
Deals are made in its name.
We want financial peace, peace of mind, peace and quiet.
But what about physical peace?

When I was the fitness director at Muscle & Fitness Magazine, peace had a price. Peace required blood, sweat and tears. Peace came with a pump. Peace ran with my two homies whose names were “Pain” and “Progress.” 

Years later, peace was stubborn. Peace hid his face. He knew his place and kept his own pace. Peace only came when the pain went away. Peace came when the surgery took, when the medicine worked, when the suffering ceased. 

This week's theme is about being at peace with everyone, if at all possible when it depends on us (Rom 12:18). And the body, our health - no matter the state - is a means by which we do that.

How we handle our gifts and abilities could produce that truce. Where we go in times of sickness is a chance at a treaty. Isn't that the real point? It really isn't about being at peace with my body. God-forbid I minimize the topic down to the preservation of self-acceptance or being comfortable in my own skin. But it's about me being at peace with every body.

Truth is, to be absent of the body is to be present with the Lord. Chew on that. The divine irony for the fitness-minded - as we battle gravity and decide who gets the glory when the byproducts are revealed - is that when we finally lose the skin we're in, we'll realize it.

The goal then, the impossible dream I suppose, is to engage with others wherever we train with them in mind. To live and love like Jesus in the fitness industry I'm convinced in many ways is to steward the body but be absent of it.

- Jimmy Peña

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Almost Ready: The new site is almost complete guys. I’m so excited and ready for the new chapter of PrayFit. Chapter 2, if you will. Thank you for your constant encouragement and for your patience. Anybody miss the devotions?? I think I’ve needed to write more than you’ve needed to read. :-)

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If you’re new to PrayFit, please be sure to follow us on social media and stay tuned for some updates. But mostly, if we come to mind, remember us in prayer. I appreciate it. (And psst…someone who has read this far down and who comments and shares this post on social media will get this cap.) How cool is that? Of course, it’s my favorite number and symbolizes this new era of PrayFit, but seriously, how neat is this?) I’m stoked. Hope you are…2.

A Racing Mind

Patrick Semansky/AP Photo

I couldn’t take my eyes off of #Bodexpress. As soon as the race began, I called downstairs for Loretta, because she needed to come watch this with me. “There’s a horse running without a jockey at The Preakness,” I said with elevating octaves of joy. I literally stood in my living room and with a lump in my throat I clapped with sincere hope. Such a sweet moment. Tears were inevitable.

While War of Will won the Preakness, Bodexpress won my heart and the hearts of millions. I fell back into my chair as exhausted as I was exhilarated. Deep sigh of happiness. It’s been a long time since I’ve watched a scene so awesome. He just wanted to run with this friends. He was like, “Hey guys, wait for me!” In fact, I remember noticing him being jumpy and jittery at the gate. He was trapped for a minute. But then…freedom.

Yesterday out of the blue, Gina Spivey, the Pastor of the special needs ministry at our church sent me a picture of my boy Jordan. He was - wait for it - standing next to a horse. Yep. The timing was surreal. Not sure the context of the pic. Not sure if he rode the horse or was merely there to walk him and care for him, but Jordan is trapped inside. Autism saddles his mind and reins his thoughts. I love him so much. He’s got the sweetest heart of any boy you’ve ever met.

Jordan and a buddy.

Many of you know I get to hang with him once a month, and every so often, it’ll happen. Jordan will look me square in the eye and with complete clarity he’ll say something or respond to something with absolute coherency and lucidity. As if waking from a dream, he’ll look at me inquisitively. Almost as if he was wondering how long I’d been sitting there. I can’t explain it, but he locks on to the topic. And when he does, I can’t take my eyes off of him. I delicately respond with a follow up and I’ll try to keep him on track before we change universes. But for just a split second, we have a typical conversation. As if for the briefest of moments, he’s free.

Sometimes moments of purity invite themselves into our world without notice, permission or apology. Those moments don’t always last.

Speaking of, Bodexpress evidently decided to run around the track one more time just for the fun of it. Eventually they caught up with him and escorted him back to his stall, but one more time around the track was just too irresistible.

Bodexpress after making a run for it.

Racing Thoughts:
You know, I doubt I’m ever closer to God than when I’m with Jordan. Not because of anything in me, but because if anything in life is pure, it’s found in the hearts and minds of kids with special needs. Don’t tell Gina, but Jordan and I take the toys out of the toy room, we slam the outside gate and sometimes throw things over the fence. And sometimes, when he’s smiling, jumping and giggling to himself, I like to think he’s just heard something that only he and God can hear, and I get to watch him run.

- Jimmy Peña

P.S.
For my money, I’d rather all the horses be set free, but I know that’s impossible. Even so, that’s how I want to live and how I want to serve the disability community. With reckless joy and power and enthusiasm. I’m about to start.

Hurry Heaven

“Your body, in some form, will last forever. God will remove all weakness and disease. It will be strong in heaven.”

— Max Lucado

Hurry Heaven.

You know, as I navigate disability ministry and learn the ins and outs of community, the depths of suffering, the need of donations and the idea of generosity, I wonder if I’ve ever truly been generous with my health. Seriously. I mean, being generous with our time is measurable. Being generous with our money is calculable. Being generous with our resources is tangible. But short of donating a kidney, what in the world does it mean to be generous with our health? How can stewardship of our bodies be a pathway to generosity? Is it not enough to lose a few pounds, build some muscle, increase endurance, lower blood pressure? Isn't that what brings glory to His grace?

Matt Chandler doesn't mince words here when he says, "I don't care how much you're in the gym, how chiseled your abs are, how much you can bench press, what you can squat...do you really think God is impressed with that? Nobody stands in front of Everest and is impressed with their physical form. You say, "I Crossfit." You can cross all you want bro, but do you think that the God that spoke the earth into being and put it as a tiny piece of His creation is impressed with your physical body that he calls it a sacrifice holy and pleasing to me? Please."

I tell ya, the more mistakes I make and the longer I try and help others renew their perspective of the body, the more I'm convinced that God wants my heart renewed by his grace and for me to obey his commands and love others.

Like those much wiser than me, I believe we were made to worship. But I have fooled many people over the course of my life into supposing that when I train "I'm worshipping." I've even written poems about it and published chart-topping books with chapters with said theme. And while I do know there have been times where that's been true, where my heart and mind have been in His presence as I perform a certain stretch or when I'm on the bike in tune to His will, I also know I'm full of nonsense in so many ways. And nobody knows it more than the God of the universe that I mock when I secretly, privately and oftentimes publicly glory in my own physical accomplishments. 

Truth is, God doesn't need my lift or my grit. He doesn't need my squat, my flexibility, my PR, my competitive heart. He doesn't need me. He doesn't need me strong, fast, thick, or thin. He doesn't need me lighter, quicker, more intense or less. He doesn't even need me around.

And yet somehow in his immeasurable grace and mercy He just wants me and loves me. He wants a relationship with me. He died on the cross and made the sacrifice for all my sins, so I don't have to work my way to Heaven, but I simply need to accept Him by grace through faith.

Which leads me a long way to the point of this entry. The most generous thing we can do with our health is offer it up as a living sacrifice because of the sacrifice He became for us. And our living sacrifice has NOTHING to do with our performance in some gym, how well we plan our meals, or in the byproducts of our diligence. But our living sacrifice has everything to do with hearts being changed by the grace of God and in the spiritual change that occurs with and through our bodies as a result.

God will glorify our bodies. That's not our job. Our job is to follow Jesus and encourage others to do the same, and "for the glory of God" we look after ourselves in the process. God cares more about our bodies than we do. He made them, He knows we need them and someday He'll heal them.

Hurry Heaven.

- Jimmy Peña

We Grow Weary

“For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands. We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing.”

— 2 Cor. 5:1-2 (NLT)

Like it says in the verse above, someday we'll have eternal bodies. My current aches, pains and restrictions are clear and present reminders of that hope. One day we’ll double over, not in pain, but in praise. One day, our knees won't crackle and our bones won't break. No more back problems or stomach aches. No more cancer, heart disease, diabetes or sore throats. One day.

Until then - like you - I will try and take care of my body, trusting God with the results as His gifts and my limits just the same. Doing both takes grace.

Friends, may you and I be a resource of comfort for the hurting and struggling, and a source of inspiration and motivation for those that see today - maybe for the first time - as a day to make bodily stewardship a means of praise. This temporary body carries the soul, so may how we treat it be a small, silent, humble way of showing respect for that honor.

May we deal with our debilitating ache and our private pain with an uncommon grace.

May our abilities and our disabilities, our personal records and our medical records, carry a message to the world that, although we grow weary, a new body is coming.

- Jimmy Peña

Child of Weakness

I recently saw a popular post on social media that read, "Strength is an inevitable side effect of effort." 

OKAY. Sounds good. Short. To the point. Strong. Inspirational. 

Buuuuuut…. at the risk of disagreeing with something that was so very popular, I have to ask...is it true?

Is strength inevitable?
Is growth guaranteed?
Is progress promised?

Despite what the fitness industry (and in some cases the "faith & fitness" industry) will want us to believe, rewards of this earth are not inevitable; especially those that require our physical effort.

Some say that God gives us mountains to show others they can be moved. Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that sometimes the mountain doesn’t budge. And I think how we handle that says more to the world then we may realize.

Now, take it from this old weightlifter. It’s not to say that strength, growth and progress aren't - at times and under certain conditions - byproducts. But they are - under every circumstance - on loan. Temporary treasures. Perishable gifts.

Like the mountain itself, as it turns out.

- Jimmy Peña

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For Discussion: Remember the lyrics of Jesus Paid It All? “I hear the Savior say, ‘thy strength indeed is small.”

Are you in a season of life that is helping you realize that? Then don’t forget the next line. “Child of weakness watch and pray, find in Me thine all in all.”

Leave me a comment below or simply say, “Unspoken” and I promise to lift you up. I’m a child of weakness, like you.

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UPDATE:
We are working behind the scenes on PrayFit’s next chapter; chapter 2 if you will. I think you’re going to like it. (Who wants this cap?) We have some neat things coming guys; all to benefit those impacted by special needs and disabilities.

What Will We Do?

“What will you do with Easter?”

— Paul Tripp

What a powerful question for us in the health and fitness industry. What will we do with Easter when the storms of life arise? What will we do with Easter on Monday when we get to the gym, or the studio, or the track?

What will we do when we're tempted to gloat, to boast, to pat ourselves on the back? What will we do?

What will we do when we get sick? Like, really sick. What will we do when our dreams of gains, of glorious pain, of wondrous work, when the welcome pursuit of fitness is denied us? What will we do?

What will we do when the status call on social media stokes our fear of missing out? What will we do with Easter?

What will we do when our loss of muscle, or our gain of bodyfat, our diminishing bone mass, elevated resting heart rate, our unrelenting atrophy, our irreversible disease progression, or our unmistakeable loss of strength testifies to the truth that we are made of dust, not iron. What will we do with Easter?

When we peer into the empty tomb of Easter this weekend, that's the lens through which everything else in life can be seen, even our bodies. And as fitness people, as hard-chargers, as iron-pushers, as mile runners, record-breakers, goal makers, and as broken-down, out-of-the-game lifters like me, the empty tomb is full of grace, and joy, and relief. The thought of His victory eternally exceeds our loss or gains in this vapor-quick life.

What will we do with Easter?

- Jimmy Peña

He Couldn't Move

I'm reminded this week of the countless Biblical examples of people who had physical reactions to Jesus, either to be near Him or because they had just been with Him. From the shepherds sprinting after hearing the news of His birth, to John leaping in his mother’s womb; so many people having physical reactions because of faith and as a gift of grace.

He just moves us.

But there was one person who didn't move a muscle.

The criminal had just been given Heaven. Every sin of his wasted years had been forgiven, his name had just been written in the lamb's book of life, and soon the angels would be teaching him to sing. And yet, despite this gift of grace and mercy, He didn't run to embrace Him. He didn't leap for joy, lift his hands in praise or kneel in worship. Why? Well, he couldn't move. See, the nails were too deep, the pain was too great. If he could've climbed down that cross, he probably would've demonstrated physically what his heart had experienced spiritually.

What about you? You may be 18 or 80, and Lord knows this brief life is not about the body, but if you've been given Heaven, do what the criminal couldn't and tell your body to react. Walk the block, serve the marginalized, help those impacted with disabilities. And by all means, kneel. Don't wait. Celebrate in this life the free gift of the next one.

--Jimmy Peña

Chapter 2:
Many of you know - either because of some hints I gave in a recent entry or because of some clues I’ve dropped on social media - that I’ve dedicated my life to disability ministry, and the things we’re assembling here on the site will enable us - and you - to do some really cool things together. I found my wheelhouse. I covet your prayers as we continue to build and remodel.

It’s funny, but today’s entry about the criminal on the cross is a repost of mine. I wrote it during a different phase of my life. Divine irony, actually, in that I serve at the pleasure of someone who can’t move her body, but has honored God with it unlike anyone I’ve ever met. More about her in time. But the truth is, physical stewardship doesn’t end in a flex, but with a stoop. May that be the legacy of PrayFit.

Queensboro Bridge

Queensboro Bridge. 

Halfway through the 2011 New York City Marathon is both where this entry was written, and where my race actually began. Nearly two months of ultrasound and countless hours of therapy weren't enough to convalesce my troubled hamstring, which unbeknownst to me was a precursor to a more severe, undetected infirmity. And with 12 miles -- or roughly 24,000 steps left to go -- the grand, lofty notion of taking just one more was in question. So I wrote this entry.

In as much time as it took a thousand runners to pass me by, I wrapped my leg in a makeshift tourniquet using stored gauze and as many white flags as I could find in my heart. If there's one thing this most novice of runners quickly realized on that bridge, was that the next step was as necessary as the eventual stride that would be needed to cross the finish line.

I thought of that old bridge this past weekend as so many people in our community and across the country sacrificed a sacred Saturday to walk and run a few miles in the 2nd Annual PrayFit 5K. After all, they didn’t have to. They could have ignored the invitation. They could have reasoned that someone else would do it; someone with more time or someone with more energy could help. They could have given at the office.

But instead, they chose. They chose to set their alarms, ignore the snooze and lace up their shoes. For a few hours on Saturday, they helped turn a church parking lot into Olympic Stadium.

Thank you, friends. Thank you for rising to the occasion to help so many kids and families affected by special needs. We’ll post images and memories of the day very soon - and I will likely write about some of the stories I came across - but for me to fully express my gratitude would be like asking me to high jump the moon; impossible. But don’t think I wouldn’t try.

(Oh, and I don’t have a date set for next year’s race, but….we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.)

- Jimmy Peña

Gospel Hope

So, I started a new book. I realize of course that I say that with the kind of casualness you’d assume as if you’ve been carrying on a conversation with a good friend and a good meal. If I let it play out, you’ve just started a new bite and I’m finishing mine. A white napkin across my lips and I say, it’s called, “Suffering” by Paul Tripp. You say, “Oh yeah? How is it?” “As advertised on its cover,” I reply, “it’s gospel hope when life doesn’t make sense.” You nod in polite agreement. I take another bite.

Paul Tripp as some of you may know is a speaker, writer and pastor. He also got hit with something that prevented him from doing any of that. As I read his book, I often feel like he’s plagiarized not only my writing but my life. “I was proud of my physical fitness and confident in the healthiness of my body. I was proud too that because I was physically strong, I was able to be productive. I traveled every weekend to conferences and wrote book after book in between. I look back now and see that I lived with assessments of invincibility. I was not a young man, but I felt like I was at the top of my game. Health and success are intoxicating but also vulnerable.”

In the book of Job, he writes…

““How frail is humanity! How short is life, how full of trouble! We blossom like a flower and then wither. Like a passing shadow, we quickly disappear. A person’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.””

— Job 14: 1-2,5

What a verse. What truth.

I'm sentimental, of course, but bodily stewardship is truly an ever-growing tension for me; as if each ticking second of the clock beside me as I type this sentence represents the irreversible loosening stitch of the fabric of my physical self, and in essence, the tearing apart of my being.

When I got sick a few years ago, my grasp of my mortality tightened and my sensitivity to the brittleness of my body heightened. I came face-to-face with a certain truth. That my physical limit wasn't my personal best; like some passing bench press (405lb.) or my squat (550lb.); imposters disguised as my potential. I list them only to help illustrate that those mountain-top moments didn't represent my personal best. No, the most strenuous minute I've ever filled came when I realized I would never attempt to best them.

Some of you have filled similar minutes.
The doctor’s prognosis;
the unexpected phone call;
the uncertain reality of loss.

Paul Tripp describes it this way: “Here’s what happens in times of suffering. When the thing you’ve been trusting is laid to waste, you don’t suffer just the loss of that thing; you also suffer the loss of the identity and security that it provided.”

(Yeah. I know, right?)

Frankly, nobody reading this sentence - or anyone who ever lived for that matter - has ever physically traveled beyond their God-given limits. Nobody. Read the verse above again if need be. And while that might be a slap in the face to the motivational speaker who claims we can push beyond them, the truth is, we never exceed our limits. We merely - if rarely - find them. And I like to think, like Job realized, that in finding our limits, we meet God.

- Jimmy Peña

(I press my plate away from me and you do the same. The waiter asks if we’d care for anything else. “Coffee?” he suggests. We both agree it’s a good idea.)

Time To Give Up

As you'll soon see, we love this time of year. Longer days, better weather, and of course, baseball, all help put a spring in my step. Maybe you're the same? It's just a good time of the year for fresh starts and new beginnings. Which always reminds me of what Louie Giglio once said, "For Lent, I'm giving up."

Naturally, we think there's something missing from his sentence. Um, Louie? You forgot something buddy. When in truth, "period" is exactly what should come next. As we begin the Lenten season, let's remember that it's all about Jesus and what He did for us; not about what we can do, give up, commit to, or accomplish. (Or about our failure to succeed at any of that.) Nothing to prove, nothing to lose, nothing to hide.

I just finished ready the book, "The Freedom of Self-Forgetfulness" by Tim Keller. What an incredible, powerful read. The message of the book has been playing a big part in my life lately in that - like Paul - we can have a low opinion of the opinion of others about us, but we can also have a low opinion of our opinion of us. I'll distill the book down to this: Paul didn't let other people judge him and he didn't even judge himself. He didn't connect his sins to himself, but he didn't connect his accomplishments to himself either. He was free. I want that kind of self-forgetfulness. That's what I want for Lent.

- Jimmy Peña

Discussion: The pressure isn't just off - it's non-existent. How does that help you prepare your heart for the Easter season? If part of your heart's preparation is indeed physical, as part of obedience and humble stewardship, will your commitments to healthier choices take on new meaning? Will it help shape not only the goals you set, but how you prepare and execute them? Or forgetting the physical changes, maybe you're just ready to give up trying to always be seen or applauded? Maybe you're ready to give up striving, competing, comparing, being noticed? If so, there's freedom when you do. Just remember. Lent is a heart issue, because when Jesus said, "It is finished," it was and still is. Aren't we glad we don't have to measure up? (And that actually makes me want to work harder in all areas of life. Isn't that incredible?)

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Helping Those Impacted By Disability

The 2nd Annual PrayFit 5K is right around the corner. For those not in L.A, please hurry and help us and sign up for the VIRTUAL element. Sponsored by KKLA, KLOVE, JYM, Joni & Friends and more, you can walk, jog or run your block or hit your treadmill in support of our cause. By race day, you’ll have your official shirt and medal. Isn’t that neat? Click HERE and register now!

Run With Me

"Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us." --Hebrews 12:1

As you may have read on some of the posts, I love to run. And while I’m no elite runner, I simply enjoy competing against myself and always try to beat my best times. Before my last race, I told Jimmy, “Even if I beat it by one second I’ll be happy.” Well, on mile No. 9, I began to fatigue and I knew by my watch that I was at risk of not running my best race. At that moment, someone ran up beside me and asked me what time I was shooting for. I told him I wanted to beat 1:57. He said “Okay let’s do it. That's the pace I want to keep."

We pushed each other through miles 10, 11 and 12. At mile 13, I yelled to my new friend “Let’s go, we’re almost there!” As I crossed the finish, I heard Jimmy call my name and first thing I asked him was, “What was my time?” Jimmy was set up to receive texts alerts so he knew right away. He looked up at me and said with a smile, "1:56!" I was so happy. I beat my time, and yes, it was by one second! At that very moment, my new friend and running partner ran up to me and gave me a big, sweaty hug. He told me this was his first race ever, and he simply wanted to get under the two-hour mark. He was ecstatic that he was able to do it.

You know, I can’t tell you how much that meant to me. He picked me (of all the other runners) to help him in his first race. And in doing so, he helped me with mine. Maybe it's Jimmy rubbing off on me, but it was neat for a "run" to remind me of my "walk." In today’s verse it reads, “and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.”  Well that’s my heart's desire. I hope in everything I say and do I’m running in such a way as to be like Christ, just in case someone wants to run with me.

–-Loretta Peña

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Walk, Run and Roll with Us: Team PrayFit is working hard toward the PrayFit 5K & 1-Mile Walk-N-Roll on March 30 to benefit kids impacted by special needs. Please sign up. You can participate virtually, walk/run solo or form teams. Everyone across the country gets medals and t-shirts for signing up.

PER2PECTIVE

Preparing for the PrayFit 5K on March 30, the team is actively going over all the details. In fact, the heavy rain in California reminds me of the time Loretta ran the Big Sur Marathon in Central Cal. Big Sur is arguably one of the most difficult -- and beautiful -- marathons in the country. Known for it's brutal hills as much as its breathtaking views, if there's one race to run each year, this is it. But a month prior to the race, the runners were notified that due to landslides and weather, the course would need to change.

So the day before the race, thousands of runners met to get the new information and to participate in a group Q&A. You could actually feel the apprehension and tension in the air, as thousands of healthy lungs held their breath.

After all, running a marathon is tough enough, but an untested course? That's another thing altogether. But it wasn't until the race director himself took the podium that the atmosphere changed and oxygen was allowed back into the room. With one brief phrase, chaos turned to calm. "I've run the course," he said. "It's tough, it's beautiful, but it's ready for you."

His perspective became our peace.

Much like Big Sur, the course of our marathon day is unpredictable. But God knows the course. It's tough, it's beautiful. But because of Him, we're ready for it. May His perspective be our peace.

- Jimmy Peña

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ABOUT THE RACE on MARCH 30th: Benefitting kids affected by disability, the 2nd Annual PrayFit 5K & 1-Mile Walk-N-Roll will again be hosted by Calvary Community Church in beautiful Westlake Village, California and is certified by the USA Track & Field Association. The registration comes with finisher medals, t-shirts and age group awards for the 5K. The 5K is chipped timed. Hurry and register.

(Not local? GO VIRTUAL! We need you. All those registered - LOCAL AND ACROSS THE COUNTRY - receive medals and t-shirts.)

Pictured below is Brandon. Brandon was shaken as a baby and it permanently damaged his spinal cord. He’s nonverbal.

He finished the mile.

Numbered Days of Grace (TAKE 2)

Thank you, Lord, for my life, my wife, family, friends, my job, my health, my body. Thank you that you've numbered my days. Whereas when I was younger that truth seemed limiting, these days it's liberating. As the years claim their increase on me, so does my dependence on you. Thank you for another year to try and live like you and love like you. Your grace amazes me. And thank you for enough health to keep fighting the good fight. Thank you that the fire you lit in my belly is still burning. Again, your grace still amazes me. Where some may think that faith grows when physical goals are achieved, my faith in you is increasing with every goal I can't reach. 

Please bless each reader. Please bless their health and the health of their loved ones. Here's to 47, Lord. You gave it to me. I'll do my best to give it back. Help me grow in your grace. So very Amen.

- Jimmy Peña

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Birthday Dedication: For some of you, this makes ten; 10 years of seeing health and illness through the Gospel’s lens with me. I was 37 years old when I wrote my first devotion. Wow. In some ways I feel younger than the math would report, but in other ways I'd say the math seems just about right.

Like I did last year, I’m dedicating my birthday to the PrayFit 5K event on March 30, but I need your help. For my birthday, I'm hoping 47 people will sign up VIRTUALLY for this event. So, whether you’re in Texas or Florida, Oklahoma or New York City, you can participate. You can walk your neighborhood, jog on the treadmill or rally some friends for a group run, and all of the proceeds go to benefit kids and families impacted by disabilities.

Be a part of something special with me. Whether you’re solo or a part of a group, if you sign up, I’ll send you a t-shirt and an official medal that you’ll have on race day. Can I get 47 people? Will you help us? Just click HERE and register. That's a good birthday present. (Special Discount Code for $10 Off Fee: 10OFF2019)