training – Grits with Grace

birthday, Easter, food, life, pride, priorities, Scripture, Trials

Igor

Posted on January 3, 2025December 26, 2024 by Dewayne Taylor

“For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.” James 1:3

His name was Jason…I called him Igor. It was a long time ago and it was one of those times when it was time to do something. The high humidity in my closet had once again shrunk most of my clothes. It is just one of the hazards of living in Southern Illinois between the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. While it is always the worst in summer, somehow, it manages to shrink my clothes right after the holidays too. So, rather than go out and buy new duds, I just try and lose a few pounds.

One Sunday morning at church I mentioned to a good friend of mine that I was going to try and shed a few pounds. Well, he said to me, “Dewayne, I’ve got a personal trainer at the gym and how about if I arrange for you to see him three times a week. By Easter, you will be a new man.” I had never seen, much less had, a personal trainer, so it sounded like a good idea to me. Maybe he could speed up the weight loss so I could get back to my bad eating habits…that I greatly enjoyed.

For my birthday, Judy and I drove over to Evansville on a mission to get me a couple of sets of gym clothes. We got to Sears, and they had what used to be called running suits on sale. That’s what they used to call them. Now they call them obsolete. Anyway, I bought one. It had the pants and the jacket, and I looked like, well, a dude. I was to start working out with Jason, the trainer, on Monday. I put on my fancy running outfit and drove over to the gym. I opened the door and instantly realized that I was way overdressed. Remember the joke about the guy being told that he was going to a costume party, so he dressed up and nobody else did? Well, I was that guy. Bummer.

I soon met Jason and he kinda explained what we would be doing over the next few months. He explained that he was going to make my body hurt…a lot. Well, he didn’t actually say that but that was the reality. After our first workout on the first day I could barely walk to my car. The next morning, I wasn’t sure I was going to live. Fortunately, I was meeting with Jason every other day, so I had a day to decide if I was going to live or not. By the end of the week, I had changed Jason’s name to Igor because I was sure he got some sort of sick pleasure out of watching me suffer. And I did suffer…a lot.

Over our time together, we did lots of fun things, but my absolute favorite was squat thrusts. It was some kind of deal when you squatted down and then kicked your legs out the back. Then you returned to the squat position before standing back up. I’ve obviously never had a baby, so I have no idea what labor pains feel like. But I do know this. If leg squats are even 20% like a labor pain, then if the repopulation of the world depended on me it would be a very small world. Total population: One.

Well, I don’t remember making it to Easter. Things did get toned up a bit, but I wouldn’t exactly say I was a new man. I did get a new perspective on these guys and ladies who go to the gym and apply self-inflicted Igor-ism. That is the self-infliction of Igor like pain on themselves. You’ve got to admire them—but as for me that would be from outside the torture chamber—uh, I mean gym.

Now there is one thing I need to make sure is clear. Igor, I mean Jason, had my best interest in mind. He was trying to help me reach my goals and help me be in better physical condition. It just wasn’t a pleasant experience…at least not on the front end anyway. But do you know what? Rarely are the things that really matter. I know the Bible teaches me that trials are not easy, and they are never fun, but they are profitable because they teach me endurance. That’s what James, Jesus’ little half-brother, meant when he said that when our faith is tested, our endurance has a chance to grow. Going through the hard stuff strengths our faith. And, trust me, that is a good thing.

Shortly after I quit going to be with Igor at the gym, I ran into him at one of the stores in town. When I ran into him, I wanted to run from him. But we chatted and he asked how I was doing. I said fine. He said he missed seeing me at the gym, and I made some kind of flimsy excuse, like I had a rare terminal African disease. I don’t think he bought it. So, we parted our ways. I was grateful for his help, but I was also grateful that my gym days were over. I’ve just got to be sure I don’t give up on my real personal trainer—Jesus. Like Jason knew what was best to help me physically, He knows what is best for me spiritually. He encourages me, always has my best interests at heart, and never makes a wrong call. He allows me to pace myself and allows me to rest when I need it. He’s the best life trainer of all. And I know this for certain. If I falter or fail, He will always be there because, He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, friends, life, priorities, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Cross Country

Posted on December 13, 2022December 4, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

Don’t you know that the runners in a stadium all race, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way to win the prize.” 1 Corinthians 9:24

They called it a physical fitness test. I called it Hades. It happened every nine weeks. That was the length of the grading period at the high school I attended. Every male who attended Nathan Bedford Forest High School and was breathing was required to take a physical fitness test at the end of the grading period. It involved several things…pushups, pull-ups, and my personal favorite, throwing up. What was ironic about this is for all the time before the test we didn’t train for it. We might play softball or volleyball or some other team sport, but we didn’t train for “the test.” We also played something called battle ball where we gathered in the gym and played a sadistic form of dodge ball. There was a guy named Johnny who had abnormally long arms and could hurl the ball at incredible speeds. The last thing on earth you wanted was to be the last victim on one side and Johnny on the other. It wasn’t pretty.

Anyway, we were not prepared but that didn’t matter. We had to take “the test.” The worst part of this Gladiator style arena of horror was the cross-country run. Let me see if I can set the stage. Imagine you are in North Florida, and it is late May. The temperatures regularly climb into the lower and upper nineties. The humidity is at ninety percent or higher. Remember they call Florida the Sunshine State and that is for a reason…the sun is beating down unmercifully. And, by luck of the draw, you have physical education (PE) class right after lunch. The day before, the coach announces that we would be running “cross country” tomorrow. It was too late to train…it was too late for anything but a few prayers.

In an attempt not to throw-up, you eat a light lunch and then report to P.E. You pray to stumble and break your leg on the way to class, but that prayer goes unanswered. You change clothes and anxiously report outside. They call the roll and then give the command to report to the starting line. What lies ahead is two and a half miles of running in the heat of a hot day complete with “air you can wear.” Like “sheep led to the slaughter” you line up waiting for the whistle. Soon, too soon, it blows and off you go.

Now you really need to understand that cross country for those who have trained for it is a challenging, but somewhat enjoyable sport. I’ve even heard reports of a runner’s high. I never experienced that, but I did experience a runner’s low. It happened about a hundred yards into the course when I realized that I was going to die—or wish I could. I can still remember the course to this day. It was two and a half times around the perimeter of the school property. If you ever wonder what eternity is like talk to me…I ran it. Actually, to say I ran might be a stretch. I sorta ran it. Not soon enough and it was over. As you cross the finish line you hear people saying, “Don’t run toward the light…don’t run toward the light.” After about 15 minutes your heart rates goes below 600 and you can breathe again. I hated that test. A lot.

I never really understood the point of asking someone to do something and not preparing them for it. We ran that distance and more in basic training in the Air Force, but we slowly prepared for it. Again, it was challenging but doable because of the training. I think this is not just a lesson about running, but about life. I’ve heard that life is a race and unless you are incredibly unfortunate, it is not a sprint but rather a marathon. If you are going to succeed in life then you need to prepare, you must train and pace yourself. Fail in that and you might well fail in everything you attempt.

Paul, a man from the Bible, wrote a letter to a bunch of Jesus followers in Corinth. They had their own set of games and there were prizes to be won. It was an open deal so anyone could sign up but if you were wise, you trained first and you ran with commitment. In that letter to the church at Corinth he says, “Don’t you know that the runners in a stadium all race, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way to win the prize.” In other words,…train like you wanna win and run like you wanna win and do you know what? You just might do it. Regardless, you can finish the race knowing you gave it your very, best shot.

I went through three years of high school and had four nine-week periods per year. If my math is right that equates to sixteen times that I had to line up to get ready to throw-up. Guess how many times I trained? That would be zero. Sixteen times I knew it was coming and sixteen times I thought the next time would be different. Hey, plant corn and you’re gonna get corn. Every.Single.Time. So why not start today to run for the gold—to live like no one else? Why not start today to make the best of everyday and when race day comes…you’ll be ready. There’s a great Coach who will help you train and run. His name is Jesus, and He is on your side. He’ll even run beside you…all the way, shouting words of encouragement. Listen as He shouts, “You’ve got this, Dewayne.” “How?” I ask? “Because I’ve got it for you,” He responds. I like that. Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, gratitude, life, love, prayer, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful, Trials

Baby Sarah is Missing

Posted on November 17, 2022November 16, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” Proverbs 22:6

A few days ago, we celebrated the birthday of our youngest daughter who is now 33 years old. It caused us to remember one of the scariest times in our lives. As a pastor and family, Sunday has always been a crazy time for the Taylors and one of the busiest days of the week. And, when things get busy, and crazy, well something strange, and perhaps scary, is bound to happen. And one day it did. I was pastoring at Cobden First Baptist and had been there for seven or eight years. When we arrived, we had two daughters and when we left, we had three. Our third daughter, who was affectionally called by many, Baby Sarah, came along in 1989. Fast forward about four years. Before I go any further, please know that the statute of limitations has expired for child neglect.

Judy and I always drove separately to church. We had two morning services and since I was the preacher, I got to go to both of them. We had two great services and while it wasn’t unusual to do something with one of the families after church, that day we just went home. Judy got home before I did and I showed up a little later. We started decompressing and getting ready for lunch when someone asked, “Where’s Sarah?” I looked at Judy and Judy looked at me. I thought she had Baby Sarah and she thought I had Baby Sarah. It quickly became apparent that no one had Baby Sarah. Crisis on steroids.

We jumped in our car and literally raced over to the church. No Baby Sarah. One of our best friends lived almost across the street from the church. Their daughter was Sarah’s best friend. Maybe she was there. It was locked up. No Baby Sarah. Needless to say we were in a panic. Someone told us they thought that our friends had gone out to eat at a restaurant that was several miles out of town. We thought maybe they had taken Baby Sarah with them and forgot to tell us. That wasn’t the case. We lived halfway up a steep hill and as we were in the front yard, trying not to panic, we saw a small figure running towards our house. Her long blonde hair was flying in the wind and she looked exhausted. It was Baby Sarah coming home.

So, here’s what happened. Our friends had some new kittens. Maggie, Baby Sarah’s best friend, asked her to come see the kittens. So they went to Maggie’s house, across the street from the church to see the new arrivals. Maggie’s parents, not knowing Baby Sarah was with Maggie, hollered for Maggie to come down so they could go out and eat. Baby Sarah stayed put. After a few minutes she realized she was all alone in the house. She somehow managed to get their door unlocked and opened and she started towards our house which was about a mile away. Now Cobden was a small town, but getting to our house from the church involved going over a railroad crossing and a pretty busy road. Baby Sarah managed to navigate all of that and find her way home. Remember, she was only four or so.

Back to the story. When we got to her she was beet red from the heat and barefoot because she left her shoes at Maggie’s. Her toes were bleeding from the rough pavement. Amazingly, other than that, she was fine. It was quite the reunion and we were so grateful to have her back. We learned a very valuable lesson that day—count the kids when you leave the house for church and more importantly, count the kids when you head back home. The bottom line? It was just one of those things that can happen if a couple of details are missed. In this case one of the details was Baby Sarah.

So, besides counting your kids, what is to be learned from this scary tale? Well, it is obvious but it isn’t. The big question is, “How did Baby Sarah know how to get home?” How did she know how to safely navigate the railroad tracks and the busy street? The answer is this. In the course of everyday life, we had driven, but more importantly walked that path many times. Time after time, hand in hand, she had walked with her mother and sisters so that when she had to do it alone…she could…she did. That wasn’t our intended lesson but it was a very valuable lesson indeed.

Moms and dads and others who have a role in molding and shaping others—remember this—we are teaching whether we know it or not. Our everyday routines are being imprinted on young hearts and minds. And someday, when you least expect it, those imprints will become very, very important. The Bible talks about training up a child in the way they should be so that when they are older they will know the way. That was true for Baby Sarah that day in a practical way. But trust me, it is true every day in ways that we may not see coming.

Because Baby Sarah was prepared that day to walk a path by herself, this story has a good ending. It is one of our favorite stories though it still causes us to shudder. I believe there is another reason why Baby Sarah made it home that day. I believe our Dearest Daddy was watching over her. And the truth is that no matter what or how the story ends, I’m learning that I can trust Him and rest in Him. I’m learning that even in life’s scariest moments—like the ones we are living in right now—we can know that He’s got this. Always has…always will. Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, Grace, gratitude, life, Southern born, Trials

Cross Country

Posted on February 8, 2021February 7, 2021 by Dewayne Taylor

Don’t you know that the runners in a stadium all race, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way to win the prize.” 1 Corinthians 9:24

They called it a physical fitness test. I called it Hades. It happened every nine weeks. That was the length of the grading period at the high school I attended. Every male who attended Nathan Bedford Forest High School and was breathing was required to take a physical fitness test at the end of the grading period. It involved several things…pushups, pull-ups and my personal favorite, throwing up. What was ironic about this, is for all the time before the test we didn’t train for it. We might play softball or volleyball or some other team sport, but we didn’t train for “the test.” We also played something called battle ball where we gathered in the gym and played a sadistic form of dodge ball. There was a guy named Johnny who had abnormally long arms and could hurl the ball at incredible speeds. The last thing on earth you wanted was to be the last victim on one side and Johnny on the other. It wasn’t pretty.

Anyway, we were not prepared but that didn’t seem to matter. We had to take “the test.” The worst part of this Gladiator style arena of horror was the cross-country run. Let me see if I can set the stage. Imagine you are in North Florida and it is late May. The temperatures regularly climb into the lower and upper nineties. The humidity is at ninety percent or higher. Remember they call Florida the Sunshine State and that is for a reason…the sun is beating down unmercifully. And, by luck of the draw, you have P.E. right after lunch. The day before, the coach announces that we would be running “cross country” tomorrow. It was too late to train…it was too late for anything but a few prayers.

In an attempt not to throw-up, you eat a light lunch and then report to P.E. You pray to stumble and break your leg on the way to class, but that prayer goes unanswered. You change clothes and anxiously meet outside. They call the roll and then give the command to report to the starting line. What lies ahead is two and a half miles of running in the heat of a hot, late Spring day. Like “sheep led to the slaughter” you line up waiting for the whistle. Soon, too soon, it blows and off you go.

Now you really need to understand that cross country for those who have trained for it is a challenging, but somewhat enjoyable sport. I’ve even heard reports of a runner’s high. I never experienced that, but I did experience a runner’s low. It happened about a hundred yards into the course when I realized that I was going to die—or wish I could. I can still remember the course to this day. It was two and a half times around the perimeter of the school property. If you ever wonder what eternity is like, talk to me…I ran it. Actually, to say I ran might be a stretch. I sorta ran it. Not soon enough and it was over. As you cross the finish line you hear people saying, “Don’t run toward the light…don’t run toward the light.” After about 15 minutes your heart rates goes below 600 and you can breathe again. I hated that test. A lot.

I never really understood the point of asking someone to do something but not preparing them for it. We ran that distance and more in basic training in the Air Force but we slowly prepared for it. Again, it was challenging but doable because of the training. I think this is not just a lesson about running, but about life. I’ve heard that life is a race and unless you are incredibly unfortunate, it is not a sprint, but rather a marathon. If you are going to succeed in life then you need to prepare, you need to train and pace yourself. Fail in that and you might well fail in everything you attempt.

Paul, a man from the Bible, wrote a letter to a bunch of Jesus followers in Corinth. They had their own set of games and there were prizes to be won. It was an open deal so anyone could sign up, but if you were wise, you trained first and you ran with commitment. In that letter to the church at Corinth he says, “Don’t you know that the runners in a stadium all race, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way to win the prize.” In other words…train like you want to win and run like you want to win and guess what? You just might do it. Regardless, you can finish the race knowing you gave it your very, best shot.