but there is an "E"...for Epaphroditus!
Gotta love small group...and Philippians. Last week was Timothy, this week was Epaphroditus...[edit: and by this week I mean last week, and by last week I mean the week before that. I really should finish these entries when I start them.]
Anyways.
Bible study was spectacular. It's cool how you can get new nuggets out of passages you've studied countless times. For example, I don't think I ever actually knew the context behind Ephaproditus, and why he was so special to Paul. Heck, up until now I was having a hard enough time pronouncing his name! Mumbles still does...haha. (My small group leader's nickname is "Mumbles" because he has a tendency to not say things correctly. It's awesome. And I don't mean to make fun of him...I affirm his speech impediment! We love Mumbles!)
Anyways.
Did you know that Epaphroditus walked something like 700 miles to bring Paul money from the Philippians? Apparently he became ridiculously sick on his journey and almost died, but nevertheless tromped on to be the messenger between Paul and the Philippians. Seriously - 700 miles is like walking from NY to the Carolinas. And here I am complaining that I have to sit on a bus for an hour to get to work. Not only is the act itself somewhat ridiculous, but thinking about doing it while you're sick? Forget it. You really gotta believe in the cause and want to see those people to suck THAT up.
I've been sick for my fair share of days this year. And without fail, every day that I wake up absolutely miserable, congested, sore, and decide to take the day off of work, I will inevitably lounge around, sleep, and eat all day. And then later at night, regardless of whether I'm feeling much better or not, I'll head over to Taekwondo, as scheduled.
Yes, my priorities are messed up.
Yes, everyone thinks I'm crazy.
But somehow, I feel better in some way, being with my 'family' and friends, sweating it out, doing what I love most. The thought of sacrificing a day of training or teaching and what sort of set-back effect that might have has always pushed me to tell my body to suck it up and get out the door. [Yes, I realize that some days I really should have stayed home, but just bear with me...]
Paul describes Epaphroditus as a "fellow soldier". Our huddle group spent quite a bit of time on the first question, dissecting the difference between "fellow worker" and "fellow soldier". I was surfing the internet recently on commentaries on Philippians 2, and stumbled across this:
"Many who went through the great war learned that real soldiering did not consist in parading about in fine uniforms, but in enduring all sorts of discomfort and hardship in the midst of rain and mud and weariness and wounds and death. It is this side of the soldier's life which portrays our course in His service. It is not simply endeavoring to accomplish His work in pleasant surroundings, but in the midst of opposition and evils of all sorts, which test our endurance and try our physical frames to the utmost. Not that we seek suffering, or castigate ourselves. No soldier does that. He does the opposite. In every way he seeks to build up and conserve his forces for the fight. We do not invite evil, we face it. Then we thank God and suffer it, for His sake." -A.E. Knoch
John made a comment that was rather insightful: "Ephaphroditus was a team player".
It's so true. For every team I've been on, the success has ridden on the sacrifices of individuals for the betterment of the group. For every team I've captained, I've seen just how much sacrifice is necessary. And it's often in the little things that are thankless. Unnoticed. Unappreciated. But it gets the team where it needs to be.
There was one practice right before the last tournament when I was an a slump. I was inordinately frustrated at my shin injury and inability to kick with one of my legs. On top of that, I was sick my legs were really creaky, and I hadn't been kicking well all week. When I get frustrated like that, everything goes downhill. I was absolutely poopy.
My friend from Boston was down, training for the same touranment, and it was just us and Sabs. At the end of a terrible practice, Sabs finished off with some sparring. She and Jr were going at it, and I got even more frustrated that I was dragging and had no motivation to want to fight Sr. After some halfhearted attempts to throw kicks, I just sat down and leaned against the mirror. No tantrum, no tears - just sat down.
He didn't really know what to do with me, and as per usual just seemed to ignore it. So he also sat down and stretched out and watched L and Jr fight it out. After awhile I saw him get up and go grab a shield. He comes back to where I'm sitting, stands over me and says
"OK. Get up. You have to kick. We have to get you out of this funk."
And I just sort of shook my head.
And you know what he says? My hardass, smacking-on-the-head, my-prize-for-winning-a-bet-was-he-had-to-be-nice-to-me-for-a-month coach says:
"Come on. I'll even suffer with you."
He made me do all these burnout-esque shield drills, just to get my legs moving. They're designed to make you tired, good and fast. We took turns, and he did every single one with me, to the point where he was gassing it and couldn't breathe enough to talk straight.
There is indeed no "I" in "TEAM". A team is made up of individuals, yes - but the focus is not on any one of them. It's the Epaphrodituses of the teams - the team players who are willing to even suffer and "take one for the team" - that propel the team forward towards the goal.
Eyes on the prize.
No comments:
Post a Comment