Back on the bike.

They say, you know you’ve let something go when you can live life without it. That’s why they say fasting can be so powerful.

Fasting from the television, games, computer and other pleasures in life help us to realise our vulnerabilities, surrender our dependency and realign ourselves with the important, more divine things of this world.

My 100-day bike fast ended this week. In those 100 days of abstinence, there was a lot I learnt about myself and my needs. I also learnt much about what I didn’t need.

I took my bike out for my first ride yesterday. Unlike what I had thought, however, it was very difficult to ride again. I was fearful, and it took a great deal of courage to do so.

So, it was only after a great deal of cajoling from my biking buddies to pick my bike up again that I took off, albeit on my own, for an easy ride in the evening. And surprisingly, it was neither liberating nor joyful. It was, instead, (and this is where you laugh) very stressful.

My biking buddies had been asking me when I’d be back. They missed my company as much as I missed theirs. But I also realised, there was a possibility I could never be as fast as them again. That scared me. I dare not ride with them for fear I would be left behind. I have a neurotic fear of being left behind. Having to press on by yourself, against the headwind without help, can be incredibly painful.

It was Jn, who gave me a revelation. For months I was suffering from the guilt of injuring myself, thinking it was God who had punished me for my self-striving attitude. Till now I cannot fathom why in spite of all that’s happened, my opinion of God has always been Him being a harsh figure. It was Jn who audaciously suggested that the message from this incident was not about God’s punishment but rather, God’s love. Put very simply, the message was, I didn’t need to earn God’s love.

There was a long pause between us. It was like I had just found out bread didn’t grow on trees.

Do you try, unconsciously, to earn God’s love too? Do you feel that you have to do everything well and beat yourself up for it.

I know I do. I do, all the time, unconsciously.

And it cost me dearly. It cost me 4 torn muscles, one hip fracture from the torn muscles (I didn’t even fall, mind you), an exorbidant amount of money to undergo rehabilitation and physiotherapy, and a 6-month hiatus to reflect upon my attitudes and worldview.

So I rode yesterday, on my bike Faith, and found myself learning how I strive too much. I keep striving, as if God were an unpleasable Being who wanted me to s-t-r-e-t-c-h myself till I imploded. I live life as if I have to earn points to gain his affection.

But that is so untrue- God never needs us to earn His love.

God’s love is given freely, and till now, that is one thing I have been unable to grasp fully. You must work hard to get into medical school, you must torture yourself and get 9As to enter. You must suffer greatly and push yourself before you are worthy enough to be noticed.

Treacherous lies, seeded from a long, long time ago. Lies, which served me well till now.

Yesterday during a gathering, I heard the Big Boys complaining about how excruciatingly slow some of the new riders were, and how they were slowing them down.

I chuckled, half-worryingly, “Haha, don’t be cruel. When I get back on the bike next week, I could be just as slow or slower!”

To which they kept reassuring me that I wouldn’t be. Even then, they still wanted me back. When are you joining us again?

I keep forgetting, I don’t need to do anything more to be loved any more. God loves us the way we are, just the way we are. And I keep needing to remind the little insecure girl inside myself, that my friends don’t love me because I used to ride with them at 43kmph down the roads. They love me because of who I am. I didn’t need to try to earn their love. They took pains to give me my new bike, Faith, because they loved me for being someone to give my bike money away to someone else who needed it more. They loved me for me.

Why don’t I get that?

They don’t love me for my achievements, for my swim timing, or my training schedule. They don’t love me for how many medals I’ve got.

And neither does God.

He loves me that I like cycling, that even after so long, I still have trouble balancing with one hand. He loves me that I’m not stick-thin and that sometimes, I can let go and eat whatever everyone else is eating. He loves me that I sometimes talk too fast and laugh too loud, that I have to speak up when I see injustice, even if sometimes my mouth works faster than my head.

Why does it take us so long to realise, that He doesn’t love us for what we can do, but for who we are.

Like my bike Faith, spiritual faith isn’t earned, but a gift.

So I think I’ll join my cycling buddies on their ride again this week. I’m going back on my bike, Faith.

You are loved just the way you are.